Ion
Oh! ’tis passing strange how badly the deity hath enacted laws for mortal men, contrary to all sound judgment; for instance, they should ne’er have suffered impious men to sit at their altars, but should have driven them away; for it was nowise right that hands unclean should touch the altars of the gods, though the righteous deserved to find a refuge there from their oppressors, instead of good and bad alike having recourse to the same divine protection with equal success.
Pythian Priestess Refrain thyself, my son; for I, the priestess of Phoebus, chosen from all the maids of Delphi in accordance with the tripod’s ancient rite, have left that prophetic seat, and am passing o’er this threshold.
Ion Hail to thee, dear mother mine,—mother, though thou didst not give me birth.
Pythian Priestess Yes, so have I ever been called, and the title causes me no regret.
Ion Hast heard how this woman plotted my death?
Pythian Priestess I have; thou, too, art wrong because of thy harshness.
Ion Am I not to pay back murderers in their coin?
Pythian Priestess Wives ever hate the children of a former marriage.
Ion As I hate step-dames for their evil treatment of me.
Pythian Priestess Do not so; but leaving, as thou art, the shrine, and setting forth for thy country—
Ion What then wouldst thou advise me do?
Pythian Priestess With clean hands seek Athens, attended by good omens.
Ion Surely any man hath clean hands who slays his enemies.
Pythian Priestess Do not thou do this; but take the counsel that I have for thee.
Ion Say on; whate’er thou say’st will be prompted by thy good will.
Pythian Priestess Dost see this basket that I carry in my arms?
Ion An ancient ark with chaplets crowned.
Pythian Priestess Herein I found thee long ago, a newborn babe.
Ion What sayest thou? there is novelty in the story thou art introducing.
Pythian Priestess Yea, for I was keeping these relics a secret, but now I show them.
Ion How earnest thou to hide them on that day, now long ago, when thou didst find me?
Pythian Priestess The god wished to have thee as his servant in his courts.
Ion Does he no longer wish it? How am I to know this?
Pythian Priestess By declaring to thee thy sire, he dismisses thee from this land.
Ion Is it by his command thou keepest these relics, or why?
Pythian Priestess Loxias put in my heart that day—
Ion What purpose? Oh! speak, finish thy story.
Pythian Priestess To preserve what I had found until the present time.
Ion What weal or woe doth this import to me?
Pythian Priestess Herein were laid the swaddling-clothes in which thou wert enwrapped.
Ion These relics thou art producing may help me to find my mother.
Pythian Priestess Yes, for now the deity so wills it, though not before.
Ion Hail! thou day of visions blest to me!
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