Couched in the foeman's land,
whereon they gave
Their
breath, and lords of Troy, each in his Trojan grave.
antistrophe 3
Therefore for each and all the city's breast
Is heavy with a wrath supprest,
As deeply and
deadly as a curse more loud
Flung by the common crowd:
And, brooding deeply, doth my soul await
Tidings of coming fate,
Buried as yet in darkness' womb.
For not forgetful is the high gods' doom
Against the sons of carnage: all too long
Seems the
unjust to
prosper and be strong,
Till the dark Furies come,
And smite with stern reversal all his home,
Down into dim obstruction-he is gone,
And help and hope, among the lost, is none!
O'er him who vaunteth an
exceeding fame,
Impends a woe condign;
The vengeful bolt upon his eyes doth flame,
Sped from the hand divine.
This bliss be mine, ungrudged of God, to feel-
To tread no city to the dust,
Nor see my own life thrust
Down to a glave's
estate beneath another's heel!
epode
Behold, throughout the city wide
Have the swift feet of Rumour hied,
Roused by the
joyful flame:
But is the news they scatter, sooth?
Or haply do they give for truth
Some cheat which heaven doth frame?
A child were he and all unwise,
Who let his heart with joy be stirred.
To see the
beacon-fires arise,
And then, beneath some thwarting word,
Sicken anon with hope deferred.
The edge of woman's
insight still
Good news from true divideth ill;
Light rumours leap within the bound
Then fences
female credence round,
But,
lightly born, as
lightly dies
The tale that springs of her
surmise.
(Several days are assumed to have elapsed.)
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Soon shall we know
whereof the bale-fires tell,
The
beacons, kindled with transmitted flame;
Whether, as well I deem, their tale is true,
Or whether like some dream delusive came
The
welcome blaze but to befool our soul.
For lo! I see a
herald from the shore
Draw
hither, shadowed with the olive-wreath-
And thirsty dust, twin-brother of the clay,
Speaks plain of travel far and
truthful news-
No dumb
surmise, nor tongue of flame in smoke,
Fitfully kindled from the mountain pyre;
But plainlier shall his voice say, All is well,
Or-but away, forebodings
adverse, now,
And on fair promise fair
fulfilment come!
And whoso for the state prays otherwise,
Himself reap
harvest of his ill desire!
(A HERALD enters. He is an advance
messenger from AGAMEMNON'S
forces, which have just landed.)
HERALD
O land of Argos, fatherland of mine!
To thee at last, beneath the tenth year's sun,
My feet return; the bark of my emprise,
Tho' one by one hope's anchors broke away,
Held by the last, and now rides
safely here.
Long, long my soul
despaired to win, in death,
Its longed-for rest within our Argive land:
And now all hail, O earth, and hail to thee,
New-risen sun! and hail our country's God,
High-ruling Zeus, and thou, the Pythian lord,
Whose arrows smote us once-smite thou no morel
Was not thy wrath wreaked full upon our heads,
O king Apollo, by Scamander's side?
Turn thou, be turned, be
saviour, healer, now
And hail, all gods who rule the street and mart
And Hermes hail! my
patron and my pride,
Herald of heaven, and lord of
heralds here!
And Heroes, ye who sped us on our way-
To one and all I cry, Receive again
With grace such Argives as the spear has spared.
Ah, home of
royalty,
beloved halls,
And
solemnshrines, and gods that front the morn!
Benign as erst, with sun-flushed
aspect greet
The king returning after many days.
For as from night flash out the beams of day,
So out of darkness dawns a light, a king,
On you, on Argos-Agamemnon comes.
Then hail and greet him well I such meed befits
Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy
With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong-
And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness
Each altar, every
shrine; and far and wide
Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair.
Such
mighty yoke of fate he set on Troy-
Our lord and
monarch, Atreus' elder son,
And comes at last with blissful honour home;
Highest of all who walk on earth to-day-
Not Paris nor the city's self that paid
Sin's price with him, can boast, Whate'er befall,
The guerdon we have won outweighs it all.
But at Fate's judgment-seat the
robber stands
Condemned of rapine, and his prey is torn
Forth from his hands, and by his deed is reaped
A
bloodyharvest of his home and land
Gone down to death, and for his guilt and lust
His father's race pays double in the dust.
LEADER
Hail,
herald of the Greeks, new-come from war.
HERALD
All hail! not death itself can
fright me now.
LEADER
Was thine heart wrung with
longing for thy land?
HERALD
So that this joy doth brim mine eyes with tears.
LEADER
On you too then this sweet
distress did fall-
HERALD
How say'st thou? make me master of thy word.
LEADER
You longed for us who pined for you again.
HERALD
Craved the land us who craved it, love for love?
LEADER
Yea, till my brooding heart moaned out with pain.
HERALD
Whence thy
despair, that mars the army's joy?
LEADER
Sole cure of wrong is silence, saith the saw.
HERALD
Thy kings afar,
couldst thou fear other men?
LEADER
Death had been sweet, as thou didst say but now.
HERALD
'Tis true; Fate smiles at last. Throughout our toil,
These many years, some chances issued fair,
And some, I wot, were chequered with a curse.
But who, on earth, hath won the bliss of heaven,
Thro' time's whole tenor an
unbroken weal?
I could a tale
unfold of toiling oars,
Ill rest, scant landings on a shore rock-strewn,
All pains, all sorrows, for our daily doom.
And worse and hatefuller our woes on land;
For where we couched, close by the foeman's wall,
The river-plain was ever dank with dews,
Dropped from the sky, exuded from the earth,
A curse that clung unto our sodden garb,
And hair as horrent as a wild beast's fell.
Why tell the woes of winter, when the birds
Lay stark and stiff, so stern was Ida's snow?
Or summer's
scorch, what time the stirless wave
Sank to its sleep beneath the noon-day sun?
Why mourn old woes? their pain has passed away;
And passed away, from those who fell, all care,
For
evermore, to rise and live again.
Why sum the count of death, and render thanks
For life by moaning over fate malign?
Farewell, a long
farewell to all our woes!
To us, the
remnant of the host of Greece,
Comes weal beyond all counterpoise of woe;
Thus boast we rightfully to yonder sun,
Like him far-fleeted over sea and land.
The Argive host prevailed to
conquer Troy,
And in the temples of the gods of Greece
Hung up these spoils, a shining sign to Time.
Let those who learn this legend bless aright
The city and its chieftains, and repay
The meed of
gratitude to Zeus who willed
And
wrought the deed. So stands the tale fulfilled.
LEADER
Thy words o'erbear my doubt: for news of good,
The ear of age hath ever youth enow:
But those within and Clytemnestra's self
Would fain hear all; glad thou their ears and mine.
(CLYTEMNESTRA enters from the palace.)
CLYTEMNESTRA
That night, when first the fiery
courier came,
In sign that Troy is ta'en and razed to earth,
So wild a cry of joy my lips gave out,
That I was chidden-Hath the
beacon watch
Made sure unto thy soul the sack of Troy?
A very woman thou, whose heart leaps light
At wandering rumours!-and with words like these
They showed me how I strayed, misled of hope.
Yet on each
shrine I set the sacrifice,
And, in the
strain they held for feminine,
Went
heralds thro' the city, to and fro,
With voice of loud
proclaim, announcing joy;
And in each fane they lit and quenched with wine
The spicy perfumes fading in the flame.
All is fulfilled: I spare your longer tale-
The king himself anon shall tell me all.
Remains to think what honour best may greet
My lord, the
majesty of Argos, home.
What day beams fairer on a woman's eyes
Than this,
whereon she flings the
portal wide,
To hail her lord, heaven-shielded, home from war?
This to my husband, that he tarry not,