Agamemnon

prefaceTranslator’s preface MAY I be permitted to chat a little, by way of recreation, at the end of a somewhat toilsome and perhaps fruitless adventure? If, because of the immense fame of the following Tragedy, I wished to acquaint myself with it, and could only do so by the help of a translator, I should require him to be literal at every cost save that of absolute violence to our language. The use of certain allowable constructions which, happening to be out of daily favour, are all the more appropriate to archaic workmanship, is no violence: but I would be tolerant for once,—in the case of so immensely famous an original,—of even a clumsy attempt to furnish me with the very turn of each phrase in as Greek a fashion as English will bear: while, with respect to amplifications and embellishments,—anything rather than, with the good farmer, experience that most signal of mortifications, to gape for Aeschylus and get Theognis. I should especially decline,—what may appear to brighten up a passage,—the employment of a new word for some old one—πόνος, or μέγας, or τέλος, with its congeners, recurring four times in three lines: for though such substitution may be in itself perfectly justifiable, yet this exercise of ingenuity ought to be within the competence of the unaided English reader if he likes to show himself ingenious. Learning Greek teaches Greek, and nothing else: certainly not common sense, if that have failed to precede the teaching. Further,—if I obtained a mere strict bald version of thing by thing, or at least word pregnant with thing, I should hardly look for an impossible transmission of the reputed magniloquence and sonority of the Greek; and this with the less regret, inasmuch as there is abundant musicality elsewhere, but nowhere else than in his poem the ideas of the poet. And lastly, when presented with these ideas, I should expect the result to prove very hard reading indeed if it were meant to resemble Aeschylus, ξυμβαλεῖν οὐ ῥᾴδιος (Frogs 931), not easy to understand, in the opinion of his stoutest advocate among the ancients; while, I suppose, even modern scholarship sympathizes with that early declaration of the redoubtable Salmasius, when, looking about for an example of the truly obscure for the benefit of those who found obscurity in the sacred books, he protested that this particular play leaves them all behind in this respect, with their Hebraisms, Syriasms, Hellenisms, and the whole of such bag and baggage.†For, over and above the purposed ambiguity of the Chorus, the text is sadly corrupt, probably interpolated, and certainly mutilated; and no unlearned person enjoys the scholar’s privilege of trying his fancy upon each obstacle whenever he comes to a stoppage, and effectually clearing the way by suppressing what seems to lie in it. All I can say for the present performance is, that I have done as I would be done by, if need were. Should anybody, without need, honour my translation by a comparison with the original, I beg him to observe that, following no editor exclusively, I keep to the earlier readings so long as sense can be made out of them, but disregard, I hope, little of importance in recent criticism so far as I have fallen in with it. Fortunately, the poorest translation, provided only it be faithful,—though it reproduce all the artistic confusion of tenses, moods, and persons, with which the original teems,—will not only suffice to display what an eloquent friend maintains to be the all-in-all of poetry—the action of the piece— but may help to illustrate his assurance that the Greeks are the highest models of expression, the unapproached masters of the grand style: their expression is so excellent because it is so admirably kept in its right degree of prominence, because it is so simple and so well subordinated, because it draws its force directly from the pregnancy of the matter which it conveys... not a word wasted, not a sentiment capriciously thrown in, stroke on stroke!†So may all happen! Just a word more on the subject of my spelling—in a transcript from the Greek and there exclusively—Greek names and places precisely as does the Greek author. I began this practice, with great innocency of intention, some six-and-thirty years ago. Leigh Hunt, I remember, was accustomed to speak of his gratitude, when ignorant of Greek, to those writers (like Goldsmith) who had obliged him by using English characters, so that he might relish, for instance, the smooth quality of such a phrase as hapalunetai galené; he said also that Shelley was indignant at Firenze having displaced the Dantesque Fiorenza, and would contemptuously English the intruder Firence. I supposed I was doing a simple thing enough: but there has been till lately much astonishment at os and us, ai and oi, representing the same letters in Greek. Of a sudden, however, whether in translation or out of it, everybody seems committing the offence, although the adoption of u for v still presents such difficulty that it is a wonder how we have hitherto escaped Eyripides. But there existed a sturdy Briton who, Ben Jonson informs us, wrote The Life of the Emperor Anthony Pie — whom we now acquiesce in as Antoninus Pius: for with time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes satin. Yet there is, on all sides, much profession of respect for what Keats called vowelled Greek — consonanted, one would expect; and, in a criticism upon a late admirable translation of something of my own, it was deplored that, in a certain verse corresponding in measure to the fourteenth of the sixth Pythian Ode, neither Professor Jebb in his Greek, nor Mr. Browning in his English, could emulate that matchlessly musical γόνον ἰδὼν κάλλιστον ἀνδρῶν (Pyth. 4.123). Now, undoubtedly, Seeing her son the fairest of men has more sense than sound to boast of: but then, would not an Italian roll us out Rimirando il figliuolo bellissimo degli uomini! whereat Pindar, no less than Professor Jebb and Mr. Browning, τριακτῆρος οἴχεται τυχών (Ag. 171). It is recorded in the annals of Art†that there was once upon a time, practising so far north as Stockholm, a painter and picture-cleaner — sire of a less unhappy son — Old Muytens: and the annalist, Baron de Tessé, has not concealed his profound dissatisfaction at Old Muytens’ conceit to have himself had something to do with the work of whatever master of eminence might pass through his hands. Whence it was,—the Baron goes on to deplore,—that much detriment was done to that excellent piece The Recognition of Achilles, by Rubens, through the perversity of Old Muytens, who must needs take on him to beautify every nymph of the twenty by the bestowment of a widened eye and an enlarged mouth. I, at least, have left eyes and mouths everywhere as I found them, and this conservatism is all that claims praise for — what is, after all, ἀκέλευστος ἄμισθος ἀοιδά (Ag. 979). No, neither uncommanded nor unrewarded: since it was commanded of me by my venerated friend Thomas Carlyle, and rewarded will it indeed become if I am permitted to dignify it by the prefatory insertion of his dear and noble name. R. B. LONDON: October 1st, 1877. Warder. Choros of Old Men. KLUTAIMNESTRA. TALTHUBIOS, AGAMEMNON. KASSANDRA. AIGISTHOS.

1The gods I ask deliverance from these labours,

2Watch of a year’s length whereby, slumbering through it

3On the Atreidai’s roofs on elbow, — dog-like —

4I know of nightly star-groups the assemblage,

5And those that bring to men winter and summer

6Bright dynasts, as they pride them in the aether

7— Stars, when they wither, and the uprisings of them.

8And now on ward I wait the torch’s token,

9The glow of fire, shall bring from Troia message

10And word of capture: so prevails audacious

11The man’s-way-planning hoping heart of woman.

12But when I, driven from night-rest, dew-drenched hold to

13This couch of mine — not looked upon by visions,

14Since fear instead of sleep still stands beside me,

15So as that fast I fix in sleep no eyelids —

16And when to sing or chirp a tune I fancy,

17For slumber such song-remedy infusing,

18I wail then, for this House’s fortune groaning,

19Not, as of old, after the best ways governed.

20Now, lucky be deliverance from these labours,

21At good news — the appearing dusky fire!

22O hail, thou lamp of night, a day-long lightness

23Revealing, and of dances the ordainment!

24Halloo, halloo!

25To Agamemnon’s wife I show, by shouting,

26That, from bed starting up at once, i’ the household

27Joyous acclaim, good-omened to this torch-blaze,

28She send aloft, if haply Ilion’s city

29Be taken, as the beacon boasts announcing.

30Ay, and, for me, myself will dance a prelude,

31For, that my masters’ dice drop right, I’ll reckon:

32Since thrice-six has it thrown to me, this signal.

33Well, may it hap that, as he comes, the loved hand

34O’ the household’s lord I may sustain with this hand!

35As for the rest, I’m mute: on tongue a big ox

36Has trodden. Yet this House, if voice it take should,

37Most plain would speak. So, willing I myself speak

38To those who know: to who know not — I’m blankness.

40The tenth year this, since Priamos’ great match,

41King Menelaos, Agamemnon King,

42— The strenuous yoke-pair of the Atreidai’s honour

43Two-throned, two-sceptred, whereof Zeus was donor —

44Did from this land the aid, the armament despatch,

45The thousand-sailored force of Argives clamouring

46Aresfrom out the indignant breast, as fling

47Passion forth vultures which, because of grief

48Away, — as are their young ones, — with the thief,

49Lofty above their brood-nests wheel in ring,

50Row round and round with oar of either wing,

51Lament the bedded chicks, lost labour that was love:

52Which hearing, one above

53— Whether Apollon, Pan or Zeus — that wail,

54Sharp-piercing bird-shriek of the guests who fare

55Housemates with gods in air —

56Suchanone sends, against who these assail,

57What, late-sent, shall not fail

58Of punishing — Erinus. Here as there,

59The Guardian of the Guest, Zeus, the excelling one,

60Sends against Alexandros either son

61Of Atreus: for that wife, the many-husbanded,

62Appointing many a tug that tries the limb,

63While the knee plays the prop in dust, while, shred

64To morsels, lies the spear-shaft; in those grim

65Marriage-prolusions when their Fury wed

66Danaoi and Troes, both alike. All’s said:

67Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed,

68So shall they be fulfilled.

69Not gently-grieving, not just doling out

70The drops of expiation — no, nor tears distilled —

71Shall he we know of bring the hard about

71aTo soft — that intense ire

71bAt those mock rites unsanctified by fire.

72But we pay nought here: through our flesh, age-weighed,

73Left out from who gave aid

74In that day, — we remain,

74aStaying on staves a strength

75The equal of a child’s at length.

76For when young marrow in the breast doth reign,

77That’s the old man’s match, — Ares out of place

78In either: but in oldest age’s case,

79Foliage a-fading, why, he wends his way

80On three feet, and, no stronger than a child,

81Wanders about gone wild,

82A dream in day.

83But thou, Tundareus’ daughter, Klutaimnestra queen,

84What need? What new? What having heard or seen,

85By what announcement’s tidings, everywhere

86Settest thou, round about, the sacrifice a-flare?

87For, of all gods the city-swaying,

88Those supernal, those infernal,

89Those of the fields’, those of the mart’s obeying, —

90The altars blaze with gifts;

91And here and there, heaven-high the torch uplifts

92Flame-medicated with persuasions mild,

93With foul admixture unbeguiled —

94Of holy unguent, from the clotted chrism

95Brought from the palace, safe in its abysm.

96Of these things, speaking what may be indeed

97Both possible and lawful to concede,

98Healer do thou become! — of this solicitude

99Which, now, stands plainly forth of evil mood,

100And, then... but from oblations, hope, to-day

101Gracious appearing, wards away

102From soul the insatiate care,

103The sorrow at my breast, devouring there!

104Empowered am I to sing

105The omens, what their force which, journeying,

106Rejoiced the potentates:

107(For still, from God, inflates

108My breast song-suasion: age,

109Born to the business, still such war can wage)

110— How the fierce bird against the Teukris land

111Despatched, with spear and executing hand,

112The Achaian’s two-throned empery—o’er Hellas’ youth

113Two rulers with one mind:

114The birds’ king to these kings of ships, on high,

115— The black sort, and the sort that’s white behind, —

116Appearing by the palace, on the spear-throw side,

117In right sky-regions, visible far and wide, —

118Devouring a hare-creature, great with young,

119Baulked of more racings they, as she from whom they sprung!

120Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!

121But may the good prevail!

122The prudent army-prophet seeing two

123The Atreidai, two their tempers, knew

123aThose feasting on the hare

124The armament-conductors were;

125And thus he spoke, explaining signs in view.

126In time, this outset takes the town of Priamos:

127But all before its towers, — the people’s wealth that was,

128Of flocks and herds, — as sure, shall booty-sharing thence

129Drain to the dregs away, by battle violence.

130Only, have care lest grudge of any god disturb

131With cloud the unsullied shine of that great force, the curb

132Of Troia, struck with damp

133Beforehand in the camp!

134For envyingly is

135The virgin Artemis

136Toward — her father’s flying hounds — this House —

137The sacrificers of the piteous

137aAnd cowering beast,

138Brood and all, ere the birth: she hates the eagles’ feast.

139Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!

139aBut may the good prevail!

140Thus ready is the beauteous one with help

141To those small dewdrop-things fierce lions whelp,

142And udder-loving litter of each brute

143That roams the mead; and therefore makes she suit,

144The fair one, for fulfilment to the end

145Of things these signs portend —

145aWhich partly smile, indeed, but partly scowl —

146The phantasms of the fowl.

147I call Ieïos Paian to avert

148She work the Danaoi hurt

149By any thwarting waftures, long and fast

150Holdings from sail of ships:

151And sacrifice, another than the last,

151aShe for herself precipitate —

151bSomething unlawful, feast for no man’s lips,

152Builder of quarrels, with the House cognate —

153Having in awe no husband: for remains

154A frightful, backward-darting in the path,

155Wily house-keeping chronicler of wrath,

155aThat has to punish that old children’s fate!

156Such things did Kalchas, — with abundant gains

156aAs well, — vociferate,

157Predictions from the birds, in journeying,

157aAbove the abode of either king.

158With these, symphonious, sing —

159Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!

159aBut may the good prevail!

160Zeus, whosoe’er he be, — if that express

161Aught dear to him on whom I call —

162So do I him address.

163I cannot liken out, by all

164Admeasurement of powers,

165Any but Zeus for refuge at such hours,

165aIf veritably needs I must

166From off my soul its vague care-burthen thrust.

167Not — whosoever was the great of yore,

168Bursting to bloom with bravery all round —

169Is in our mouths: he was, but is no more.

170And who it was that after came to be,

171Met the thrice-throwing wrestler, — he

172Is also gone to ground.

173But Zeus — if any, heart and soul, that name —

174Shouting the triumph-praise — proclaim,

175Complete in judgment shall that man be found.

176Zeus, who leads onward mortals to be wise,

177Appoints that suffering masterfully teach.

178In sleep, before the heart of each,

179A woe-remembering travail sheds in dew

180Discretion, — ay, and melts the unwilling too

181By what, perchance, may be a graciousness

182Of gods, enforced no less, —

183As they, commanders of the crew,

183aAssume the awful seat.

184And then the old leader of the Achaian fleet,

185Disparaging no seer —

186With bated breath to suit misfortune’s inrush here

187— (What time it laboured, that Achaian host,

188By stay from sailing, — every pulse at length

189Emptied of vital strength, —

190Hard over Kalchis shore-bound, current-crost

191In Aulis station, — while the winds which post

192From Strumon, ill-delayers, famine-fraught,

193Tempters of man to sail where harbourage is naught,

194Spendthrifts of ships and cables, turning time

195To twice the length, — these carded, by delay,

196To less and less away

197The Argeians’ flowery prime:

198And when a remedy more grave and grand

199Than aught before, — yea, for the storm and dearth, —

200The prophet to the foremost in command

201Shrieked forth, as cause of this

202Adducing Artemis,

203So that the Atreidai striking staves on earth

204Could not withhold the tear) —

205Then did the king, the elder, speak this clear.

206Heavy the fate, indeed, — to disobey!

207Yet heavy if my child I slay,

208The adornment of my household: with the tide

209Of virgin-slaughter, at the altar-side,

210A father’s hands defiling: which the way

211Without its evils, say?

212How shall I turn fleet-fugitive,

213Failing of duty to allies?

214Since for a wind-abating sacrifice

215And virgin blood, —’t is right they strive,

216Nay, madden with desire.

217Well may it work them — this that they require!

218But when he underwent necessity’s

219Yoke-trace, — from soul blowing unhallowed change

220Unclean, abominable, — thence—another man —

221The audacious mind of him began

221aIts wildest range.

222For this it is gives mortals hardihood —

223Some vice-devising miserable mood

223aOf madness, and first woe of all the brood.

224The sacrificer of his daughter — strange! —

225He dared become, to expedite

226Woman-avenging warfare, — anchors weighed

227With such prelusive rite!

228Prayings and callings Father — naught they made

229Of these, and of the virgin-age, —

230Captains heart-set on war to wage!

231His ministrants, vows done, the father bade —

232Kid-like, above the altar, swathed in pall,

233Take her — lift high, and have no fear at all,

234Head-downward, and the fair mouth’s guard

235And frontage hold, — press hard

236From utterance a curse against the House

238By dint of bit-violence bridling speech.

239And as to ground her saffron-vest she shed,

240She smote the sacrificers all and each

241With arrow sweet and piteous,

241aFrom the eye only sped, —

242Significant of will to use a word,

242aJust as in pictures: since, full many a time,

243In her sire’s guest-hall, by the well-heaped board

244Had she made music, — lovingly with chime

245Of her chaste voice, that unpolluted thing,

246Honoured the third libation, — paian that should bring

247Good fortune to the sire she loved so well.

248What followed — those things I nor saw nor tell.

249But Kalchas’ arts, — whate’er they indicate, —

249aMiss of fulfilment never: it is fate.

250True, justice makes, in sufferers, a desire

250aTo know the future woe preponderate.

251But — hear before is need?

251aTo that, farewell and welcome!’t is the same, indeed,

252As grief beforehand: clearly, part for part,

253Conformably to Kalchas’ art,

254Shall come the event.

255But be they as they may, things subsequent, —

256What is to do, prosperity betide

256aE’en as we wish it! — we, the next allied,

257Sole guarding barrier of the Apian land.

258I am come, reverencing power in thee,

259O Klutaimnestra! For’t is just we bow

260To the ruler’s wife, — the male-seat man-bereaved.

261But if thou, having heard good news, — or none, —

262For good news’ hope dost sacrifice thus wide,

263I would hear gladly: art thou mute, — no grudge!

264Good-news-announcer, may — as is the by-word —

265Morn become, truly, — news from Night his mother!

266But thou shalt learn joy past all hope of hearing.

267Priamos’ city have the Argeioi taken.

268How sayest? The word, from want of faith, escaped me.

269Troia the Achaioi hold: do I speak plainly?

270Joy overcreeps me, calling forth the tear-drop.

271Right! for, that glad thou art, thine eye convicts thee.

272For — what to thee, of all this, trusty token?

273What’s here! how else? unless the god have cheated.

274Haply thou flattering shows of dreams respectest?

275No fancy would I take of soul sleep-burthened.

276But has there Puffed thee up some unwinged omen?

277As a young maid’s my mind thou mockest grossly.

278Well, at what time was — even sacked, the city?

279Of this same mother Night — the dawn, I tell thee.

280And who of messengers could reach this swiftness?

281Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide.

282Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster,

283Hitherward: Ide to the rock Hermaian

284Of Lemnos: and a third great torch o’ the island

285Zeus’ seat received in turn, the Athoan summit.

286And, — so upsoaring as to stride sea over,

287The strong lamp-voyager, and all for joyance —

288Did the gold-glorious splendour, any sun like,

289Pass on — the pine-tree — to Makistos’ watch-place;

290Who did not, — tardy, — caught, no wits about him,

291By sleep, — decline his portion of the missive.

292And far the beacon’s light, on stream Euripos

293Arriving, made aware Messapios’ warders,

294And up they lit in turn, played herald onwards,

295Kindling with flame a heap of grey old heather.

296And, strengthening still, the lamp, decaying nowise,

297Springing o’er Plain Asopos, — full-moon-fashion

298Effulgent, — toward the crag of Mount Kithairon,

299Roused a new rendering-up of fire the escort —

300And light, far escort, lacked no recognition

301O’ the guard — as burning more than burnings told you.

302And over Lake Gorgopis light went leaping,

303And, at Mount Aigiplanktos safe arriving,

304Enforced the law — to never stint the fire-stuff.

305And they send, lighting up with ungrudged vigour,

306Of flame a huge beard, ay, the very foreland

307So as to strike above, in burning onward,

308The look-out which commands the Strait Saronic.

309Then did it dart until it reached the outpost

310Mount Arachnaios here, the city’s neighbour;

311And then darts to this roof of the Atreidai

312This light of Ide’s fire not unforefathered!

313Such are the rules prescribed the flambeau-bearers:

314He beats that’s first and also last in running.

315Such is the proof and token I declare thee,

316My husband having sent me news from Troia.

317The gods, indeed, anon will I pray, woman!

318But now, these words to hear, and sate my wonder

319Thoroughly, I am fain — if twice thou tell them.

320Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day.

321I think a noise — no mixture — reigns i’ the city.

322Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel —

323Standers-apart, not lovers, wouldst thou style them:

324And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise

325The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.

326For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate

327Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents

328— The old men, from a throat that’s free no longer,

329Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:

330While these — the after-battle hungry labour,

331Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast

332On the town’s store, according to no billet

333Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.

334In the spear-captured Troic habitations

335House they already: from the frosts upmethral

336And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,

337Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.

338And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders,

339And the gods’ structures of the conquered country,

340They may not — capturers—soon in turn be captive.

341But see no prior lust befall the army

342To sack things sacred — by gain-cravings vanquished

343For there needs homeward the return’s salvation,

344To round the new limb back o’ the double race-course.

345And guilty to the gods if came the army,

346Awakened up the sorrow of those slaughtered

347Might be — should no outbursting evils happen.

348But may good beat — no turn to see i’ the balance!

349For, many benefits I want the gain of.

351Woman, like prudent man thou kindly speakest.

352And I, thus having heard thy trusty tokens,

353The gods to rightly hail forthwith prepare me;

354For, grace that must be paid has crowned our labours.

355O Zeus the king, and friendly Night

356Of these brave boons bestower —

357Thou who didst fling on Troia’s every tower

358The o’er-roofing snare, that neither great thing might,

359Nor any of the young ones, overpass

360Captivity’s great sweep-net — one and all

361Of Até held in thrall!

362Ay, Zeus I fear — the guest’s friend great — who was

363The doer of this, and long since bent

364The bow on Alexandros with intent

365That neither wide o’ the white

366Nor o’er the stars the foolish dart should light.

367The stroke of Zeus — they have it, as men say!

368This, at least, from the source track forth we may!

369As he ordained, so has he done.

369aNo — said someone —

370The gods think fit to care

371Nowise for mortals, such

372As those by whom the good and fair

373Of things denied their touch

374Is trampled! but he was profane.

375That they do care, has been made plain

376To offspring of the over-bold,

377Outbreathing Ares greater than is just —

378Houses that spill with more than they can hold,

379More than is best for man. Be man’s what must

380Keep harm off, so that in himself he find

381Sufficiency — the well-endowed of mind!

382For there’s no bulwark in man’s wealth to him

383Who, through a surfeit, kicks — into the dim

384And disappearing — Right’s great altar.

385Yes —

385aIt urges him, the sad persuasiveness,

386Até’s insufferable child that schemes

387Treason beforehand: and all cure is vain.

388It is not hidden: out it glares again,

389A light dread-lamping-mischief, just as gleams

390The badness of the bronze;

391Through rubbing, puttings to the touch,

392Black-clotted is he, judged at once.

393He seeks — the boy — a flying bird to clutch,

394The insufferable brand

395Setting upon the city of his land

396Whereof not any god hears prayer;

397While him who brought about such evils there,

398That unjust man, the god in grapple throws.

399Such an one, Paris goes

400Within the Atreidai’s house —

401Shamed the guest’s board by robbery of the spouse.

403And, leaving to her townsmen throngs a-spread

404With shields, and spear-thrusts of sea-armament,

405And bringing Ilion, in a dowry’s stead,

406Destruction — swiftly through the gates she went,

407Daring the undareable. But many a groan outbroke

408From prophets of the House as thus they spoke.

409Woe, woe the House, the House and Rulers, — woe

410The marriage-bed and dints

411A husband’s love imprints!

412There she stands silent! meets no honour — no

413Shame — sweetest still to see of things gone long ago!

414And, through desire of one across the main,

415A ghost will seem within the house to reign.

416And hateful to the husband is the grace

417Of well-shaped statues: from — in place of eyes

418Those blanks — all Aphrodite dies.

420But dream-appearing mournful fantasies —

421There they stand, bringing grace that’s vain.

423For vain’t is, when brave things one seems to view;

424The fantasy has floated off, hands through;

425Gone, that appearance, — nowise left to creep, —

426On wings, the servants in the paths of sleep!

427Woes, then, in household and on hearth, are such

428As these—and woes surpassing these by much.

429But not these only: everywhere —

429aFor those who from the land

429bOf Hellas issued in a band,

430Sorrow, the heart must bear,

431Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there.

432Many a circumstance, at least,

433Touches the very breast.

434For those

434aWhom any sent away, — he knows:

434bAnd in the live man’s stead,

435Armour and ashes reach

436The house of each.

437For Ares, gold-exchanger for the dead,

438And balance-holder in the fight o’ the spear,

439Due-weight from Ilion sends —

440What moves the tear on tear —

441A charred scrap to the friends:

442Filling with well-packed ashes every urn,

443For man — that was — the sole return.

444And they groan — praising much, the while,

445Now this man as experienced in the strife,

446Now that, fallen nobly on a slaughtered pile,

447Because of — not his own — another’s wife.

448But things there be, one barks,

449When no man harks:

450A surreptitious grief that’s grudge

451Against the Atreidai who first sought the judge.

452But some there, round the rampart, have

453In Ilian earth, each one his grave:

454All fair-formed as at birth,

455It hid them — what they have and hold — the hostile earth.

456And big with anger goes the city’s word,

457And pays a debt by public curse incurred.

458And ever with me— as about to hear

460A something night-involved — remains my fear:

461Since of the many-slayers — not

462Unwatching are the gods.

463The black Erinues, at due periods —

464Whoever gains the lot

464aOf fortune with no right —

465Him, by life’s strain and stress

465aBack-again-beaten from success,

466They strike blind: and among the out-of-sight

467For who has got to be, avails no might.

468The being praised outrageously

469Is grave, for at the eyes of such an one

470Is launched, from Zeus, the thunder-stone.

471Therefore do I decide

471aFor so much and no more prosperity

472Than of his envy passes unespied.

473Neither a city-sacker would I be,

474Nor life, myself by others captive, see.

475A swift report has gone our city through,

476From fire, the good-news messenger: if true,

477Who knows? Or is it not a god-sent lie?

479Who is so childish and deprived of sense

480That, having, at announcements of the flame

481Thus novel, felt his own heart fired thereby,

482He then shall at a change of evidence,

482aBe worsted just the same?

483It is conspicuous in a woman’s nature,

484Before its view to take a grace for granted:

485Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature

486Is swiftly made;

486aBut swiftly, too, decayed,

487The glory perishes by woman vaunted.

488Soon shall we know — of these light-bearing torches,

489And beacons and exchanges, fire with fire —

490If they are true, indeed, or if, dream-fashion,

491This gladsome light came and deceived our judgment.

492Yon herald from the shore I see, o’ershadowed

493With boughs of olive: dust, mud’s thirsty brother,

494Close neighbours on his garb, thus testify me

495That neither voiceless, nor yet kindling for thee

496Mountain-wood-flame, shall he explain by fire-smoke:

497But either tell out more the joyance, speaking..

498Word contrary to which, I aught but love it!

499For may good be — to good that’s known — appendage!

500Whoever prays for aught else to this city

501— May he himself reap fruit of his mind’s error!

502Ha, my forefathers’ soil of earth Argeian!

503Thee, in this year’s tenth light, am I returned to —

504Of many broken hopes, on one hope chancing;

505For never prayed I, in this earth Argeian

506Dying, to share my part in tomb the dearest.

507Now, hail thou earth, and hail thou also, sunlight,

508And Zeus, the country’s lord, and king the Puthian

509From bow no longer urging at us arrows!

510Enough, beside Skamandros, cam’st thou adverse:

511Now, contrary, be saviour thou and healer,

512O king Apollon! And gods conquest-granting,

513All — I invoke too, and my tutelary

514Hermes, dear herald, heralds’ veneration, —

515And Heroes our forthsenders, — friendly, once more

516The army to receive, the war-spear’s leavings!

517Ha, mansions of my monarchs, roofs beloved,

518And awful seats, and deities sun-fronting —

519Receive with pomp your monarch, long time absent!

520For he comes bringing light in night-time to you,

521In common with all these — king Agamemnon.

522But kindly greet him — for clear shows your duty —

523Who has dug under Troia with the mattock

524Of Zeus the Avenger, whereby plains are out-ploughed,

525Altars unrecognizable, and gods’ shrines,

526And the whole land’s seed thoroughly has perished.

527And such a yoke-strap having cast round Troia,

528The elder king Atreides, happy man — he

529Comes to be honoured, worthiest of what mortals

530Now are. Nor Paris nor the accomplice-city

531Outvaunts their deed as more than they are done-by:

532For, in a suit for rape and theft found guilty,

533He missed of plunder and, in one destruction,

534Fatherland, house and home has mowed to atoms:

535Debts the Priamidai have paid twice over.

538Hail, herald from the army of Achaians!

539I hail: — to die, will gainsay gods no longer!

540Love of this fatherland did exercise thee?

541So that I weep, at least, with joy, my eyes full.

542What, of this gracious sickness were ye gainers?

543How now? instructed, I this speech shall master.

544For those who loved you back, with longing stricken.

545This land yearned for the yearning army, say’st thou?

546So as to set me oft, from dark mind, groaning.

547Whence came this ill mind — hatred to the army?

548Of old, I use, for mischiefs physic, silence.

549And how, the chiefs away, did you fear any?

550So that now, — late thy word, — much joy were — dying!

551For well have things been worked out: these, — in much time,

552Some of them, one might say, had luck in falling,

553While some were faulty: since who, gods excepted,

554Goes, through the whole time of his life, ungrieving?

555For labours should I tell of, and bad lodgments,

556Narrow deckways ill-strewn, too, — what the day’s woe

557We did not groan at getting for our portion?

558As for land-things, again, on went more hatred!

559Since beds were ours hard by the foemen’s ramparts,

560And, out of heaven and from the earth, the meadow

561Dews kept a-sprinkle, an abiding damage

562Of vestures, making hair a wild-beast matting.

563Winter, too, if one told of it — bird-slaying —

564Such as, unbearable, Idaian snow brought —

565Or heat, when waveless, on its noontide couches

566Without a wind, the sea would slumber falling

567— Why must one mourn these? O’er and gone is labour:

568O’er and gone is it, even to those dead ones,

569So that no more again they mind uprising.

570Why must we tell in numbers those deprived ones,

571And the live man be vexed with fate’s fresh outbreak?

572Rather, I bid full farewell to misfortunes!

573For us, the left from out the Argeian army,

574The gain beats, nor does sorrow counterbalance.

575So that’t is fitly boasted of, this sunlight,

576By us, o’er sea and land the aery flyers,

577Troia at last taking, the band of Argives

578Hang up such trophies to the gods of Hellas

579Within their domes — new glory to grow ancient!

580Such things men having heard must praise the city

581And army-leaders: and the grace which wrought them —

582Of Zeus, shall honoured be. Thou hast my whole word.

583O’ercome by words, their sense I do not gainsay.

584For, aye this breeds youth in the old — to learn well.

585But these things most the house and Klutaimnestra

586Concern,’t is likely: while they make me rich, too.

587I shouted long ago, indeed, for joyance,

588When came that first night-messenger of fire

589Proclaiming Ilion’s capture and dispersion.

590And someone, girding me, said, Through fire-bearers

591Persuaded — Troia to be sacked now, thinkest?

592Truly, the woman’s way, — high to lift heart up!

593By such words I was made seem wit-bewildered:

594Yet still I sacrificed; and, — female-song with, —

595A shout one man and other, through the city,

596Set up, congratulating in the gods’ seats,

597Soothing the incense-eating flame right fragrant.

598And now, what’s more, indeed, why need’st thou tell me?

599I of the king himself shall learn the whole word:

600And, — as may best be, — I my revered husband

601Shall hasten, as he comes back, to receive: for —

602What’s to a wife sweeter to see than this light

603(Her husband, by the god saved, back from warfare)

604So as to open gates? This tell my husband —

605To come at soonest to his loving city.

606A faithful wife at home may he find, coming!

607Such an one as he left — the dog o’ the household —

608Trusty to him, adverse to the ill-minded,

609And, in all else, the same: no signet-impress

610Having done harm to, in that time’s duration.

611I know nor pleasure, nor blameworthy converse

612With any other man more than — bronze-dippings!

613Such boast as this — brimful of the veracious —

614Is, for a high-born dame, not bad to send forth!

615Ay, she spoke thus to thee — that hast a knowledge

616From clear interpreters — a speech most seemly.

617But speak thou, herald! Meneleos I ask of:

618If he, returning, back in safety also

619Will come with you — this land’s beloved chieftain?

620There’s no way I might say things false and pleasant

621For friends to reap the fruits of through a long time.

622How then if, speaking good, things true thou chance on?

623For not well-hidden things become they, sundered.

624The man has vanished from the Achaic army,

625He and his ship too. I announce no falsehood.

626Whether forth-putting openly from Ilion,

627Or did storm — wide woe — snatch him from the army?

628Like topping bowman, thou hast touched the target,

629And a long sorrow hast succinctly spoken.

630Whether, then, of him, as a live or dead man

631Was the report by other sailors bruited?

632Nobody knows so as to tell out clearly

633Excepting Helios who sustains earth’s nature.

634How say’st thou then, did storm the naval army

635Attack and end, by the celestials’ anger?

636It suits not to defile a day auspicious

637With ill-announcing speech: distinct each god’s due:

638And when a messenger with gloomy visage

639To a city bears a fall’n host’s woes— God ward off! —

640One popular wound that happens to the city,

641And many sacrificed from many households —

642Men, scourged by that two-thonged whip Ares loves so,

643Double spear-headed curse, bloody yoke-couple, —

644Of woes like these, doubtless, whoe’er comes weighted,

645Him does it suit to sing the Erinues’ paian.

646But who, of matters saved a glad-news-bringer,

647Comes to a city in good estate rejoicing....

648How shall I mix good things with evil, telling

649Of storm against the Achaioi, urged by gods’ wrath?

650For they swore league, being arch-foes before that,

651Fire and the sea: and plighted troth approved they,

652Destroying the unhappy Argeian army.

653At night began the bad-wave-outbreak evils;

654For, ships against each other Threkian breezes

655Shattered: and these, butted at in a fury

656By storm and typhoon, with surge rain-resounding, —

657Off they went, vanished, thro’ a bad herd’s whirling.

658And, when returned the brilliant light of Helios,

659We view the Aigaian sea on flower with corpses

660Of men Achaian and with naval ravage.

661But us indeed, and ship, unhurt i’ the hull too,

662Either someone outstole us or outprayed us —

663Some god — no man it was the tiller touching.

664And Fortune, saviour, willing on our ship sat.

665So as it neither had in harbour wave-surge

666Nor ran aground against a shore all rocky.

667And then, the water-Haides having fled from

668In the white day, not trusting to our fortune,

669We chewed the cud in thoughts — this novel sorrow

670O’ the army labouring and badly pounded.

671And now — if anyone of them is breathing —

672They talk of us as having perished: why not?

673And we — that they the same fate have, imagine.

674May it be for the best! Meneleos, then,

675Foremost and specially to come, expect thou!

676If (that is) any ray o’ the sun reports him

677Living and seeing too—by Zeus’ contrivings,

678Not yet disposed to quite destroy the lineage —

679Some hope is he shall come again to household.

680Having heard such things, know, thou truth art hearing!

681Who may he have been that named thus wholly with exactitude —

682(Was he someone whom we see not, by forecastings of the future

683Guiding tongue in happy mood?)

684— Her with battle for a bridegroom, on all sides contention-wooed,

685Helena? Since — mark the suture! —

686Ship’s-Hell, Man’s-Hell, City’s-Hell,

687From the delicately-pompous curtains that pavilion well,

688Forth, by favour of the gale

689Of earth-born Zephuros did she sail.

690Many shield-bearers, leaders of the pack,

691Sailed too upon their track,

692Theirs who had directed oar,

693Then visible no more,

694To Simois’ leaf-luxuriant shore —

695For sake of strife all gore!

699To Ilion Wrath, fulfilling her intent,

700This marriage-care — the rightly named so — sent:

701In after-time, for the tables’ abuse

702And that of the hearth-partaker Zeus,

703Bringing to punishment

704Those who honoured with noisy throat

705The honour of the bride, the hymenseal note

706Which did the kinsfolk then to singing urge.

707But, learning a new hymn for that which was,

708The ancient city of Priamos

709Groans probably a great and general dirge,

710Denominating Paris

711The man that miserably marries: —

712She who, all the while before,

713A life, that was a general dirge

714For citizens’ unhappy slaughter, bore.

716And thus a man, by no milk’s help,

717Within his household reared a lion’s whelp

718That loved the teat

719In life’s first festal stage:

720Gentle as yet,

721A true child-lover, and, to men of age,

722A thing whereat pride warms;

723And oft he had it in his arms

724Like any new-born babe, bright-faced, to hand

725Wagging its tail, at belly’s strict command.

727But in due time upgrown,

728The custom of progenitors was shown:

729For-thanks for sustenance repaying

730With ravage of sheep slaughtered —

731It made unbidden feast;

732With blood the house was watered,

733To household came a woe there was no staying:

734Great mischief many-slaying!

737From God it was-some priest

738Of Até, in the house, by nurture thus increased.

739At first, then, to the city of Ilion went

740A soul, as I might say, of windless calm —

741Wealth’s quiet ornament,

742An eyes’-dart bearing balm,

743Love’s spirit-biting flower.

744But — from the true course bending —

745She brought about, of marriage, bitter ending:

746Ill-resident, ill-mate, in power

747Passing to the Priamidai — by sending

748Of Hospitable Zeus —

749Erinus for a bride, — to make brides mourn, her dower.

750Spoken long ago

751Was the ancient saying

752Still among mortals staying:

753Man’s great prosperity at height of rise

754Engenders offspring nor unchilded dies;

755And, from good fortune, to such families,

756Buds forth insatiate woe.

757Whereas, distinct from any,

758Of my own mind I am:

759For’t is the unholy deed begets the many,

760Resembling each its dam.

761Of households that correctly estimate,

762Ever a beauteous child is born of Fate.

763But ancient Arrogance delights to generate

764Arrogance, young and strong mid mortals’ sorrow,

765Or now, or then, when comes the appointed morrow.

766And she bears young Satiety;

767And, fiend with whom nor fight nor war can be,

768Unholy Daring — twin black Curses

769Within the household, children like their nurses.

772But Justice shines in smoke-grimed habitations,

773And honours the well-omened life;

774While, — gold-besprinkled stations

775Where the hands’ filth is rife,

776With backward-turning eyes

777Leaving, — to holy seats she hies,

778Not worshipping the power of wealth

779Stamped with applause by stealth:

780And to its end directs each thing begun.

782Approach then, my monarch, of Troia the sacker, of Atreus the son!

783How ought I address thee, how ought I revere thee, — nor yet overhitting

784Nor yet underbending the grace that is fitting?

785Many of mortals hasten to honour the seeming-to-be —

786Passing by justice: and, with the ill-faring, to groan as he groans all are free.

787But no bite of the sorrow their liver has reached to:

788They say with the joyful, — one outside on each, too,

789As they force to a smile smileless faces.

790But whoever is good at distinguishing races

791In sheep of his flock — it is not for the eyes

792Of a man to escape such a shepherd’s surprise,

793As they seem, from a well-wishing mind,

794In watery friendship to fawn and be kind.

795Thou to me, then, indeed, sending an army for Helena’s sake,

796(I will not conceal it) wast — oh, by no help of the Muses! — depicted

797Not well of thy midriff the rudder directing. — convicted

798Of bringing a boldness they did not desire to the men with existence at stake.

799But now — from no outside of mind, nor unlovingly — gracious thou art

800To those who have ended the labour, fulfilling their part;

801And in time shalt thou know, by inquiry instructed,

802Who of citizens justly, and who not to purpose, the city conducted.

810First, indeed, Argos, and the gods, the local,

811’T is right addressing — those with me the partners

812In this return and right things done the city

813Of Priamos: gods who, from no tongue hearing

814The rights o’ the cause, for Ilion’s fate man-slaught’rous

815Into the bloody vase, not oscillating,

816Put the vote-pebbles, while, o’ the rival vessel,

817Hope rose up to the lip-edge: filled it was not.

818By smoke the captured city is still conspicuous:

819Até’s burnt offerings live: and, dying with them,

820The ash sends forth the fulsome blasts of riches.

821Of these things, to the gods grace many-mindful

822’T is right I render, since both nets outrageous

823We built them round with, and, for sake of woman,

824It did the city to dust — the Argeian monster,

825The horse’s nestling, the shield-bearing people

826That made a leap, at setting of the Pleiads,

827And, vaulting o’er the tower, the raw-flesh-feeding

828Lion licked up his fill of blood tyrannic.

829I to the gods indeed prolonged this preface;

830But — as for thy thought, I remember hearing —

831I say the same, and thou co-pleader hast me.

832Since few of men this faculty is born with —

833To honour, without grudge, their friend, successful.

834For moody, on the heart, a poison seated

835Its burthen doubles to who gained the sickness:

836By his own griefs he is himself made heavy,

837And out-of-door prosperity seeing groans at.

838Knowing, I’d call (for well have I experienced)

839Fellowship’s mirror, phantom of a shadow,

840Those seeming to be mighty gracious to me:

841While just Odusseus — he who sailed not willing —

842When joined on, was to me the ready trace-horse.

843This of him, whether dead or whether living,

844I say. For other city-and-gods’ concernment —

845Appointing common courts, in full assemblage

846We will consult. And as for what holds seemly —

847How it may lasting stay well, must be counselled:

848While what has need of medicines Paionian

849We, either burning or else cutting kindly,

850Will make endeavour to turn pain from sickness.

851And now into the domes and homes by altar

852Going, I to the gods first raise the right-hand —

853They who, far sending, back again have brought me.

854And Victory, since she followed, fixed remain she!

855Men, citizens, Argeians here, my worships!

856I shall not shame me, consort-loving manners

857To tell before you: for in time there dies off

858The diffidence from people. Not from others

859Learning, I of myself will tell the hard life

860I bore so long as this man was’neath Ilion.

861First: for a woman, from the male divided,

862To sit at home alone, is monstrous evil —

863Hearing the many rumours back-revenging:

864And for now This to come, now That bring after

865Woe, and still worse woe, bawling in the household!

866And truly, if so many wounds had chanced on

867My husband here, as homeward used to dribble

868Report, he’s pierced more than a net to speak of!

869While, were he dying (as the words abounded)

870A triple-bodied Geruon the Second,

871Plenty above — for loads below I count not —

872Of earth a three-share cloak he’d boast of taking,

873Once only dying in each several figure!

874Because of suchlike rumours back-revenging,

875Many the halters from my neck, above head,

876Others than I loosed — loosed from neck by main force!

877From this cause, sure, the boy stands not beside me —

878Possessor of our troth-plights, thine and mine too —

879As ought Orestes: be not thou astonished!

880For, him brings up our well-disposed guest-captive

881Strophios the Phokian — ills that told on both sides

882To me predicting — both of thee’neath Ilion

883The danger, and if anarchy’s mob-uproar

884Should overthrow thy council; since’t is born with

885Mortals, — whoe’er has fallen, the more to kick him.

886Such an excuse, I think, no cunning carries!

887As for myself — why, of my wails the rushing

888Fountains are dried up: not in them a drop more!

889And in my late-to-bed eyes I have damage,

890Bewailing what concerned thee, those torch-holdings

891For ever unattended to. In dreams — why,

892Beneath the light wing-beats o’ the gnat, I woke up

893As he went buzzing — sorrows that concerned thee

894Seeing, that filled more than their fellow-sleep-time.

895Now, all this having suffered, from soul grief-free

896I would style this man here the dog o’ the stables,

897The saviour forestay of the ship, the high roof’s

898Ground-prop, son sole-begotten to his father,

899— Ay, land appearing to the sailors past hope,

900Loveliest day to see after a tempest,

901To the wayfaring-one athirst a well-spring,

902— The joy, in short, of’scaping all that’s — fatal!

903I judge him worth addresses such as these are

904— Envy stand off! — for many those old evils

905We underwent. And now, to me — dear headship! —

906Dismount thou from this car, not earthward setting

907The foot of thine, O king, that’s Ilion’s spoiler!

908Slave-maids, why tarry? — whose the task allotted

909To strew the soil o’ the road with carpet-spreadings.

910Immediately be purple-strewn the pathway,

911So that to home unhoped may lead him — Justice!

912As for the rest, care shall — by no sleep conquered —

913Dispose things — justly (gods to aid!) appointed.

914Offspring of Leda, of my household warder,

915Suitably to my absence hast thou spoken,

916For long the speech thou didst outstretch! But aptly

917To praise — from others ought to go this favour.

918And for the rest, —-not me, in woman’s fashion,

919Mollify, nor — as mode of barbarous man is —

920To me gape forth a groundward-falling clamour!

921Nor, strewing it with garments, make my passage

922Envied! Gods, sure, with these behoves we honour:

923But, for a mortal on these varied beauties

924To walk — to me, indeed, is nowise fear-free.

925I say — as man, not god, to me do homage!

926Apart from foot-mats both and varied vestures,

927Renown is loud, and — not to lose one’s senses,

928God’s greatest gift. Behoves we him call happy

929Who has brought life to end in loved well-being.

930If all things I might manage thus — brave man, I!

931Come now, this say, nor feign a feeling to me!

932With feeling, know indeed, I do not tamper!

933Vowed’st thou to the gods, in fear, to act thus?

934If any, I well knew resolve I outspoke.

935What think’st thou Priamos had done, thus victor?

936On varied vests — I do think — he had passaged.

937Then, do not, struck with awe at human censure....

938Well, popular mob-outcry much avails too.

939Ay, but the unenvied is not the much valued.

940Sure,’t is no woman’s part to long for battle.

941Why, to the prosperous, even suits a beating.

942What? thou this beating us in war dost prize too?

943Persuade thee! power, for once, grant me — and willing!

944But if this seem so to thee — shoes, let someone

945Loose under, quick — foot’s serviceable carriage!

946And me, on these sea-products walking, may no

947Grudge from a distance, from the god’s eye, strike at!

948For great shame were my strewment-spoiling — riches

949Spoiling with feet, and silver-purchased textures!

950Of these things, thus then. But this female-stranger

951Tenderly take inside! Who conquers mildly

952God, from afar, benignantly regardeth.

953For, willing, no one wears a yoke that’s servile:

954And she, of many valuables, outpicked

955The flower, the army’s gift, myself has followed.

956So, — since to hear thee, I am brought about thus, —

957I go into the palace — purples treading.

958There is the sea — and what man shall exhaust it? —

959Feeding much purple’s worth-its-weight-in-silver

960Dye, ever fresh and fresh, our garments’ tincture;

961At home, such wealth, king, we begin — by gods’ help —

962With having, and to lack, the household knows not.

963Of many garments had I vowed a treading

964(In oracles if fore-enjoined the household)

965Of this dear soul the safe-return-price scheming!

966For, root existing, foliage goes up houses,

967O’erspreading shadow against Seirios dog-star;

968And, thou returning to the hearth domestic,

969Warmth, yea, in winter dost thou show returning.

970And when, too, Zeus works, from the green-grape acrid,

971Vine — then, already, cool in houses cometh —

972The perfect man his home perambulating!

973Zeus, Zeus Perfecter, these my prayers perfect thou!

974Thy care be — yea — of things thou mayst make perfect!

975Wherefore to me, this fear —

976Groundedly stationed here

977Fronting my heart, the portent-watcher — flits she?

978Wherefore should prophet-play

979The uncalled and unpaid lay,

980Nor — having spat forth fear, like bad dreams — sits she

981On the mind’s throne beloved — well-suasive Boldness?

982For time, since, by a throw of all the hands,

983The boat’s stern-cables touched the sands,

984Has past from youth to oldness, —

985When under Ilion rushed the ship-borne bands.

988And from my eyes I learn —

989Being myself my witness — their return.

990Yet, all the same, without a lyre, my soul,

991Itself its teacher too, chants from within

992Erinus’ dirge, not having now the whole

993Of Hope’s dear boldness: nor my inwards sin —

994The heart that’s rolled in whirls against the mind

995Justly presageful of a fate behind.

996But I pray — things false, from my hope, may fall

997Into the fate that’s not-fulfilled-at-all!

1001Especially at least, of health that’s great

1002The term’s insatiable: for, its weight

1003— A neighbour, with a common wall between —

1004Ever will sickness lean;

1005And destiny, her course pursuing straight,

1006Has struck man’s ship against a reef unseen.

1007Now, when a portion, rather than the treasure,

1008Fear casts from sling, with peril in right measure,

1009It has not sunk — the universal freight,

1010(With misery freighted over-full)

1011Nor has fear whelmed the hull.

1012Then too the gift of Zeus,

1013Two-handedly profuse,

1014Even from the furrows’ yield for yearly use

1015Has done away with famine, the disease;

1017But blood of man to earth once falling-deadly, black —

1018In times ere these, —

1019Who may, by singing spells, call back?

1020Zeus had not else stopped one who rightly knew

1021The way to bring the dead again.

1022But, did not an appointed Fate constrain

1023The Fate from gods, to bear no more than due,

1024My heart, outstripping what tongue utters,

1025Would have all out: which now, in darkness, mutters

1026Moodily grieved, nor ever hopes to find

1027How she a word in season may unwind

1028From out the enkindling mind.

1035Take thyself in, thou too — I say, Kassandra!

1036Since Zeus — not angrily—in household placed thee

1037Partaker of hand-sprinklings, with the many

1038Slaves stationed, his the Owner’s altar close to.

1039Descend from out this car, nor be high-minded

1040And truly they do say Alkmené’s child once

1041Bore being sold, slaves’ barley-bread his living.

1042If, then, necessity of this lot o’erbalance,

1043Much is the favour of old-wealthy masters:

1044For those who, never hoping, made fine harvest

1045Are harsh to slaves in all things, beyond measure.

1046Thou hast — with us — such usage as law warrants.

1047To thee it was, she paused plain speech from speaking.

1048Being inside the fatal nets — obeying,

1049Thou mayst obey: but thou mayst disobey too!

1050Why, if she is not, in the swallow’s fashion,

1051Possessed of voice that’s unknown and barbaric,

1052I, with speech — speaking in mind’s scope — persuade her.

1053Follow! The best — as things now stand — she speaks of.

1054Obey thou, leaving this thy car-enthronement!

1055Well, with this thing at door, for me no leisure

1056To waste time: as concerns the hearth mid-navelled,

1057Already stand the sheep for fireside slaying

1058By those who never hoped to have such favour.

1059If thou, then, aught of this wilt do, delay not!

1060But if thou, being witless, tak’st no word in,

1061Speak thou, instead of voice, with hand as Kars do!

1062She seems a plain interpreter in need of,

1063The stranger! and her way — a beast’s new-captured!

1064Why, she is mad, sure, — hears her own bad senses, —

1065Who, while she comes, leaving a town new-captured,

1066Yet knows not how to bear the bit o’ the bridle

1067Before she has out-frothed her bloody fierceness.

1068Not I — throwing away more words — will shamed be!

1069But I, — for I compassionate, — will chafe not.

1070Come, O unhappy one, this car vacating,

1071Yielding to this necessity, prove yoke’s use!

1072Otototoi, Gods, Earth, —

1073Apollon, Apollon!

1074Why didst thou ototoi concerning Loxias?

1075Since he is none such as to suit a mourner.

1076Otototoi, Gods, Earth, —

1077Apollon, Apollon!

1078Ill-boding here again the god invokes she

1079— Nowise empowered in woes to stand by helpful.

1080Apollon, Apollon,

1081Guard of the ways, my destroyer!

1082For thou hast quite, this second time, destroyed me.

1083To prophesy she seems of her own evils:

1084Remains the god-gift to the slave-soul present.

1085Apollon, Apollon,

1086Guard of the ways, my destroyer!

1087Ha, whither hast thou led me? to what roof now?

1088To the Atreidai’s roof: if this thou know’st not,

1089I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood.

1090How! How!

1090aGod-hated, then! Of many a crime it knew —

1091Self-slaying evils, halters too:

1092Man’s-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground!

1093She seems to be good-nosed, the stranger: dog-like,

1094She snuffs indeed the victims she will find there.

1095aHow! How!

1095By the witnesses here I am certain now!

1096These children bewailing their slaughters — flesh dressed in the fire

1097And devoured by their sire!

1098Ay, we have heard of thy soothsaying glory,

1099Doubtless: but prophets none are we in scent of!

1100Ah, gods, what ever does she meditate?

1100aWhat this new anguish great?

1101Great in the house here she meditates ill

1102Such as friends cannot bear, cannot cure it: and still

1103Off stands all Resistance

1104Afar in the distance!

1105Of these I witless am — these prophesyings.

1106But those I knew: for the whole city bruits them.

1107Ah, unhappy one, this thou consummatest?

1107aThy husband, thy bed’s common guest,

1108In the bath having brightened... How shall I declare

1109Consummation? It soon will be there:

1110For hand after hand she outstretches,

1111At life as she reaches!

1112Nor yet I’ve gone with thee! for — after riddles —

1113Now, in blind oracles, I feel resourceless.

1114Eh, eh, papai, papai,

1114aWhat this, I espy?

1115Some net of Haides undoubtedly

1116Nay, rather, the snare

1116aIs she who has share

1116bIn his bed, who takes part in the murder there!

1117But may a revolt —

1117aUnceasing assault —

1117bOn the Race, raise a shout

1118Sacrificial, about

1118aA victim — by stoning —

1118bFor murder atoning!

1119What this Erinus which i’ the house thou callest

1120To raise her cry? Not me thy word enlightens!

1121To my heart has run

1122A drop of the crocus-dye:

1122aWhich makes for those

1123On earth by the spear that lie,

1123aA common close

1123bWith life’s descending sun.

1124Swift is the curse begun!

1125How! How!

1125aSee — see quick!

1125bKeep the bull from the cow!

1126In the vesture she catching him, strikes him now

1127With the black-horned trick,

1128And he falls in the watery vase!

1129Of the craft-killing cauldron I tell thee the case!

1130I would not boast to be a topping critic

1131Of oracles: but to some sort of evil

1132I liken these. From oracles, what good speech

1133To mortals, beside, is sent?

1134It comes of their evils: these arts word-abounding that sing the event

1135Bring the fear’t is their office to teach.

1136Ah me, ah me —

1136aOf me unhappy, evil-destined fortunes!

1137For I bewail my proper woe

1137aAs, mine with his, all into one I throw.

1138Why hast thou hither me unhappy brought?

1139— Unless that I should die with him — for nought!

1139aWhat else was sought?

1140Thou art some mind-mazed creature, god-possessed:

1141And all about thyself dost wail

1142A lay — no lay!

1142aLike some brown nightingale

1143Insatiable of noise, who — well-away! —

1144From her unhappy breast

1144aKeeps moaning Itus, Itus, and his life

1145With evils, flourishing on each side, rife.

1146Ah me, ah me,

1146aThe fate o’ the nightingale, the clear resounder!

1147For a body wing-borne have the gods cast round her,

1148And sweet existence, from misfortunes free:

1149But for myself remains a sundering

1149aWith spear, the two-edged thing!

1150Whence hast thou this on-rushing god-involving pain

1150aAnd spasms in vain?

1151For, things that terrify,

1151aWith changing unintelligible cry

1152Thou strikest up in tune, yet all the while

1153After that Orthian style!

1154Whence hast thou limits to the oracular road,

1155That evils bode?

1156Ah me, the nuptials, the nuptials of Paris, the deadly to friends!

1157Ah me, of Skamandros the draught

1158Paternal! There once, to these ends,

1159On thy banks was I brought,

1160The unhappy! And now, by Kokutos and Acheron’s shore

1161I shall soon be, it seems, these my oracles singing once more!

1162Why this word, plain too much,

1163Hast thou uttered? A babe might learn of such!

1164I am struck with a bloody bite — here under —

1165At the fate woe-wreaking

1166Of thee shrill shrieking:

1166aTo me who hear — a wonder!

1167Ah me, the toils — the toils of the city

1167aThe wholly destroyed: ah, pity,

1168Of the sacrificings my father made

1168aIn the ramparts’ aid —

1169Much slaughter of grass-fed flocks — that afforded no cure

1170That the city should not, as it does now, the burthen endure!

1171But I, with the soul on fire,

1172Soon to the earth shall cast me and expire.

1173To things, on the former consequent,

1174Again hast thou given vent:

1175And’t is some evil-meaning fiend doth move thee,

1175aHeavily falling from above thee,

1176To melodize thy sorrows — else, in singing,

1176aCalamitous, death-bringing!

1177And of all this the end

1177aI am without resource to apprehend

1178Well then, the oracle from veils no longer

1179Shall be outlooking, like a bride new-married:

1180But bright it seems, against the sun’s uprisings

1181Breathing, to penetrate thee: so as, wave-like,

1182To wash against the rays a woe much greater

1183Than this. I will no longer teach by riddles.

1184And witness, running with me, that of evils

1185Done long ago, I nosing track the footstep!

1186For, this same roof here — never quits a Choros

1187One-voiced, not well-tuned since no well it utters:

1188And truly having drunk, to get more courage,

1189Man’s blood — the Komos keeps within the household

1190— Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies:

1191They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting —

1192The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth at

1193The Brother’s bed, to him who spurned it hostile.

1194Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman?

1195False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler?

1196Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not

1197By other’s word the old sins of this household!

1198And how should oath, bond honourably binding,

1199Become thy cure? No less I wonder at thee

1200— That thou, beyond sea reared, a strange-tongued city

1201Shouldst hit in speaking, just as if thou stood’st by!

1202Prophet Apollon put me in this office.

1203What, even though a god, with longing smitten?

1204At first, indeed, shame was to me to say this.

1205For, more relaxed grows everyone who fares well.

1206But he was athlete to me — huge grace breathing!

1207Well, to the work of children, went ye law’s way?

1208Having consented, I played false to Loxias.

1209Already when the wits inspired possessed of?

1210Already townsmen all their woes I foretold.

1211How wast thou then unhurt by Loxias’ anger?

1212I no one aught persuaded, when I sinned thus.

1213To us, at least, now sooth to say thou seemest.

1214Halloo, halloo, ah, evils!

1215Again, straightforward foresight’s fearful labour

1216Whirls me, distracting with prelusive last-lays!

1217Behold ye those there, in the household seated, —

1218Young ones, — of dreams approaching to the figures?

1219Children, as if they died by their beloveds —

1220Hands they have filled with flesh, the meal domestic —

1221Entrails and vitals both, most piteous burthen,

1222Plain they are holding! — which their father tasted!

1223For this, I say, plans punishment a certain

1224Lion ignoble, on the bed that wallows,

1225House-guard (ah, me!) to the returning master

1226— Mine, since to bear the slavish yoke behoves me!

1227The ship’s commander, Ilion’s desolator,

1228Knows not what things the tongue of the lewd she-dog

1229Speaking, outspreading, shiny-souled, in fashion

1230Of Até hid, will reach to, by ill fortune!

1231Such things she dares — the female, the male’s slayer!

1232She is... how calling her the hateful bite-beast

1233May I hit the mark? Some amphisbaina, — Skulla

1234Housing in rocks, of mariners the mischief,

1235Revelling Haides’ mother, — curse, no truce with,

1236Breathing at friends! How piously she shouted,

1237The all-courageous, as at turn of battle!

1238She seems to joy at the back-bringing safety!

1239Of this, too, if I nought persuade, all’s one! Why?

1240What is to be will come. And soon thou, present,

1241True prophet all too much wilt pitying style me.

1242Thuestes’ feast, indeed, on flesh of children,

1243I went with, and I shuddered. Fear too holds me

1244Listing what’s true as life, nowise out-imaged.

1245I say, thou Agamemnon’s fate shalt look on.

1246Speak good words, O unhappy! Set mouth sleeping!

1247But Paian stands in no stead to the speech here.

1248Nay, if the thing be near: but never be it!

1249Thou, indeed, prayest: they to kill are busy.

1250Of what man is it ministered, this sorrow?

1251There again, wide thou look’st of my foretellings.

1252For, the fulfiller’s scheme I have not gone with.

1253And yet too well I know the speech Hellenic.

1254For Puthian oracles, thy speech, and hard too.

1255Papai: what fire this! and it comes upon me!

1256Ototoi, Lukeion Apollon, ah me — me!

1257She, the two-footed lioness that sleeps with

1258The wolf, in absence of the generous lion,

1259Kills me the unhappy one: and as a poison

1260Brewing, to put my price too in the anger,

1261She vows, against her mate this weapon whetting

1262To pay him back the bringing me, with slaughter.

1263Why keep I then these things to make me laughed at,

1264Both wands and, round my neck, oracular fillets?

1265Thee, at least, ere my own fate will I ruin:

1266Go, to perdition falling! Boons exchange we —

1267Some other Até in my stead make wealthy!

1268See there — himself, Apollon stripping from me

1269The oracular garment! having looked upon me

1270— Even in these adornments, laughed by friends at,

1271As good as foes, i’ the balance weighed: and vainly —

1272For, called crazed stroller, — as I had been gipsy,

1273Beggar, unhappy, starved to death, — I bore it.

1274And now the Prophet — prophet me undoing,

1275Has led away to these so deadly fortunes!

1276Instead of my sire’s altar, waits the hack-block

1277She struck with first warm bloody sacrificing!

1278Yet nowise unavenged of gods will death be:

1279For there shall come another, our avenger,

1280The mother-slaying scion, father’s doomsman:

1281Fugitive, wanderer, from this land an exile,

1282Back shall he come, — for friends, copestone these curses!

1283For there is sworn a great oath from the gods that

1284Him shall bring hither his fallen sire’s prostration.

1285Why make I then, like an indweller, moaning?

1286Since at the first I foresaw Ilion’s city

1287Suffering as it has suffered: and who took it,

1288Thus by the judgment of the gods are faring.

1289I go, will suffer, will submit to dying!

1290But, Haides’ gates — these same I call, I speak to,

1291And pray that on an opportune blow chancing,

1292Without a struggle, — blood the calm death bringing

1293In easy outflow, — I this eye may close up!

1295O much unhappy, but, again, much learned

1296Woman, long hast thou outstretched! But if truly

1297Thou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like to

1298A god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest?

1299There’s no avoidance, — strangers, no some time more!

1300He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged.

1301It comes, the day: I shall by flight gain little.

1302But know thou patient art from thy brave spirit!

1303Such things hears no one of the happy-fortuned.

1304But gloriously to die — for man is grace, sure.

1305Ah, sire, for thee and for thy noble children!

1306But what thing is it? What fear turns thee backwards?

1307Alas, alas!

1308Why this Alas! if’t is no spirit’s loathing?

1309Slaughter blood-dripping does the household smell of!

1310How else? This scent is of hearth-sacrifices.

1311Such kind of steam as from a tomb is proper!

1312No Surian honour to the House thou speak’st of!

1313But I will go, — even in the household wailing

1314My fate and Agamemnon’s. Life suffice me!

1315Ah, strangers!

1316I cry not ah — as bird at bush — through terror

1317Idly! to me, the dead this much bear witness:

1318When, for me — woman, there shall die a woman,

1319And, for a man ill-wived, a man shall perish!

1320This hospitality I ask as dying.

1321O sufferer, thee — thy foretold fate I pity.

1322Yet once for all, to speak a speech, I fain am:

1323No dirge, mine for myself! The sun I pray to,

1324Fronting his last light! — to my own avengers —

1325That from my hateful slayers they exact too

1326Pay for the dead slave — easy-managed hand’s work!

1331Alas for mortal matters! Happy-fortuned, —

1331aWhy, any shade would turn them: if unhappy,

1331bBy throws the wetting sponge has spoiled the picture!

1331cAnd more by much in mortals this I pity.

1331dThe being well-to-do —

1331eInsatiate a desire of this

1331fBorn with all mortals is,

1332Nor any is there who

1332aWell-being forces off, aroints

1332bFrom roofs whereat a finger points,

1333No more come in! exclaiming. This man, too,

1335To take the city of Priamos did the celestials give,

1337And, honoured by the god, he homeward comes;

1338But now if, of the former, he shall pay

1339The blood back, and, for those who ceased to live,

1340Dying, for deaths in turn new punishment he dooms—

1341Who, being mortal, would not pray

1341aWith an unmischievous

1342Daimon to have been born — who would not, hearing thus?

1343Ah me! I am struck — a right-aimed stroke within me!

1344Silence! Who is it shouts stroke — right-aimedly a wounded one?

1345Ah me! indeed again, — a second, struck by!

1346This work seems to me completed by this Ah me of the king’s;

1347But we somehow may together share in solid counsellings.

1348I, in the first place, my opinion tell you:

1349— To cite the townsmen, by help-cry, to house here.

1350To me, it seems we ought to fall upon them

1351At quickest — prove the fact by sword fresh-flowing!

1352And I, of such opinion the partaker,

1353Vote — to do something: not to wait — the main point!

1354’T is plain to see: for they prelude as though of

1355A tyranny the signs they gave the city.

1356For we waste time; while they, — this waiting’s glory

1357Treading to ground, — allow the hand no slumber.

1358I know not — chancing on some plan — to tell it:

1359’T is for the doer to plan of the deed also.

1360And I am such another: since I’m schemeless

1361How to raise up again by words — a dead man!

1362What, and, protracting life, shall we give way thus

1363To the disgracers of our home, these rulers?

1364Why,’t is unbearable: but to die is better:

1365For death than tyranny is the riper finish!

1366What, by the testifying Ah me of him,

1367Shall we prognosticate the man as perished?

1368We must quite know ere speak these things concerning:

1369For to conjecture and quite know are two things.

1370This same to praise I from all sides abound in —

1371Clearly to know — Atreides, what he’s doing!

1372Much having been before to purpose spoken,

1373The opposite to say I shall not shamed be:

1374For how should one, to enemies, — in semblance,

1375Friends, — enmity proposing, — sorrow’s net-frame

1376Enclose, a height superior to outleaping?

1377To me, indeed, this struggle of old — not mindless

1378Of an old victory — came: with time, I grant you!

1379I stand where I have struck, things once accomplished:

1380And so have done, — and this deny I shall not, —

1381As that his fate was nor to fly nor ward off.

1382A wrap-round with no outlet, as for fishes,

1383I fence about him — the rich woe of the garment:

1384I strike him twice, and in a double Ah-me!

1385He let his limbs go — there! And to him, fallen,

1386The third blow add I, giving — of Below-ground

1387Zeus, guardian of the dead — the votive favour.

1388Thus in the mind of him he rages, falling,

1389And blowing forth a brisk blood-spatter, strikes me

1390With the dark drop of slaughterous dew — rejoicing

1391No less than, at the god-given dewy-comfort,

1392The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx.

1393Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, —

1394Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice: but I — boast!

1395If it were fit on corpse to pour libation,

1396That would be right — right over and above, too!

1397The cup of evils in the house he, having

1398Filled with such curses, himself coming drinks of.

1399We wonder at thy tongue: since bold-mouthed truly

1400Is she who in such speech boasts o’er her husband I

1401Ye test me as I were a witless woman:

1402But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowers

1403Say (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me,

1404Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon,

1405My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,

1406Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.

1407What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred

1408Or sent from the flowing sea,

1408aOf such having fed

1409Didst thou set on thee

1409aThis sacrifice

1409bAnd popular cries

1410Of a curse on thy head?

1410aOff thou hast thrown him, off hast cut

1410bThe man from the city: but —

1410cOff from the city thyself shalt be

1411Cut — to the citizens

1411aA hate immense!

1412Now, indeed, thou adjudgest exile to me,

1413And citizens’ hate, and to have popular curses:

1414Nothing of this against the man here bringing,

1415Who, no more awe-checked than as’t were a beast’s fate, —

1416With sheep abundant in the well-fleeced graze-flocks, —

1417Sacrificed his child, — dearest fruit of travail

1418To me, — as song-spell against Threkian blowings.

1419Not him did it behove thee hence to banish

1420— Pollution’s penalty? But hearing mzy deeds

1421Justicer rough thou art! Now, this I tell thee:

1422To threaten thus — me, one prepared to have thee

1423(On like conditions, thy hand conquering) o’er me

1424Rule: but if God the opposite ordain us,

1425Thou shalt learn — late taught, certes — to be modest.

1426Greatly-intending thou art:

1426aMuch-mindful, too, hast thou cried

1427(Since thy mind, with its slaughter-outpouring part,

1428Is frantic) that over the eyes, a patch

1428aOf blood — with blood to match —

1428bIs plain for a pride!

1429Yet still, bereft of friends, thy fate

1430Is — blow with blow to expiate!

1431And this thou hearest — of my oaths, just warrant!

1432By who fulfilled things for my daughter, Justice,

1433Até, Erinus, — by whose help I slew him, —

1434Not mine the fancy — Fear will tread my palace

1435So long as on my hearth there burns a fire,

1436Aigisthos as before well-caring for me;

1437Since he to me is shield, no small, of boldness.

1438Here does he lie — outrager of this female,

1439Dainty of all the Chruseids under Ilion;

1440And she — the captive, the soothsayer also

1441And couchmate of this man, oracle-speaker,

1442Faithful bed-fellow, — ay, the sailors’ benches

1443They wore in common, nor unpunished did so,

1444Since he is — thus! While, as for her, — swan-fashion,

1445Her latest having chanted, — dying wailing

1446She lies, — to him, a sweetheart: me she brought to —

1447My bed’s by-nicety — the whet of dalliance.

1448Alas, that some

1448aFate would come

1448bUpon us in quickness —

1449Neither much sickness

1450Neither bed-keeping —

1451And bear unended sleeping,

1452Now that subdued

1452aIs our keeper, the kindest of mood!

1453Having borne, for a woman’s sake, much strife —

1454By a woman he withered from life!

1455Ah me!

1455aLaw-breaking Helena who, one,

1456Hast many, so many souls undone

1457’Neath Troia! and now the consummated

1458Much-memorable curse

1459Hast thou made flower-forth, red

1460With the blood no rains disperse,

1460aThat which was then in the House —

1461Strife all-subduing, the woe of a spouse.

1462Nowise, of death the fate —

1463Burdened by these things — supplicate!

1464Nor on Helena turn thy wrath

1465As the man-destroyer, as she who hath,

1465aBeing but one,

1466Many and many a soul undone

1466aOf the men, the Danaoi —

1467And wrought immense annoy!

1468Daimon, who fallest

1468aUpon this household and the double-raced

1469Tantalidai, a rule, minded like theirs displaced,

1470Thou rulest me with, now,

1471Whose heart thou gallest!

1472And on the body, like a hateful crow,

1473Stationed, all out of tune, his chant to chant

1474Doth Something vaunt!

1475Now, of a truth, hast thou set upright

1476Thy mouth’s opinion, —

1477Naming the Sprite,

1477aThe triply gross,

1477bO’er the race that has dominion:

1478For through him it is that Eros

1478aThe carnage-licker

1479In the belly is bred: ere ended quite

1480Is the elder throe — new ichor!

1481Certainly, great of might

1482And heavy of wrath, the Sprite

1483Thou tellest of, in the palace

1484(Woe, woe!)

1485— An evil tale of a fate

1486By Até’s malice

1487Rendered insatiate!

1489Oh, oh, —

1490King, king, how shall I beweep thee?

1491From friendly soul whatever say?

1492Thou liest where webs of the spider o’ersweep thee

1493In impious death, life breathing away.

1494O me — me!

1494aThis couch, not free.

1495By a slavish death subdued thou art,

1496From the hand, by the two-edged dart.

1497Thou boastest this deed to be mine:

1498But leave off styling me

1499The Agamemnonian wife!

1500For, showing himself in sign

1500aOf the spouse of the corpse thou dost see,

1501Did the ancient bitter avenging-ghost

1502Of Atreus, savage host,

1503Pay the man here as price —

1504A full-grown for the young one’s sacrifice.

1505That no cause, indeed, of this killing art thou,

1506Who shall be witness-bearer?

1507How shall he bear it — how?

1508But the sire’s avenging-ghost might be in the deed a sharer.

1509He is forced on and on

1510By the kin-born flowing of blood,

1511— Black Ares: to where, having gone,

1511aHe shall leave off, flowing done,

1512At the frozen-child’s-flesh food.

1513King, king, how shall I beweep thee?

1514From friendly soul whatever say?

1515Thou liest where webs of the spider o’ersweep thee

1516In impious death, life breathing away.

1517O me — me!

1518This couch, not free!

1519By a slavish death subdued thou art,

1520From the hand, by the two-edged dart.

1521No death unfit for the free

1522Do I think this man’s to be:

1523For did not himself a slavish curse

1524To his household decree?

1525But the scion of him, myself did nurse —

1526That much-bewailed Iphigeneia, he

1527Having done well by, — and as well, nor worse,

1528Been done to, — let him not in Haides loudly

1528aBear himself proudly!

1529Being by sword-destroying death amerced

1529aFor that sword’s punishment himself inflicted first.

1530I at a loss am left —

1531Of a feasible scheme of mind bereft —

1532Where I may turn: for the house is falling:

1533I fear the bloody crash of the rain

1533aThat ruins the roof as it bursts amain:

1534The warning-drop

1534aHas come to a stop.

1535Destiny doth Justice whet

1536For other deed of hurt, on other whetstones yet.

1537Woe, earth, earth — would thou hadst taken me

1538Ere I saw the man I see,

1539On the pallet-bed

1540Of the silver-sided bath-vase, dead!

1541Who is it shall bury him, who

1541aSing his dirge? Can it be true

1542That thou wilt dare this same to do —

1543Having slain thy husband, thine own,

1544To make his funeral moan:

1545And for the soul of him, in place

1546Of his mighty deeds, a graceless grace

1547To wickedly institute? By whom

1548Shall the tale of praise o’er the tomb

1549At the god-like man be sent —

1550From the truth of his mind as he toils intent?

1551It belongs not to thee to declare

1552This object of care!

1552aBy us did he fall — down there!

1553Did he die — down there! and down, no less,

1554We will bury him there, and not beneath

1554aThe wails of the household over his death:

1555But Iphigeneia, — with kindliness, —

1556His daughter, — as the case requires,

1557Facing him full, at the rapid-flowing

1558Passage of Groans shall — both hands throwing

1559Around him — kiss that kindest of sires!

1560This blame comes in the place of blame:

1561Hard battle it is to judge each claim.

1562He is borne away who bears away:

1562aAnd the killer has all to pay.

1563And this remains while Zeus is remaining,

1564The doer shall suffer in time — for, such his ordaining.

1565Who may cast out of the House its cursed brood?

1566The race is to Até glued!

1567Thou hast gone into this oracle

1568With a true result. For me, then, — I will

1569— To the Daimon of the Pleisthenidai

1570Making an oath — with all these things comply

1571Hard as they are to bear. For the rest —

1572Going from out this House, a guest,

1572aMay he wear some other family

1573To nought, with the deaths of kin by kin!

1574And, — keeping a little part of my goods, —

1574aWholly am I contented in

1574bHaving expelled from the royal House

1575These frenzied moods

1576The mutually-murderous.

1577O light propitious of day justice-bringing!

1578I may say truly, now, that men’s avengers,

1579The gods from high, of earth behold the sorrows —

1580Seeing, as I have, i’ the spun robes of the Erinues,

1581This man here lying, — sight to me how pleasant! —

1582His father’s hands’ contrivances repaying.

1583For Atreus, this land’s lord, of this man father,

1584Thuestes, my own father — to speak clearly —

1585His brother too, — being i’ the rule contested, —

1586Drove forth to exile from both town and household:

1587And, coming back, to the hearth turned, a suppliant,

1588Wretched Thuestes found the fate assured him

1589— Not to die, bloodying his paternal threshold

1590Just there: but host-wise this man’s impious father

1591Atreus, soul-keenly more than kindly, — seeming

1592To joyous hold a flesh-day, — to my father

1593Served up a meal, the flesh of his own children.

1594The feet indeed and the hands’ top divisions

1595He hid, high up and isolated sitting:

1596But, their unshowing parts in ignorance taking,

1597He forthwith eats food — as thou seest — perdition

1598To the race: and then,’ware of the deed ill-omened,

1599He shrieked O! — falls back, vomiting, from the carnage,

1600And fate on the Pelopidai past bearing

1601He prays down — putting in his curse together

1601aThe kicking down o’ the feast — that so might perish

1602The race of Pleisthenes entire: and thence is

1603That it is given thee to see this man prostrate.

1604And I was rightly of this slaughter stitch-man:

1605Since me, — being third from ten, — with my poor father

1606He drives out — being then a babe in swathe-bands:

1607But, grown up, back again has justice brought me:

1608And of this man I got hold — being without-doors —

1609Fitting together the whole scheme of ill-will.

1610So, sweet, in fine, even to die were to me,

1611Seeing, as I have, this man i’ the toils of justice!

1612Aigisthos, arrogance in ills I love not.

1613Dost thou say — willing, thou didst kill the man here,

1614And, alone, plot this lamentable slaughter?

1615I say — thy head in justice will escape not

1616The people’s throwing — know that! — stones and curses!

1617Thou such things soundest — seated at the lower

1618Oarage to those who rule at the ship’s mid-bench?

1619Thou shalt know, being old, how heavy is teaching

1620To one of the like age — bidden be modest!

1621But chains and old age and the pangs of fasting

1622Stand out before all else in teaching, — prophets

1623At souls’-cure! Dost not, seeing aught, see this too?

1624Against goads kick not, lest tript-up thou suffer!

1625Woman, thou, — of him coming new from battle

1626Houseguard — thy husband’s bed the while disgracing, —

1627For the Army-leader didst thou plan this fate too?

1628These words too are of groans the prime-begetters!

1629Truly a tongue opposed to Orpheus hast thou:

1630For he led all things by his voice’s grace-charm,

1631But thou, upstirring them by these wild yelpings,

1632Wilt lead them! Forced, thou wilt appear the tamer!

1633So — thou shalt be my king then of the Argeians —

1634Who, not when for this man his fate thou plannedst,

1635Daredst to do this deed — thyself the slayer!

1636For, to deceive him was the wife’s part, certes:

1637I was looked after — foe, ay, old-begotten!

1638But out of this man’s wealth will I endeavour

1639To rule the citizens: and the no-man-minder

1640— Him will I heavily yoke — by no means trace-horse,

1641A corned-up colt! but that bad friend in darkness,

1642Famine its housemate, shall behold him gentle.

1643Why then, this man here, from a coward spirit,

1644Didst not thou slay thyself? But, — helped, — a woman,

1645The country’s pest, and that of gods o’ the country,

1646Killed him! Orestes, where may he see light now?

1647That coming hither back, with gracious fortune,

1648Of both these he may be the all-conquering slayer?

1649But since this to do thou thinkest — and not talk — thou soon shalt know!

1650Up then, comrades dear! the proper thing to do—not distant this!

1651Up then! hilt in hold, his sword let everyone aright dispose!

1652Ay, but I myself too, hilt in hold, do not refuse to die.

1653Thou wilt die, thou say’st, to who accept it. We the chance demand.

1654Nowise, O belovedest of men, may we do other ills!

1655To have reaped away these, even, is a harvest much to me.

1656Go, both thou and these the old men, to the homes appointed each,

1657Ere ye suffer! It behoved one do these things just as we did:

1658And if of these troubles there should be enough — we may assent

1659— By the Daimon’s heavy heel unfortunately stricken ones!

1660So a woman’s counsel hath it — if one judge it learning-worth.

1662But to think that these at me the idle tongue should thus o’erbloom,

1663And throw out such words — the Daimon’s power experimenting on —

1664And, of modest knowledge missing, — me, the ruler,...

1665Ne’er may this befall Argeians — wicked man to fawn before!

1666Anyhow, in after days, will I, yes, I, be at thee yet!

1667Not if hither should the Daimon make Orestes straightway come!

1668O, I know, myself, that fugitives on hopes are pasture-fed!

1669Do thy deed, get fat, defiling justice, since the power is thine!

1670Know that thou shalt give me satisfaction for this folly’s sake!

1671Boast on, bearing thee audacious, like a cock his females by!

1672Have not thou respect for these same idle yelpings! I and thou

1673Will arrange it, o’er this household ruling excellently well.