Chorus Character Analysis

CHORUS: O Death, in that dark tangle of your mind, if you have
eyes to see, look among the herded dead who go
with Charon in his long slow crossing over Acheron;
look and you will see, blazing in that crowd of ordinary
dead, the noblest life the sunlight ever shone upon!

You shine in memory. And mortal men, remembering
you, will praise your death: a song that does not die.
Each year, unaccompanied, your song shall rise,
a shining on the lips of men; or sometimes chanted
to the rude and simple lyre, at Sparta when the year
has come full circle, and the moon, a splendor, rides
the livelong night; or there in Athens’ blazing noon.
Wherever there is light, wherever men remember love.
Death shall not eclipse the glory of your shining.

CHORUS: Hospitality is here.
What house could be more gracious or more generous
than this? Open-handed, always prodigal and free,
its master gives such lavish welcoming
that one might think his guests were gods.
Great gods have sheltered here.
Here Apollo, god of Delphi, condescending,
came, his high divinity constrained to serve
as shepherd for a year. And down these blessed hills,
to mating flocks the god of music sang the season’s song…

CHORUS: —It had to be. We cannot choose our fates.
—A man can fight. But not with life,
not with death.
—Accept it like a man.
—Hard, hard, I know.
—Be brave, Admetos.
—Courage. Others too have lost their wives.
—Some soon, some late, every man is curbed
by suffering or fate.
—Now it is your turn.

[…]

LEADER: Your luck had been good, Admetos. High happiness and great wealth—both were yours. So when this sorrow struck so suddenly, it found you unprepared. Suffering was something you had never known.

CHORUS: O Death, in that dark tangle of your mind, if you have
eyes to see, look among the herded dead who go
with Charon in his long slow crossing over Acheron;
look and you will see, blazing in that crowd of ordinary
dead, the noblest life the sunlight ever shone upon!

You shine in memory. And mortal men, remembering
you, will praise your death: a song that does not die.
Each year, unaccompanied, your song shall rise,
a shining on the lips of men; or sometimes chanted
to the rude and simple lyre, at Sparta when the year
has come full circle, and the moon, a splendor, rides
the livelong night; or there in Athens’ blazing noon.
Wherever there is light, wherever men remember love.
Death shall not eclipse the glory of your shining.

CHORUS: Hospitality is here.
What house could be more gracious or more generous
than this? Open-handed, always prodigal and free,
its master gives such lavish welcoming
that one might think his guests were gods.
Great gods have sheltered here.
Here Apollo, god of Delphi, condescending,
came, his high divinity constrained to serve
as shepherd for a year. And down these blessed hills,
to mating flocks the god of music sang the season’s song…

CHORUS: —It had to be. We cannot choose our fates.
—A man can fight. But not with life,
not with death.
—Accept it like a man.
—Hard, hard, I know.
—Be brave, Admetos.
—Courage. Others too have lost their wives.
—Some soon, some late, every man is curbed
by suffering or fate.
—Now it is your turn.

[…]

LEADER: Your luck had been good, Admetos. High happiness and great wealth—both were yours. So when this sorrow struck so suddenly, it found you unprepared. Suffering was something you had never known.