Strophe III
For Ares, trafficking for golden coin
The lifeless shapes of men,
And in the rush of battle holding scales,
Sends now from Ilion
Dust from the funeral pyre,
A burden sore to loving friends at home,
And bitterly bewailed,
Filling the brazen urn
With well-smoothed ashes in the place of men;
430
And with high praise they mourn
This hero skilled and valiant in the fight,
And that who in the battle nobly fell,
All for another's wife:
And other words some murmur secretly;
And jealous discontent
Against the Atreidæ, champions in the suit,
Creeps on all stealthily;
And some around the wall,
In full and goodly form have sepulture
There upon Ilion's soil,
440
And their foes' land inters its conquerors.
Antistrophe III
And so the murmurs of their subjects rise
With sullen discontent,
And do the dread work of a people's curse;
And now my boding fear
Awaits some news of ill,
As yet enwrapt in blackness of the night.
Not heedless are the Gods
Of shedders of much blood,
And the dark-robed Erinnyes in due time,
By adverse chance of life,
450
Place him who prospers in unrighteousness
In gloom obscure; and once among the unseen,
There is no help for him:
Fame in excess is but a perilous thing;
For on men's quivering eyes
Is hurled by Zeus the blinding thunderbolt.
I praise the good success
That rouses not God's wrath;
Ne'er be it mine a city to lay waste.[303]
Nor, as a prisoner, see
My life wear on beneath another's power!
Epode
And now at bidding of the courier flame,
The herald of good news,
A rumour swift spreads through the city streets,
460
But who knows clearly whether it be true,
Or whether God has mingled lies with it?
Who is so childish or so reft of sense,
As with his heart a-glow
At that fresh uttered message of the flame,
Then to wax sad at changing rumour's sound?
It suits the mood that sways a woman's mind
To pour thanksgiving ere the truth is seen:
Quickly, with rapid steps, too credulous,
The limit which a woman sets to trust
Advances evermore;[304]
And with swift doom of death
470
A rumour spread by woman perishes.
[As the Chorus ends, a Herald is seen approaching,
his head wreathed with olive[305]
Soon we shall know the sequence of the torches
Light-giving, and of all the beacon-fires,
If they be true; or if, as 'twere a dream,
This sweet light coming hath beguiled our minds.
I see a herald coming from the shore,
With olive boughs o'ershadowed, and the dust,[306]
Dry sister-twin of mire,[307] announces this,
That neither without voice, nor kindling blaze
Of wood upon the mountains, he will signal
480
With smoke from fire, but either he will come,
With clear speech bidding us rejoice, or else ... [pauses
The word opposed to this I much mislike.
Nay, may good issue good beginnings crown!
Who for our city utters other prayers,
May he himself his soul's great error reap!
Herald. Hail, soil of this my Argive fatherland.
Now in the light of the tenth year I reach thee,
Though many hopes are shattered, gaining one.
For never did I think in Argive land
To die, and share the tomb that most I craved.
490
Now hail! thou land; and hail! thou light of day:
Zeus our great ruler, and thou Pythian king,
No longer darting arrows from thy bow.[308]
Full hostile wast thou by Scamandros' banks,
Now be thou Saviour, yea, and Healer found,
O king Apollo! and the Gods of war,
These I invoke; my patron Hermes too,
Dear herald, whom all heralds reverence,—
Those heroes, too, that sent us,[309]—graciously
To welcome back the host that war has spared.
500
Hail, O ye royal dwellings, home beloved!
Ye solemn thrones, and Gods who face the sun![310]
If e'er of old, with cheerful glances now
After long time receive our king's array.
For he is come, in darkness bringing light
To you and all, our monarch, Agamemnon.
Salute him with all grace; for so 'tis meet,
Since he hath dug up Troïa with the spade
Of Zeus the Avenger, and the plain laid waste;
Fallen their altars and the shrines of Gods;
510
The seed of all the land is rooted out,
This yoke of bondage casting over Troïa,
Our chief, the elder of the Atreidæ, comes,
A man full blest, and worthiest of high honour
Of all that are. For neither Paris' self,
Nor his accomplice city now can boast
Their deed exceeds its punishment. For he,
Found guilty on the charge of rape and theft,[311]
Hath lost his prize and brought his father's house,
With lands and all, to waste and utter wreck;
And Priam's sons have double forfeit paid.[312]
520
Chor. Joy, joy, thou herald of the Achæan host!
Her. All joy is mine: I shrink from death no more.
Chor. Did love for this thy fatherland so try thee?
Her. So that mine eyes weep tears for very joy,*
Chor. Disease full sweet then this ye suffered from ...
Her. How so? When taught, I shall thy meaning master.
Chor. Ye longed for us who yearned for you in turn.
Her. Say'st thou this land its yearning host yearned o'er?
Chor. Yea, so that oft I groaned in gloom of heart.
Her. Whence came these bodings that an army hates?
530
Chor. Silence I've held long since a charm for ill.
Her. How, when your lords were absent, feared ye any?
Chor. To use thy words, death now would welcome be.
Her. Good is the issue; but in so long time
Some things, one well might say, have prospered well,
And some give cause for murmurs. Save the Gods,
Who free from sorrow lives out all his life?
For should I tell of toils, and how we lodged
Full hardly, seldom putting in to shore,[313]
And then with couch full hard.... What gave us not
Good cause for mourning? What ill had we not
540
As daily portion? And what passed on land,
That brought yet greater hardship: for our beds
Were under our foes' walls, and meadow mists
From heaven and earth still left us wringing wet,
A constant mischief to our garments, making
Our hair as shaggy as the beasts'.[314] And if
One spoke of winter frosts that killed the birds,
By Ida's snow-storms made intolerable,[315]
Or heat, when Ocean in its noontide couch
Windless reclined and slept without a wave....
But why lament o'er this? Our toil is past;
550
Past too is theirs who in the warfare fell,
So that no care have they to rise again.
Why should I count the number of the dead,
Or he that lives mourn o'er a past mischance?
To change and chance I bid a long Farewell:
With us, the remnant of the Argive host,
Good fortune wins, no ills as counterpoise.
So it is meet to this bright sun we boast,
Who travel homeward over land and sea;
“The Argive host who now have captured Troïa,
560
These spoils of battle[316] to the Gods of Hellas
Hang on their pegs, enduring prize and joy.”[317]
Hearing these things we ought to bless our country
And our commanders; and the grace of Zeus
That wrought this shall be honoured. My tale's told.
Chor. Thy words o'ercome me, and I say not nay;
To learn good keeps youth's freshness with the old.
'Tis meet these things should be a special care
To Clytæmnestra and the house, and yet
That they should make me sharer in their joy.
Enter Clytæmnestra
Clytæm. I long ago for gladness raised my cry,
570
When the first fiery courier came by night,
Telling of Troïa taken and laid waste:
And then one girding at me spake, “Dost think,
Trusting in beacons, Troïa is laid waste?
This heart elate is just a woman's way.”
In words like these they made me out distraught;
Yet still I sacrificed, and with a strain
Shrill as a woman's, they, now here, now there,
Throughout the city hymns of blessing raised
In shrines of Gods, and lulled to gentle sleep
The fragrant flame that on the incense fed.
580
And now why need'st thou lengthen out thy words?
I from the king himself the tale shall learn;
And that I show all zeal to welcome back
My honoured lord on his return (for what
Is brighter joy for wife to see than this,
When God has brought her husband back from war,
To open wide her gates?) tell my lord this,
“To come with all his speed, the city's idol;”
And “may he find a faithful wife at home,
Such as he left her, noble watch-dog still
590
For him, and hostile to his enemies;
And like in all things else, who has not broken
One seal of his in all this length of time.”[318]
No pleasure have I known, nor scandal ill
With any other more than ... stains on bronze.[319]
Such is my vaunt, and being full of truth,
Not shameful for a noble wife to speak.[320] [Exit
Chor. [to Herald.] She hath thus spoken in thy hearing now
A goodly word for good interpreters.
But tell me, herald, tell of Menelaos,
600
If, coming home again in safety he
Is with you, the dear strength of this our land.
Her. I cannot make report of false good news,
So that my friends should long rejoice in it.
Chor. Ah! could'st thou good news speak, and also true!
These things asunder are not well concealed.
Her. The chief has vanished from the Achæan host,
He and his ship. I speak no falsehood here.
Chor. In sight of all when he from Ilion sailed?
Or did a storm's wide evil part him from you?
610
Her. Like skilful archer thou hast hit the mark,
And in few words has told of evil long.
Chor. And was it of him as alive or dead
The whisper of the other sailors ran?
Her. None to that question answer clear can give,
Save the Sun-God who feeds the life of earth.
Chor. How say'st thou? Did a storm come on our fleet,
And do its work through anger of the Gods?
Her. It is not meet a day of tidings good
To mar with evil news. Apart for each
620
Is special worship. But when courier brings
With louring face the ills men pray against,
And tells a city that its host has fallen,
That for the State there is a general wound,
That many a man from many a home is driven,
As banned by double scourge that Ares loves,
Woe doubly-barbed, Death's two-horsed chariot this....
When with such griefs as freight a herald comes,
'Tis meet to chant the Erinnyes' dolorous song;
But for glad messenger of good deeds wrought
That bring deliverance, coming to a town
630
Rejoicing in its triumph, ... how shall I
Blend good with evil, telling of a storm
That smote the Achæans, not without God's wrath?
For they a compact swore who erst were foes,
Ocean and Fire, and their pledges gave,
Wrecking the ill-starred army of the Argives;
And in the night rose ill of raging storm:
For Thrakian tempests shattered all the ships,
Each on the other. Some thus crashed and bruised,
By the storm stricken and the surging foam
Of wind-tost waves, soon vanished out of sight,
640
Whirled by an evil pilot. And when rose
The sun's bright orb, behold, the Ægæan sea
Blossomed with wrecks of ships and dead Achæans.
And as for us and our uninjured ship,
Surely 'twas some one stole or begged us off,
Some God, not man, presiding at the helm;
And on our ship with good will Fortune sat,
Giver of safety, so that nor in haven
Felt we the breakers, nor on rough rock-beach
Ran we aground. But when we had escaped
650
The hell of waters, then in clear, bright day,
Not trusting in our fortune, we in thought
O'er new ills brooded of our host destroyed,
And eke most roughly handled. And if still
Breathe any of them they report of us
As having perished. How else should they speak?
And we in our turn deem that they are so.
God send good ending! Look you, first and chief,
For Menelaos' coming; and indeed,
If any sunbeam know of him alive
And well, by help of Zeus who has not willed
660
As yet to blot out all the regal race,
Some hope there is that he'll come back again.
Know, hearing this, that thou the truth hast heard.
[Exit Herald
Strophe I
Chor. Who was it named her with such wondrous truth?
(Could it be One unseen,
In strange prevision of her destined work,
Guiding the tongue through chance?)
Who gave that war-wed, strife-upstirring one
The name of Helen, ominous of ill?[321]
670
For all too plainly she
Hath been to men, and ships,
And towers, as doom of Hell.
From bower of gorgeous curtains forth she sailed
With breeze of Zephyr Titan-born and strong;[322]
And hosts of many men,
Hunters that bore the shield,
Went on the track of those who steered their boat
Unseen to leafy banks of Simois,
On her account who came,
Dire cause of strife with bloodshed in her train.
680
Antistrophe I
And so the wrath which works its vengeance out
Dear bride to Ilion brought,
(Ah, all too truly named!) exacting still[323]
After long lapse of time
The penalty of foul dishonour done
To friendship's board and Zeus, of host and guest
The God, from those who paid
Their loud-voiced honour then
Unto that bridal strain,
That hymeneal chorus which to chant
Fell to the lot of all the bridegroom's kin.[324]
But learning other song,
Priam's ancient city now
690
Bewaileth sore, and calls on Paris' name,
Wedded in fatal wedlock; all the time
*Enduring tear-fraught life
*For all the blood its citizens had lost.
Strophe II
So once a lion's cub,
A mischief in his house,
As foster child one reared,[325]
While still it loved the teats;
In life's preluding dawn
Tame, by the children loved,
700
And fondled by the old,[326]
Oft in his arms 'twas held,
Like infant newly born,
With eyes that brightened to the hand that stroked,
And fawning at the hest of hunger keen.
Antistrophe II
But when full-grown, it showed
The nature of its sires;
For it unbidden made
A feast in recompense
Of all their fostering care,
*By banquet of slain sheep;
710
With blood the house was stained,
A curse no slaves could check,
Great mischief murderous:
By God's decree a priest of Atè thus
Was reared, and grew within the man's own house.
Strophe III
So I would tell that thus to Ilion came
Mood as of calm when all the air is still,
The gentle pride and joy of kingly state,
A tender glance of eye,
The full-blown blossom of a passionate love,
Thrilling the very soul;
720
And yet she turned aside,
And wrought a bitter end of marriage feast,
Coming to Priam's race,
Ill sojourner, ill friend,
Sent by great Zeus, the God of host and guest—
Erinnys, for whom wives weep many tears.
Antistrophe III
There lives an old saw, framed in ancient days,[327]
In memories of men, that high estate
Full-grown brings forth its young, nor childless dies,
But that from good success
Springs to the race a woe insatiable.
730
But I, apart from all,
Hold this my creed alone:
For impious act it is that offspring breeds,
Like to their parent stock:
For still in every house
That loves the right their fate for evermore
Rejoiceth in an issue fair and good.
Strophe IV
But Recklessness of old
Is wont to breed another Recklessness,
Sporting its youth in human miseries,
Or now, or then, whene'er the fixed hour comes:
740
That in its youth, in turn,
Doth full-flushed Lust beget,
And that dread demon-power unconquerable,
Daring that fears not God,—
Two curses black within the homes of men,
Like those that gendered them.
Antistrophe IV
But Justice shineth bright
In dwellings that are dark and dim with smoke,
And honours life law-ruled,
While gold-decked homes conjoined with hands defiled
750
She with averted eyes
Hath left, and draweth near
To holier things, nor worships might of wealth,
If counterfeit its praise;
But still directeth all the course of things
Towards its destined goal.
[Agamemnon is seen approaching in his
chariot, followed by another chariot, in
which Cassandra is standing, carrying
her prophet's wand in her hand, and
wearing fillets round her temples, and by
a great train of soldiers bearing trophies.
As they come on the stage the Chorus
sings its welcome
Come then, king, thou son of Atreus,
Waster of the towers of Troïa,
What of greeting and of homage
Shall I give, nor overshooting,
Nor due need of honour missing?
Men there are who, right transgressing,
Honour semblance more than being.
760
O'er the sufferer all are ready
Wail of bitter grief to utter,
Though the biting pang of sorrow
Never to their heart approaches;
So with counterfeit rejoicing
Men strain faces that are smileless;
But when one his own sheep knoweth,
Then men's eyes cannot deceive him,
When they deem with kindly purpose,
770
And with fondness weak to flatter.
Thou, when thou did'st lead thine army
For Helen's sake—(I will not hide it)—
Wast to me as one whose features
Have been limned by unskilled artist,
Guiding ill the helm of reason,
Giving men to death's doom sentenced
*Courage which their will rejected.[328]
Now nor from the spirit's surface,
Nor with touch of thought unfriendly,
All the toil, I say, is welcome,
If men bring it to good issue.
And thou soon shalt know, enquiring
780
Him who rightly, him who wrongly
Of thy citizens fulfilleth
Task of office for the city.[329]
Agam. First Argos, and the Gods who guard the land,
'Tis right to greet; to them in part I owe
This my return, and vengeance that I took
On Priam's city. Not on hearsay proof
Judging the cause, with one consent the Gods
Cast in their votes into the urn of blood
For Ilion's ruin and her people's death;
*I' the other urn Hope touched the rim alone,
790
Still far from being filled full.[330] And even yet
The captured city by its smoke is seen,
*The incense clouds of Atè live on still;
And, in the act of dying with its prey,
From richest store the dust sends savours sweet.
For these things it is meet to give the Gods
Thank-offerings long-enduring; for our nets
Of vengeance we set close, and for a woman
Our Argive monster laid the city low,[331]
Foaled by the mare, a people bearing shield,
Taking its leap when set the Pleiades;[332]
And, bounding o'er the tower, that ravenous lion
800
Lapped up its fill of blood of kingly race.
This prelude to the Gods I lengthen out;
And as concerns thy feeling (this I well
Remember hearing) I with thee agree,
And thou in me may'st find an advocate.
With but few men is it their natural bent
To honour without grudging prosperous friend:
For ill-souled envy that the heart besets,
Doubles his woe who suffers that disease:
He by his own griefs first is overwhelmed,
And groans at sight of others' happier lot.
810
*And I with good cause say, (for well I know,)
They are but friendship's mirror, phantom shade,
Who seemed to be my most devoted friends.
Odysseus only, who against his will[333]
Sailed with us, still was found true trace-fellow:
And this I say of him or dead or living.
But as for all that touches on the State,
Or on the Gods, in full assembly we,
Calling our council, will deliberate:
820
For what goes well we should with care provide
How longest it may last; and where there needs
A healing charm, there we with all good-will,
By surgery or cautery will try
To turn away the mischief of disease.
And now will I to home and household hearth
Move on, and first give thanks unto the Gods
Who led me forth, and brought me back again.
Since Victory follows, long may she remain!
Enter Clytæmnestra, followed by female attendants
carrying purple tapestry
Clytæm. Ye citizens, ye Argive senators,
I will not shrink from telling you the tale
Of wife's true love. As time wears on one drops
830
All over-shyness. Not learning it from others,
I will narrate my own unhappy life,
The whole long time my lord at Ilion stayed.
For first, that wife should sit at home alone
Without her husband is a monstrous grief,
Hearing full many an ill report of him,
Now one and now another coming still,
Bringing news home, worse trouble upon bad.
Yea, if my lord had met as many wounds
As rumour told of, floating to our house,
840
He had been riddled more than any net;
And had he died, as tidings still poured in,
Then he, a second Geryon[334] with three lives,
Had boasted of a threefold coverlet
Of earth above, (I will not say below him,)[335]
Dying one death for each of those his forms;
And so, because of all these ill reports,
Full many a noose around my neck have others
Loosed by main force, when I had hung myself.
And for this cause no son is with me now,
850
Holding in trust the pledges of our love,
As he should be, Orestes. Wonder not;
For now a kind ally doth nurture him,
Strophios the Phokian, telling me of woes
Of twofold aspect, danger on thy side
At Ilion, and lest loud-voiced anarchy
Should overthrow thy council, since 'tis still
The wont of men to kick at those who fall.
No trace of guile bears this excuse of mine;
As for myself, the fountains of my tears
Have flowed till they are dry, no drop remains,
860
And mine eyes suffer from o'er-late repose,
Watching with tears the beacons set for thee,[336]
Left still unheeded. And in dreams full oft
I from my sleep was startled by the gnat
With thin wings buzzing, seeing in the night
Ills that stretched far beyond the time of sleep.[337]
Now, having borne all this, with mind at ease,
I hail my lord as watch-dog of the fold,
The stay that saves the ship, of lofty roof
870
Main column-prop, a father's only child,
Land that beyond all hope the sailor sees,
Morn of great brightness following after storm,
Clear-flowing fount to thirsty traveller.[338]
Yes, it is pleasant to escape all straits:
With words of welcome such as these I greet thee;
May jealous Heaven forgive them! for we bore
Full many an evil in the past; and now,
Dear husband, leave thy car, nor on the ground,
O King, set thou the foot that Ilion trampled.
880
Why linger ye, [turning to her attendants,] ye maids, whose task it was
To strew the pathway with your tapestries?
Let the whole road be straightway purple-strown,
That Justice lead to home he looked not for.
All else my care, by slumber not subdued,
Will with God's help work out what fate decrees.[339]
(The handmaids advance, and are about to lay the
purple carpets on the ground)
Agam. O child of Leda, guardian of my home,
Thy speech hath with my absence well agreed—
For long indeed thou mad'st it—but fit praise
Is boon that I must seek at other hands.
890
I pray thee, do not in thy woman's fashion
Pamper my pride, nor in barbaric guise
Prostrate on earth raise full-mouthed cries to me;
Make not my path offensive to the Gods
By spreading it with carpets.[340] They alone
May claim that honour; but for mortal men
To walk on fair embroidery, to me
Seems nowise without peril. So I bid you
To honour me as man, and not as God.
Apart from all foot-mats and tapestry
My fame speaks loudly; and God's greatest gift
900
Is not to err from wisdom. We must bless
Him only who ends life in fair estate.[341]
Should I thus act throughout, good hope were mine.
Clytæm. Nay, say not this my purposes to thwart.
Agam. Know I change not for the worse my purpose.
Clytæm. In fear, perchance, thou vowèd'st thus to act.
Agam. If any, I, with good ground spoke my will.[342]
Clytæm. What think'st thou Priam, had he wrought such deeds...?
Agam. Full gladly he, I trow, had trod on carpets.
Clytæm. Then shrink not thou through fear of men's dispraise.
910
Agam. And yet a people's whisper hath great might.[343]
Clytæm. Who is not envied is not enviable.
Agam. 'Tis not a woman's part to crave for strife.
Clytæm. True, yet the prosperous e'en should sometimes yield.
Agam. Dost thou then prize that victory in the strife?
Clytæm. Nay, list; with all good-will yield me this boon.
Agam. Well, then, if thou wilt have it so, with speed
Let some one loose my buskins[344] (servants they
Doing the foot's true work), and as I tread
Upon these robes sea-purpled, may no wrath
From glance of Gods smite on me from afar!
920
Great shame I feel to trample with my foot
This wealth of carpets, costliest work of looms;
So far for this. This stranger [pointing to Cassandra] lead thou in
With kindliness. On him who gently wields
His power God's eye looks kindly from afar.
None of their own will choose a bondslave's life;
And she, the chosen flower of many spoils,
Has followed with me as the army's gift.
But since I turn, obeying thee in this,
I'll to my palace go, on purple treading.
930
Clytæm. There is a sea,—and who shall drain it dry?
Producing still new store of purple juice,
Precious as silver, staining many a robe.
And in our house, with God's help, O my king,
'Tis ours to boast our palace knows no stint.
Trampling of many robes would I have vowed,
Had that been ordered me in oracles,
When for my lord's return I then did plan
My votive gifts. For while the root lives on,
The foliage stretches even to the house,
And spreads its shade against the dog-star's rage;
940
So when thou comest to thy hearth and home,
Thou show'st that warmth hath come in winter time;
And when from unripe clusters Zeus matures
The wine,[345] then is there coolness in the house,
If the true master dwelleth in his home.
Ah, Zeus! the All-worker, Zeus, work out for me
All that I pray for; let it be thy care
To look to what Thou purposest to work.[346]