THE 'AGAMEMNON* AND < TRACHINI&* 33 



this, the awed women mutter something of hope, but the dying 

 queen scorns all hope now. Then they urge that she has acted 

 all unwittingly. If any think that they will comfort themselves 

 with good intentions when the fruits of folly come to harvest 

 let them hear how Deianira's voice sounds as she says : 



So speaks not he who hath a share of sin, 

 But who is clear of all offence at home. 



We touch the goal ; for the full tragedy nothing remains but to 

 let her know the fatal issue of her credulity. Her son brings 

 the tidings her son, who saw his father in agony, and who 

 believes his mother to be a murderess. She has to listen to all 

 the terrible details : to hear how great the hero looked, during 

 his mighty festival of triumph, when Lichas came, to hear that 

 her lord knows her guilt and thinks her wholly guilty ; to hear 

 that the murder of the innocent Lichas, killed in her hero's 

 fury, lies at her door ; to hear that her husband cursed her, that 

 he is coming, and will be here anon ; and last to hear a solemn 

 curse from her son's own lips. What can she answer ? Nothing. 

 How much more terrible than any speech is her silence as she 

 slowly passes through the door! The poor shaken, terror- 

 stricken women make one feeble call to her; 'justify yourself 

 plead,' they say ; and she turns round and looks what a 

 look ! and sees her son, and then silence all, she sinks into 

 the night. 



The wretched youth begins to feel what he has done, but 

 repents not yet. Why should he repent ? ' Her acts are all 

 unmotherly.' And so he goes, leaving the maidens to fall 

 back on Fate and Doom for some little comfort. So it was to 

 be, and so it is, the feeble things say. The oracles promised 

 rest, but it is the rest of the grave. And now a cry is heard 

 within not the cry of Deianira, but the wailing of her maids 

 and on the trembling girls bursts out the aged nurse to tell 

 them that the queen is even now departed. Tender to the last, 

 ' taking in her touch each household thing she formerly had 

 used, she wept o'er all ; ' then, having prayed and taken 

 leave, she cast upon her bridal bed the finest sheets, undid her 

 robe where the brooch lay before her heart, and pierced her side. 

 To this household comes the dying Heracles. 



VOL. I. D 



