Dunbar, Sewell, and Connington plead strongly for translating ἄγκαθεν here as in Eumen. v. 80, thus—

But this idea has always appeared to be more like the curious conceit of an ingenious philologist, than the natural conception of a great poet. Supposing the original reading to have been ἀνέκαθεν, the mere accidental lengthening of the leg of the ν by a hurried transcriber, would give the word the appearance of γ to a careless scrutinizer; and that this blunder was actually made the metre proves in Eumen. 361, in which passage, whatever Sew. may ingeniously force into it, the meaning from above is that which is most in harmony with the context. Besides, in such matters, I am conservative enough to have a certain respect for tradition.

“ἀνδρόβουλον seems to be used here ambiguously, and to be the first hint of lurking mischief. The gradual development of the coming evil from these casual hints is one of the chief dramatic beauties of the Agamemnon.”—Sew.

I have strongly rendered the strong term, ἐπορθιάζειν, which would necessarily suggest to the Greek the high-keyed notes of the νόμος ὄρθιος mentioned by Herod I. 22, as sung by Arion to the sailors. I think, however, it is going beyond the mark to say, with Symmons, “With loud acclaim, and Orthian minstrelsy,” retaining the word ὄρθιος which is only suggested, not expressed in the text, and printing it with a capital letter, as if it were a sort of music as distinct as the Mysian and Maryandine wailing, mentioned in the Persians. Thus, ὀρθίον κωκυμάτων φωνή, Soph. Antigone, 1206, means nothing but the voice of shrill wails, or, as Donaldson well translates the whole passage,

That is, the highest throw in the dice. “The dice (tessera, κύβοι), in games of chance among the ancients, were numbered on all the six sides, like the dice now in use; and three were used in playing. Hence arose the proverb, ἤ τρὶς ἓξ ἤ τρεῖς κύβοι, either three sixes or three aces, all or none.”—Dr. Smith’s Antiq. Dict. voce tessera.

Literally, a huge ox hath gone, an expression supposed to be derived from the figure of an ox, as the symbol of wealth, expressed on an old coin; in which case, to put the ox on a man’s tongue, would be equivalent to tipping it with silver, that is to say, giving money with injunction of secrecy. After the expression became proverbial, it might be used generally to express secrecy without any idea of bribery, which, as Con. remarks, is quite foreign to this place, and therefore Franz is wrong to translate “mir verschliesst ein golden Schloss den Mund.” I follow here, however, Humboldt and Sym. in not introducing the ox into the text, as it is apt to appear ludicrous; and, besides, the origin of the expression seems only conjectural.

Διόθεν. “ἐκ δε Διός βασιλῆες,” says the theogony. Homer also considers the kingly office as having a divine sanction, and Agamemnon on Earth represents Jupiter in Heaven.—Iliad I. 279; II. 197. And there can be no doubt that the highest authority in a commonwealth, whether regal or democratic, has a divine sanction, so long as it is exercised within its own bounds, and according to the laws of natural justice.

I have endeavoured to combine both the meanings of ἐκπατιόις which have any poetical value; that of Sym. lonely, and that of Klausen, wandering, and therefore excessive, which Con. well gives “with a wandering grief.” The same beautiful image is used by Shelley in his Adonais.

That the divine vengeance for evil deeds comes not immediately, but slowly, at a predestined season, is a doctrine as true in Christian theology as it is familiar to the Heathen dramatists. Therefore, Tiresias, in the Antigone, prophesies to Creon that “the avenging spirits of Hades and of Heaven, storing up mischief for a future day (ὑστεροφθόροι), would punish him for his crimes. But when the sword of Olympian justice is once drawn, then the execution of the divine judgment comes swiftly and by a short way, and no mortal can stay it.” As the same Sophocles says—

As he is the supreme ruler of the physical, so Jove has a providential supervision of the moral world, and in this capacity is the special punisher of those who sin (where human laws are weak to reach), by treachery or ingratitude, as was the case with Paris. This function of the Hellenic Supreme Deity is often piously recognized by Homer, as in Odys. XIV. 283—

ἀπύρων ἱερῶν, “fireless holy things.” By “tireless” is here meant, so far as I can see, not to be propitiated by fire, persons to whom all sacrificial appeals are vain. Whether the Fates or the Furies are meant there are no means of ascertaining; for both agree with the tone of feeling, and with the context; and as they are, in fact, fundamentally the same, as powers that always act in unison (Eumen. 165 and 949), the reader need not much care. It is possible, however, that the whole passage may bear the translation of “powers wroth for tireless altars,” i.e. neglected sacrifices.—So Humb. and Fr. Nor are we bound to explain what sacrifices, or by whom neglected; for omission of religious rites, known or unknown, was a cause, always at hand, with the ancients, to explain any outpouring of divine wrath. Buckley, following Bamberger and Dindorf, considers that the sacrifice of Iphigenia is alluded to; which is also probable enough. No commentary can make clear what the poet has purposely left dark.

We see in this passage the religious significancy, as it were, of the oil used in their sacred rites by the ancients; and we may further remark, with Sew., that “the oil used in religious rites was of great value. Compare the directions given in the Scriptures for making that which was used in the service of the Tabernacle,” and, generally—see Leviticus c. ii. for a description of the various kinds of sacred cakes made of fine flour and oil used in the sacrificial offerings of the Jews.

I have carefully read all that has been written on this difficult passage, and conclude that it is better to rest contented with the natural reference of ἀιὼν to the old age of the singer, indicated by ἐτι, and the previous tone of the Anapests, than to venture with Fr., Hum., and Linwood, on a reference which I cannot but think is more far-fetched. The line ἀλκὰν σύμφυτος ἀιων is corrupt, and no rigid rendering of it ought to be attempted. Buckley in a note almost disclaims his own version.

δυό λήμασι δισσούς. Surely this expression is too distinct and prominent to be slurred over lightly, as Con. seems inclined to do. I follow my own feeling of a passage so strongly marked by a peculiar phraseology, and Linwood. It will be observed that, in the Iliad, while Agamemnon behaves in a high and haughty style to Achilles, Menelaus conducts himself everywhere, and especially in the case of Antilochus (xxiii. 612), with mildness and moderation, so as justly to allow himself the boast,

“This is one of those extravagances of expression in which the wild fancy of Æschylus often indulged, and for which he is rallied by Aristophanes.”—Harford. I cannot allow this to pass without remark. No expression could be more appropriate to picture that singular combination of the celerity of the bird nature, with the ferocity of the quadruped, which is described here, and in the Prometheus, in the speech of Mercury. Besides, in the present case the prophetic style would well excuse the boldness of the phrase, were any excuse required. Harford has put the tame expression, “Eagles,” into his text; but Shelley in his “Prometheus Unbound,” had not the least hesitation to adopt the Greek phrase.

ἁ καλὰ, “the beauteous one,”—Sew. An epithet which Con. was surely wrong to omit, for it is characteristic. To this Müller has called attention in his Prolegomena zu einer wissensch; Mythologie (p. 75; edit. 1825) noting the expressions of Sappho, ἀρίστη καὶ καλλίστη, the best and the fairest, as applied to Artemis, according to the testimony of Pausanias, I. 29. The prominence given by Æschylus here to that function of Artemis, by which, as the goddess of beauty, she is protectress of the wild beasts of the forest, is quite Homeric; as we may see from these three lines of the Odyssey:—

According to the elemental origin of mythology, this superintendence naturally arose from the fact, that Artemis was the Moon, and that the wild beasts go abroad to seek for prey in the night time.

In the original Ιήἴον παιᾶνα, a well-known epithet of Apollo, as in the opening chorus of the Œdipus Tyrannos, Ιήϊέ Δάλιε παιάν, containing an invocation of the Delphic god, quoted by Peile. From the practice of frequently invoking the name of the gods in the public hymns, as in the modern Litanies, the name of the divine person passed over to the song that voiced his praises—(Iliad I. 473)—and thence became the appellation—as in the modern word pæan—for a hymn generally—(Proclus Chrestom. Gaisford. Hephaest., p. 419)—or at least a hymn of jubilee, sadness and sorrow of every kind being naturally abhorrent from the worship of the beneficent sun god (p. 72, above).

This passage is obscure in the original, and, no doubt, purposely so, as became the prophetic style. I do not, therefore, think we are bound, with Sym., to give the

a special and distinctly pronounced reference to Clytemnestra, displeased with Agamemnon for allowing the sacrifice of Iphigenia—

Though I have no doubt she is alluded to among other Furies that haunt the house of Atreus; and the poet very wisely supplies here a motive. So Well., and Lin.; and my version, though free, I hope does nothing more than express this idea of a retributive wrath brooding through long years over a doomed family, and ever and anon, when apparently laid, breaking out with new manifestations—an idea, however, so expressed in the present passage that, as Dr. Peile says, “No translation can adequately set it forth.”

After the above sublime introduction follows the Invocation of Jove, as the supreme over-ruling Deity, who alone, by his infinite power and wisdom, is able to lead the believing worshipper through the intricacies of a seemingly perplexed Providence. The passage is one of the finest in ancient poetry, and deserves to be specially considered by theological students. The reader will note carefully the reverential awe with which the Chorus names the god invoked—a feeling quite akin to that anxiety which takes possession of inexperienced people when they are called on to address written or spoken words to persons of high rank. Many instances of this kind are quoted from the ancients by Victorius, in Stanley’s notes, by Sym., and by Peile. The most familiar instance to which I can refer the general reader is in the second chapter of Livy’s first book:—

If in so obvious a matter a profound mythologist like Welcker—(Tril., p. 104)—should have found in this language of deepest reverence signs of free-thinking and irony, we have only another instance of the tyrannous power of a favourite idea to draw facts from their natural cohesion, that they may circle round the nucleus of an artificial crystallization. Sewell has also taken up the same idea with regard to the scepticism of this passage; and in him, no less, must we attribute this notion to the influence of a general theory with regard to the religious opinions of Æschylus, rather than to any criticism which the present passage could possibly warrant.

A very literal rendering of the short, but significant, original παμμαχῳ θρὰσει βρύων, on which Sym. remarks that “it presents the magnificent and, to us, incongruous image of a giant all-steeled for battle, and bearing his boldness like a tree bearing its blossoms.” But there is no reason that I know for confining βρύω here to its special use in Iliad XVII. 56 (Βρύει ἂυθ(ε)ι λευκῳ) and other such passages. It rather suggests generally, as Sew. says, “ideas of violence, exuberance, and uproar,” like βρυάζων in Suppl. 856. He has accordingly given

from which I have borrowed one word, with a slight alteration, but consider myself safer in not tying down the general word βρύων, to the special case of a torrent any more than of a tree. The recent Germans—“Im Gefühle stolzer Kraft” (Fr.), and “allbewährteu Trotzes hehr”—are miserably tame after Humboldt’s admirable “strotzend kampfbegierig frech.” As to the meaning of the passage, the three celestial dynasties of Uranus, Saturn, and Jove are plainly indicated, though who first threw this light on a passage certainly obscure, I cannot say. So far as I can see, it was Schutz. The Scholiast (A in Butler) talks of the Titans and Typhon, which is, at all events, on the right scent. Neither Abresch nor Stan. seem to have understood the passage; and Potter, disdaining to take a hint from the old Scholiast, generalises away about humanity.

The βιαίως certainly refers to the χάρις, and not to the ημένων, with the diluted sense of pollenter given it by Well.; and in this view I have no objection, with Blomfield and Con., to read βίαιος. I am not, however, so sure as Con. that the common reading is wrong. βιαίως may be an abrupt imperfectly enunciated expression (and there are not a few such in Æschylus) for exercising or using compulsion. Poets are not always the most accurate of grammarians.

The harbour of Aulis, opposite Euboea the district still called Ulike—(Wordsworth’s Athens and Attica, c. I.). In narrow passages of the sea, as at Corryvreckan, on the west coast of Scotland, there are apt to be strong eddies and currents; and this is specially noted of the channel between Aulis and Chalcis, by Livy (XXVIII. 6. haud facile alia infestior classi statio est) and other passages adduced by But. in Peile.

I am unable to see how the translation of this passage, given by Sym. agrees with the context and with the spirit of Agamemnon’s conduct, and the view of it taken by the poet. Sym. says—

And Droysen, though more literally, says the same thing—“Dass sie das windstillende Sühnopfer, das jungfraüliche Blut heischen und schreien, ist es denn recht? Nein, sieg das Gute!” and Fr. also takes θέμις out of Agamemnon’s mouth, and gives it to the Greeks. “Finden sie recht. Zum Heil sey’s!” Perhaps the reason for preferring this version with the Germans lies in giving too great a force and prominence to the μετέγνω in the following strophe. But this may refer only to the change of a father’s instinctive feelings (expressed by silence only in this ode) to the open resolution of making common cause with the diviner and the chieftain.

These words include both the τροπαίαν and the μετέγνω of the original. I join βρότους or βρότοις with the following clause, the sense being the same according to either reading. The verb θρασύνει, according to Con.’s very just reasoning, seems grammatically to require βρότους, though Fr. says, with a reference to Bernhardy, that βρότοις may be defended. Sym. has given a translation altogether different; though he admits that the sense given in my version, and in all the modern versions, is the most obvious one. His objection to connecting βρότους with the following sentence I do not understand.

προτέλεια ναῶν, First fruits, literally, as Sew. has it, will scarcely do here; “first piation of the wind-bound fleet” of Sym. is very good. Humb., Droy., and Fr. all use Weihe in different combinations; a word which seems to suit the present passage very well, and I have accordingly adopted the corresponding English term.

παντὶ θυμῷ προνωπῆ, literally “prone with her whole soul;” “body and soul,” as Con. has it. The words are so arranged that it is impossible to determine to what παντὶ θυμῳ refers, whether to the general action λαβεῖν, or to the special position προνωπῆ. Sewell’s remark that “there is far more intensity of thought in applying παντὶ θυμῷ to λαβεῖν,” may be turned the other way. The phrase certainly must give additional intensity to whichever word it is joined with. The act itself is sufficiently cruel, without adding any needless traits of ferocity.

κρόκου βαφὰς εις πέδον χέουσα; “dropping her saffron veil,” says Sym.; perhaps rightly, but I see no ground for certainty. The application of κρόκου βαφὰς to the drops of blood seems a modern idea, which has proceeded from some critic who had not poetry enough to understand the application of χέουσα to anything but a liquid. Except in peculiar circumstances, the word κρόκος, as Con. justly observes (see note 73 below), cannot be applied to the blood; and, in the present passage, it is plain the final work of the knife is left purposely undescribed.

I cannot sufficiently express my astonishment that Humb., Droy., and Fr., as if it were a point of Germanism, have all conspired to wrench the ἐτίμα out of its natural connection in this beautiful passage, and to apply the whole concluding clause to the self-devotion of Iphigenia at the altar, rather than to her dutiful obedience at the festal scene just described. The fine poetical feeling of Sym. protested against this piece of tastelessness. “These commentators,” says he, “seem to have been ignorant of the poet’s intention, who raises interest, pity, and honor to the height, by presenting Iphigenia at the altar, and unveiling herself preparatory to her barbarous execution, on which point of the picture he dwells, contrasting her present situation with her former happiness, her cheerfulness, her songs, and the festivities in her father’s house.” It is strange that the Germans do not see that ἔυποτμον ἀιῶνα is the most unfortunate of all terms to apply to the condition of Agamemnon, as a sacrificer; while it is most pertinent to his previous fortunes, before his evil destiny began to be revealed in the sacrifice of his beloved daughter.

It is both mortifying and consoling to think that all the learning which has been expended on this corrupt passage from Δίκα down to ἀυγαῖς, brings out nothing more than what already lies in the old Scholiast. As to the details of the text, I wish I could say, with the same confidence as Con., that Well. and Her.’s σύνορθρον ἀυγαῖς is a bit more certain than Fr.’s σύναρθρον ἀταις, which, however, I am inclined to prefer, from its agreeing better with the general sombre hue of the ode.

ἄπτερος is an epithet by negation after a fashion not at all uncommon in the Greek drama; the meaning being, though fame is not a bird, and has no wings, yet it flies as fast as if it had. The idea that ἄπτερος is the same as πτερωτὸς I agree with Con. is the mere expedient of despair. I have not the slightest doubt that Rumour is called a wingless messenger, just as Dust is called a voiceless messenger in the Seven against Thebes. Sym. is too subtle in explaining ἄπτερος after the analogy of the beautiful simile in Virgil, Æneid V. 215, so swift as not to appear to move its wings.

The geographical mountain points in the following famous descriptive passages are as follows: (1) Mount Ida, near Troy; (2) the Island of Lemnos, in the Ægean, half-way between Asia and Europe, due West; (3) Mount Athos, the South point of the most Easterly of the three peninsulas that form the South part of Macedonia; (4) a station somewhere betwixt Athos and Bœotia, which the poet has characterised only by the name of the Watchman Macistus; (5) the Messapian Mount, West of Anthedon in the North of Bœotia; (6) Mount Cithæron, in the South of Bœotia; (7) Mount Aegiplanctus, between Megara and Corinth; (8) Mount Arachne, in Argolis, between Tiryns and Epidaurus, not far from Argos.

I have not had the courage with Sym. to reject the πρὸς ἡδονὴν and supply a verb. The phrase is not colloquial, as he says, but occurs, as Well. points out, in Prom. 492. Medwyn has “crossing the breast of ocean with a speed plumed by its joy.” That there is some blunder in the passage the want of a verb seems to indicate, but, with our present means, it appears wise to let it alone; not, like Fr., from a mere conjecture, to introduce ἰχθῦς for ἰσχύς, and translate—

Are we never to see an end of these extremely ingenious, but very useless conjectures?

μη κατιζεσθαι—Heath. The true reading not to be discovered.

The Hindoos in their description of the primeval male who, with a thousand heads and a thousand faces, issued from the mundane egg, use the same image—“the hairs of his body are trees and plants, of his head the clouds, of his beard, lightning, and his nails are rocks.”—Colonel Vans Kennedy, Ch. VIII. Our translators generally (except Sew. and Con.) have eschewed transplanting this image literally into English; and even the Germans have stumbled, Fr. giving Feuersaüle most unhappily. Droy., when he says “Schweife,” gives the true idea, but I am not afraid to let the original stand.

I see no proof that πρῶν ever means anything but a promontory, and so cannot follow Con. in reading κάτοπτρον.

An allusion to the famous λαμπαδηφορία, or torch race, practised by the Greeks at the Parthenon and other festivals. In this race a burning torch was passed from hand to hand, so that, notwithstanding the extreme celerity of the movement, the flame might not go out. See the article by Liddell in the Dict. Antiq. where difficulties in the detail are explained.

The reading of Well. and the MS. ὡς δυσδαίμονες will never do, though Med. certainly has shown genius by striking out of it

The connection decidedly requires ῶς (ε)υδαιμονες, neither more nor less than “to their hearts’ content,” as I have rendered it. But one would almost be reconciled to the sad state of the text of Æschylus, if every difficulty were cleared with such a masterly bound as Med. here displays. The Germans, Fr. and Dr., incapable, or not liking such capers, adhere to the simple (ε)υδαίμονες. Humb., according to his general practice, follows the captainship of Hermann, and gives “Götterngleich (ὡς δε δαίμονες).”

This sober fear of the evil consequences of excess in the hour of triumph, so characteristic a trait of ancient poetry, and purposely introduced here by Clytemnestra to serve her own purpose, finds an apt illustration in the conduct of Camillus at the siege of Veii, as reported by Livy (V. 21)—

The reader is aware that in the ancient racecourse there was a meta, or goal, at each end of the course, round which the racers turned round (metaque fervidis evitata rotis.—Hor. Carm. I. 1; and Æneid V. 129).

ἀμπλακητος. In defence of this reading, which, with Well., I prefer, Con. has a very excellent note, to which I refer the critical reader. Fr., following Ahrens (as he often does), makes a bold transposition of the lines, but the sense remains pretty much the same. As to the guilt incurred by the Greeks, spoken of here and in the previous lines, the poet has put it, as some palliation of her own contemplated deed, into the mouth of Clytemnestra, but in perfect conformity also with the Homeric theology, which supposes that suffering must always imply guilt. Thus in the Odyss. III. 130-135, old Nestor explains to Telemachus:—

I cannot here forbear recalling to the reader’s recollection a similar passage in Milton:—

I have here paraphrased a little the two lines—

in which two evil powers are personified—Ate, destruction, and Peitho, persuasion, which here must be understood of that evil self-persuasion, by which, in the pride of self-will and vain confidence, a man justifies his worst deeds to himself, and is driven recklessly on to destruction. The case of Napoleon, in his Russian expedition, is in point. What follows shows that Paris is meant. As to the strange, truly Æschylean compound, προβουλόπαις, Con. says well, that the simple πρόβουλος means “one who joins in a preliminary vote,” and, of course, the compound is, as Lin. has it, a “forecounselling child.”

There is a great upheaping of incongruous images in this passage for which, perhaps, the poet may be blamed; as the one prevents the other from coming with a vivid and distinct impression on the mind. This image of the boy chasing the butterfly is, however, the one which places the inconsiderate love of Paris and Helen most distinctly before us; and it comes, therefore, with peculiar propriety, preceded by the more general and vague images, and immediately before the mention of the offender.

δόμων προφῆται. I have retained the original word here, because it appears most appropriate to the passage; but the reader must be warned, by a reference to the familiar example in Epist. Tit. I. 12, that with the ancients the characters of poet and prophet were confounded in a way that belongs not at all to our modern usage of the same words. Epimenides of Crete, in fact, to whom the Apostle Paul alludes, was not only a prophet, but also a physician, like Apollo (ἱατρόμαντις, Eumen. v. 62). In the same way the Hebrew word Nabah, prophetess, is applied to Miriam, Exod. xv. 20; and it may well be, that Æschylus, in the true spirit of these old times, and also following the deep religious inspiration of his Muse, alludes here to a character more sacred than the Homeric ἀοιδὸς, Minstrel or Bard, and this distinction should, of course, be preserved in the translation. Sew. with great happiness, in my opinion, has given “the bards of fate;” but it were useless to press any such nice matter in this passage, especially when we call to mind the high estimation in which the Homeric ἀοιδὸς stands in the Odyss., and the remarkable passage, III. 267, where a minstrel is represented as appointed by Agamemnon to counsel and control Clytemnestra in his absence, pretty much as a family confessor would do in a modern Roman Catholic family.

Here commences one of the most difficult, and at the same time one of the most beautiful passages in the Agamemnon. The words,