Aeschylus, Suppliants 325–417: Second episode (cont.): the plea and the king's dilemma

King I think you indeed have some share in this land from old. But how did you bring yourselves to leave the home of your fathers? What stroke of fortune befell you?

Chorus Lord of the Pelasgians, of varying color are the ills of mankind, and nowhere can you find trouble of the same plume. For who dreamed that a kindred race, sprung of old, would thus in unexpected flight find haven at Argos, fleeing in terror through loathing of the marriage-bed?

King Why have you come as suppliants of these gods congregated here, holding in your hands those white-wreathed, fresh-plucked boughs?

Chorus So as not to be made slave to Aegyptus’ race.

King By reason of hatred? Or do you speak of unlawfulness?

Chorus Who would purchase their lords from among their kin?

King In this way families have enhanced their power.

Chorus And it is easy then, if things go ill, to separate from a wife.

King How then am I to deal with you in accordance with my sacred duty?

Chorus By not surrendering us at the demand of Aegyptus’ sons.

King A serious request—to take upon myself a dangerous war.

Chorus But Justice protects her champions.

King True, if she had a share in the matter from the beginning.

Chorus Show reverence for the ship of state thus crowned.

King I shrink as I gaze upon these shaded shrines.

Chorus Yet heavy is the wrath of Zeus, god of the suppliant.

Son of Palaechthon, lord of the Pelasgians, hear me with a benign heart. Behold me, your suppliant, a fugitive, running around like a heifer chased by wolves upon precipitous crags, where, confident in his help, she lows to tell the herdsman of her distress.

I see a company of assembled gods assenting beneath the shade of fresh-plucked boughs. Nevertheless may this affair of claimants to the friendship of our city bring no mischief in its wake! And let no feud come upon the state from causes unforeseen and unforestalled; for the state has no need of such trouble.

Indeed, may Justice, daughter of Zeus the Apportioner, Justice who protects the suppliant, look upon our flight that it bring no mischief in its wake. But you, aged in experience, learn from one of younger birth. If you show mercy to a suppliant ... from a man of holiness.

It is not my own house at whose hearth you sit. If the state is stained by pollution in its commonalty, in common let the people strive to work out the cure. For myself, I will pledge no promise before I have communicated these events to all the citizens.

You are the state, you are the people. Being subject to no judge, you rule the altar, your country’s hearth by your will’s sole ordinance; and, enthroned in sole sovereignty, you determine every issue. Beware pollution!

Pollution on my enemies! But without harm I do not know how to help you. And yet again, it is not well advised to slight these supplications. I am perplexed, and fear possesses my soul whether to act, or not to act and take what fortune sends.

Look to him who looks down from above, to him, the guardian of mortals sore-distressed, who appeal to their neighbors, yet do not obtain the justice that is their right. The wrath of Zeus, the suppliant’s god, remains, and will not be softened by a sufferer’s complaints.

If the sons of Aegyptus have authority over you by the law of your country claiming that they are nearest of kin, who would wish to contest it? You must plead in accordance with the laws of the land you have fled, that they have no authority over you.

Never, oh never, may I fall subject to the power and authority of these men. I am determined to flee to escape this marriage that offends my soul, piloting my course by the stars. Take Justice as your ally, and render judgment for the cause deemed righteous by the gods.

The judgment is not easy—do not make me the judge. I have declared already that, though I am ruler, I will not do this thing without the consent of my people, lest hereafter, if any evil befall, the people should say, You honored aliens and brought ruin upon your own land.

Kindred to both in blood, Zeus surveys both sides alike in this dispute with an impartial scale, apportioning, as is due, to the wicked their wrongdoing and to the godly their works of righteousness. When these things are thus equally balanced, why do you fear to act justly?

Surely there is need of deep and salutary counsel; need for a keen-sighted eye, not confused, to descend, like some diver, into the depths; that to the state above all things this matter may not work mischief, but may end well for us; that strife may not seize you for its prize, nor yet that we surrender you from these seats of sanctuary, and bring upon ourselves the dire, abiding vengeance of the all-destroying god, who, even in the realm of Death, does not set his victim free. Surely you cannot think there is no need of salutary counsel?