But turn the city's
longing into joy!
Yea, let him come, and coming may he find
A wife no other than he left her, true
And
faithful as a watch-dog to his home,
His foemen's foe, in all her duties leal,
Trusty to keep for ten long years unmarred
The store
whereon he set his master-seal.
Be steel deep-dyed, before ye look to see
Ill joy, ill fame, from other wight, in me!
HERALD
'Tis fairly said: thus speaks a noble dame,
Nor speaks amiss, when truth informs the boast.
(CLYTEMNESTRA withdraws again into the palace.)
LEADER
So has she spoken-be it yours to learn
By clear interpreters her specious word.
Turn to me,
herald-tell me if anon
The second well-loved lord of Argos comes?
Hath Menelaus
safely sped with you?
HERALD
Alas-brief boon unto my friends it were,
To
flatter them, for truth, with falsehoods fair!
LEADER
Speak joy, if truth be joy, but truth, at worst-
Too
plainly, truth and joy are here divorced.
HERALD
The hero and his bark were rapt away
Far from the Grecian fleet; 'tis truth I say.
LEADER
Whether in all men's sight from Ilion borne,
Or from the fleet by
stress of weather torn?
HERALD
Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light,
And one short word hath told long woes aright.
LEADER
But say, what now of him each comrade saith?
What their forebodings, of his life or death?
HERALD
Ask me no more: the truth is known to none,
Save the earth-fostering, all-surveying Sun.
LEADER
Say, by what doom the fleet of Greece was driven?
How rose, how sank the storm, the wrath of heaven?
HERALD
Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow's tale
The day of blissful news. The gods demand
Thanksgiving sundered from solicitude.
If one as
herald came with rueful face
To say, The curse has fallen, and the host
Gone down to death; and one wide wound has reached
The city's heart, and out of many homes
Many are cast and
consecrate to death,
Beneath the double
scourge, that Ares loves,
The
bloody pair, the fire and sword of doom-
If such sore burden weighed upon my tongue,
'Twere fit to speak such words as gladden fiends.
But-coming as he comes who bringeth news
Of safe return from toil, and issues fair,
To men
rejoicing in a weal restored-
Dare I to dash good words with ill, and say
For fire and sea, that erst held bitter feud,
Now swore
conspiracy and pledged their faith,
Wasting the Argives worn with toil and war.
Night and great
horror of the rising wave
Came o'er us, and the blasts that blow from Thrace
Clashed ship with ship, and some with plunging prow
Thro' scudding drifts of spray and raving storm
Vanished, as strays by some ill
shepherd driven.
And when at length the sun rose bright, we saw
Th' Aegaean sea-field flecked with flowers of death,
Corpses of Grecian men and shattered hulls.
For us indeed, some god, as well I deem,
No human power, laid hand upon our helm,
Snatched us or prayed us from the powers of air,
And brought our bark thro'all, unharmed in hull:
And saving Fortune sat and steered us fair,
So that no surge should gulf us deep in brine,
Nor grind our keel upon a rocky shore.
So 'scaped we death that lurks beneath the sea,
But, under day's white light, mistrustful all
Of fortune's smile, we sat and brooded deep,
Shepherds
forlorn of thoughts that wandered wild
O'er this new woe; for
smitten was our host,
And lost as ashes scattered from the pyre.
Of whom if any draw his life-breath yet,
Be well
assured, he deems of us as dead,
As we of him no other fate forebode.
But heaven save all! If Menelaus live,
He will not tarry, but will surely come:
Therefore if
anywhere the high sun's ray
Descries him upon earth, preserved by Zeus,
Who wills not yet to wipe his race away,
Hope still there is that
homeward he may wend.
Enough-thou hast the truth unto the end.
(The HERALD departs.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1
Say, from whose lips the presage fell?
Who read the future all too well,
And named her, in her natal hour,
Helen, the bride with war for dower
'Twas one of the Invisible,
Guiding his tongue with prescient power.
On fleet, and host, and citadel,
War,
sprung from her, and death did lour,
When from the bride-bed's fine-spun veil
She to the Zephyr spread her sail.
Strong blew the breeze-the surge closed oer
The cloven track of keel and oar,
But while she fled, there drove along,
Fast in her wake, a
mighty throng-
Athirst for blood, athirst for war,
Forward in fell
pursuit they
sprung,
Then leapt on Simois' bank ashore,
The leafy coppices among-
No rangers, they, of wood and field,
But huntsmen of the sword and shield.
antistrophe 1
Heaven's
jealousy, that works its will,
Sped thus on Troy its destined ill,
Well named, at once, the Bride and Bane;
And loud rang out the
bridal strain;
But they to whom that song befell
Did turn anon to tears again;
Zeus tarries, but avenges still
The husband's wrong, the household's stain!
He, the hearth's lord, brooks not to see
Its outraged hospitality.
Even now, and in far other tone,
Troy chants her dirge of
mighty moan,
Woe upon Paris, woe and hate!
Who wooed his country's doom for mate-
This is the burthen of the groan,
Wherewith she wails disconsolate
The blood, so many of her own
Have poured in vain, to fend her fate;
Troy! thou hast fed and freed to roam
A lion-cub within thy home!
strophe 2
A suckling creature, newly ta'en
From mother's teat, still fully fain
Of nursing care; and oft caressed,
Within the arms, upon the breast,
Even as an
infant, has it lain;
Or fawns and licks, by
hunger pressed,
The hand that will assuage its pain;
In life's young dawn, a well-loved guest,
A fondling for the children's play,
A joy unto the old and grey.
antistrophe 2
But waxing time and growth betrays
The blood-thirst of the lion-race,
And, for the house's fostering care,
Unbidden all, it revels there,
And
bloodyrecompense repays-
Rent flesh of kine, its talons tare:
A
mighty beast, that slays, and slays,
And mars with blood the household fair,
A God-sent pest invincible,
A
minister of fate and hell.
strophe 3
Even so to Ilion's city came by stealth
A spirit as of windless seas and skies,
A gentle phantom-form of joy and
wealth,
With love's soft arrows speeding from its eyes-
Love's rose, whose thorn doth
pierce the soul in subtle wise.
Ah, well-a-day! the bitter
bridal-bed,
When the fair
mischief lay by Paris' side!
What curse on palace and on people sped
With her, the Fury sent on Priam's pride,
By angered Zeus! what tears of many a widowed bride!
antistrophe 3
Long, long ago to mortals this was told,
How sweet
security and blissful state
Have curses for their children-so men hold-
And for the man of all-too
prosperous fate
Springs from a bitter seed some woe insatiate.
Alone, alone, I deem far otherwise;
Not bliss nor
wealth it is, but
impious deed,
From which that after-growth of ill doth rise!
Woe springs from wrong, the plant is like the seed-
While Right, in honour's house, doth its own
likeness breed.
strophe 4
Some past impiety, some grey old crime,
Breeds the young curse, that wantons in our ill,
Early or late, when haps th'appointed time-
And out of light brings power of darkness still,
A master-fiend, a foe,
unseen, invincible;
A pride
accursed, that broods upon the race
And home in which dark Ate holds her sway-
Sin's child and Woe's, that wears its parents' face;
antistrophe 4
While Right in smoky cribs shines clear as day,
And decks with weal his life, who walks the
righteous way.
From gilded halls, that hands polluted raise,
Right turns away with proud averted eyes,
And of the
wealth, men stamp amiss with praise,
Heedless, to poorer, holier temples hies,
And to Fate's goal guides all, in its appointed wise.
(AGAMEMNON enters, riding in a
chariot and accompanied by
a great
procession. CASSANDRA follows in another
chariot.