Agamemnon

IN this tragedy the reader will find the ſtrongest traces of the genius of Æschylus, and the moſt diſtinguiſhing proofs of his ſkill. Great in his conceptions, bold and daring in his metaphors, ſtrong in his pafſions, he here touches the heart with uncommon emotions. The odes are particularly ſublime, and the oracular ſpirit, that breathes through them, adds a wonderful elevation and dignity to them. Short as the part of Agamemnon is, the poet has the addreſs to throw ſuch an amiable dignity around him, that we ſoon become intereſted in his favour, and are prædiſpoſed to lament his fate. The character of Clytemneſtra is finely marked; an highſpirited, artful, cloſe, determined, dangerous woman. But the poet has no where exerted ſuch efforts of his genius, as in the ſcene where Caſſandra appears: As a propheteſs, ſhe gives every mark of the divine inſpiration, from the dark and diſtant hint, through all the noble imagery of the prophetic enthuſiaſm; till, as the catastrophe advances, the more and more plainly declares it: As a ſuffering princeſs, her grief is plaintive, lively, and piercing; yet ſhe goes to meet her death, which ſhe clearly foretells, with a firmneſs worthy the daughter of Priam and the ſiſter of Hector: Nothing can be more animated or more intereſting than this ſcene. The conduct of the poet through this play is exquifitely judicious; every ſcene gives us ſome obſcure hint, or ominous preſage, enough to keep our attention always raiſed, and and to prepare us for the event; even the ſtudied caution of Clytemnestra is finely managed to produce that effect; whilſt the ſecreſy, with which ſhe conducts her deſign, keeps us in ſuſpenſe, and prevents a diſcovery, till we hear the dying groans of her murdered husband. It is to be lamented that a late amiable poet, in his tragedy on this ſubject, which too he wiſhed to have eſteemed as claſſical, ſhould have deviated ſo far from his great original, particularly in the character of Clytemneſtra: but as he wanted ſtrength of genius to imitate the noble ſimplicity of Æschylus, his taſte led him to take Seneca for his model; and he has ſucceeded accordingly. The ſcene of this play is at Argos, before the palace of Agamemnon.

Perſons of the Drama. WATCHΜΑΝ.CLYTEMNESTRA.HERALD.AGAMEΜΝΟΝ.CASSANDRA.ÆGISTHUS.CHORUS of ARGIVE SENATORS.

AGAMEMNON. The WATCHMAN. YE fav’ring Gods, relieve me from this toil: Fix’d, as a dog, on Agamemnon’s roof I watch the live-long year, obſerving hence The AGAMEMNON. The hoſt of ſtars, that in the ſpangled ſkies Take their bright ſtations, and to mortals bring Winter and ſummer; radiant rulers, when They ſet, or riſing glitter thro’ the night. Here now I watch, if haply I may ſee The blazing torch, whoſe flame brings news from Troy, The ſignal of its ruin: these high hopes My royal miſtreſs, thinking on her lorda, Feeds in her heart. Meanwhile the dews of night Fall on my couch, unviſited by dreams; For fear, leſt ſleep ſhou’d cloſe my eyes, repels The ſoft intruder. AGAMEMNON. When my ſpirits prompt me To raiſe the ſong, or hum the ſullen notes Preventing ſlumber, then I ſigh, and wail The ſtate of this unhappy houſe, no more Well-order’d as of old. But may my toils Be happily reliev’d! Blaze, thou bright flame, Herald of joy, blaze thro’ the gloomy ſſhades.— And it does blaze.—Hail, thou auſpicious flame, That ſtreaming thro’ the night denounceſt joy, Welcom’d with many a feſtal dance in Argos! In the queen’s ear I’ll holla this, and rouſe her From her ſoft couch with ſpeed, that ſhe may teach The royal dome to echo with the ſtrains Of choral warblings greeting this bleſt fire, Bright ſign that Troy is taken. Nor ſhall I Forbear the prelude to the dance before her: For by this watch, ſo proſperouſly concluded, I to my maſters ſhall aſſure good fortune. AGAMEMNON. Shall I then ſee my king return’d, once more To grace this houſe? and ſhall this hand once more Hang on his friendly hand? — I cou’d unfold A tale. But, huſh; my tongue is chain’d: these walls, Cou’d they but ſpeak, wou’d make diſcoveries. There are who know this; and to them this hint Were plain: to those, that know it not, myſterious. CHORUS. The tenth ſlow year rolls on, ſince great in arms The noble ſons of Atreus, each exalted To majeſty and empire, royal brothers, Led hence a thouſand ſhips, the Argive fleet, Big with the fate of Priam and of Troy; A warlike preparation; their bold breaſts Breathing heroic ardor to high deeds; Like vultures, which their unplumed offspring loſtd, AGAMEMNON. Whirl many’ a rapid flight, for that their toil To guard their young was vain : 'till ſome high pow’r, For they are dear to Phœbus, dear to Pan, And Jove, with pity hears their ſhrill-voic’d grief, And ſends, tho’ late, the fury to avenge Their plunder’d neſts on the unpitying ſpoilers. So now the pow’r of hoſpitable Jovee Arms againſt Paris, for th’ oft-wedded damef, The ſons of Atreus, bent to plunge the hoſts Of Greece and Troy in all the toils, that ſink The body down, the firm knee bow’d in duſt, And the ſtrong ſpear, e’er conqueſt crowns their helms, Shiver’d in battle. Theſe are what they are, And Fate directs th’ event: nor the bent knee, Libation pure, or ſupplicating tear, Can ſooth the ſtern rage of those merciless pow’rs In whoſe cold ſhrine no hallow’d flame aſcendsg. AGAMEMNON. But we, our age-enfeebled limbs unfit, For martial toils, inglorious here remain, The ſtaff ſupporting our weak ſteps, like children: For as the infant years have not attain’d The military vigor, wither’d age Crawls thro’ the ſtreets like helpless infancy, And paſſes as a day-dream. —But what tidings, What circumſtances of fair event hath reach’d Thy royal ears, daughter of Tyndarus, Inducing thee to ſend the victims round? The ſhrines of all the Gods, whoſe guardian cares Watch o’er this ſtate, be they enthron’d in Heav’n, Or rule beneath the Earth, blaze with thy preſents; And from th’ imperial dome a length’ned line Of torches ſhoot their luſtre to the ſkies. O tell me what is fit for me to know, And prudence ſuffers to be told: ſpeak peace To this anxiety, which one while ſwells Preſaging ill, and one while from the victims Catches a gleam of hope, whoſe chearing ray Breaks thro’ the gloom that darkens o’er my ſoul. AGAMEMNON. STROРНЕ. It ſwells upon my ſoul; I feel the pow’r To hail th’ auſpicious hour, When, their brave hoſts marching in firm array, The heroes led the way. The fire of youth glows in each vein, And heav’n-born confidence inſpires the ſtrain. Pleas’d the omen to record, That to Troy’s ill-fated ſtrand AGAMEMNON. Led each monarch, mighty lord, Led the bold confederate band, The ſtrong ſpear quiv’ring in their vengeful hand. Full in each royal chieftain’s view, A royal eagle whirls his flight; In plumage one of duſky hue, And one his dark wings edg’d with white; Swift to th’ imperial manſion take their way, And in their armed talons bear, Seiz’d in its flight, a pregnant hare, And in those ſplendid ſeats enjoy their prey. Sound high the ſtrain, the ſwelling notes prolong, Till conqueſt liſtens to the raptur’d ſong. ANTISTROPHE. The venerable ſeer, whoſe ſkill divinei Knows what the Fates deſign, On AGAMEMNON. On each bold chief, that for the battle burns, His glowing eye-ball turns; And thus in high prophetic ſtrains The rav’ning eagles and their prey explains : “Priam’s haughty town ſhall fall, “Slow they roll, the deſtin’d hours, “Fate and fury ſſhake her wall, “Vengeance wide the ruin pours, “And conqueſt ſeizes all her treaſur’d ſtores. “Ah, may no ſtorm from th’ angry ſky “Burſt dreadful o’er this martial train, “Nor check their ardor, flaming high “To pour the war o’er Troy’s proud plain! “Wrath kindles in the chaſte Diana’s breaſt: AGAMEMNON. “Gorg’d with the pregnant mother’s blood, “And, e’er the birth, her hapleſs brood, “Hell-hounds of Jove, ſhe hates your horrid feaſt. “Sound high the ſtrain, the ſwelling notes prolong, “Till conqueſt liſtens to the raptur’d ſong. EPODE. “The virgin Goddeſs of the chace, “Fair from the ſpangled dew-drops that adorn “The breathing flowrets of the morn, “Protectreſs of the infant race “Of all that haunt the tangled grove, “Or o’er the rugged mountains rove, “She, beauteous queen, commands me to declare “What by the royal birds is ſhown, “Signal of conqueſt, omen fair, “But darken’d by her aweful frown. “God of the diſtant-wounding bow, “Thee, Pæan, thee I call; hear us, and aid; “Ah, AGAMEMNON. “Ah, may not the offended maid “Give the ſullen gales to blow, “Adverſe to this eager train, “And bar th’ unnavigable main: “Nor other ſacrifice demand, “At whoſe barbaric rites no feaſt is ſpread; “But diſcord rears her horrid head, “And calls around her murd’rous band: “Leagued with hate, and fraud, and fear, “Nor king, nor husband they revere; “Indignant o’er a daughter weep, “And burn to ſtamp their vengeance deep.” Prophetic thus the reverend Chalcas ſpoke, Marking th’ imperial eagles’ whirling wings; From his rapt lips the joyful preſage broke, Succeſs and glory to th’ embattled kings. AGAMEMNON. Sound high the ſtrain, th’ according notes prolong, Till conqueſt liſtens to the raptur’d ſong. STROРНЕ I. O thoun, that ſit’ſt ſupreme above, Whatever name thou deign’ſt to hear, Unblam’d may I pronounce thee Jove! Immers’d in deep and holy thought, If rightly I conjecture ought, Thy pow’r I muſt revere : Elſe vainly toſt the anxious mind Nor truth, nor calm repoſe can find. AGAMEMNON. Feeble and helpleſs to the light The proudeſt of man’s race aroſe, Tho’ now, exulting in his might, Dauntleſs he ruſhes on his foes; Great as he is, in duſt he lies; He meets a greater, and he dies. ANTISTROPHE 1. He that, when conqueſt brightens roundo, Swells the triumphal ſtrain to Jove, Shall ever with ſucceſs be crown’d. Yet often, when to wiſdom’s ſeat Jove deigns to guide man’s erring feet, His virtues to improve; He to affliction gives command To form him with her chaſt’ning hand: The memory of her rigid lore, On the ſad heart imprinted deep, Attends him thro’ day’s active hour, Nor in the night forſakes his ſleep. AGAMEMNON. Inſtructed thus thy grace we own, O thou, that ſit’ſt on Heav’n’s high throne! STROРНЕ 2. When now in Aulis’ rolling bay His courſe the refluent floods refus’d, And ſick’ning with inaction lay In dead repoſe th’ exhauſted train, Did the firm chief of chance complain? No prophet he accus’d; His eyes towards Chalcis bent he stood, And ſilent mark’d the ſurging flood. AGAMEMNON. Sullen the winds from Strymon ſweep, Miſchance and famine in the blaſt, Ceaſeleſs torment the angry deep, The cordage rend, the veſſels waſte, With tedious and ſevere delay Wear the freſh flow’r of Greece away. ANTISTROPHE 2. When, in Diana’s name, the ſeer. Pronounc’d the dreadful remedy More than the ſtormy ſea ſevere, Each chieftain ſtood in grief profound, And ſmote his ſceptre on the ground: Then with a riſing ſigh The monarch, whilſt the big tears roll, Expreſs’d the anguſh of his ſoul; AGAMEMNON. “Dreadful the ſentence: not t’ obey, “Vengeance and ruin cloſe us round: “Shall then the fire his daughter ſlay, “In youth’s freſh bloom with beauty crown’d? “Shall on these hands her warm blood flow? “Cruel alternative of woe! STROРНЕ 3. “This royal fleet, this martial hoſt, “The cauſe of Greece, ſhall I betray, “The monarch in the father loſt? “To calm these winds, to ſmooth this flood, “Diana’s wrath a virgin’s bloodr “Demands: 'tis our’s t’ obey.” AGAMEMNON. Bound in neceſſity’s iron chain Reluctant nature ſtrives in vain : Impure, unholy thoughts ſucceed, And dark’ning o’er his boſom roll; Whilſt madneſs prompts the ruthleſs deed, Tyrant of the miſguided ſoul: Stern on the fleet he rolls his eyes, And dooms the hateful ſacrifice. ANTISTROPHE 3. Arm’d in a woman’s cauſe, around Fierce for the war the princes roſe; No place affrighted pity found. In vain the virgin’s ſtreaming tear, Her cries in vain, her pleading pray’r, Her agonizing woes. AGAMEMNON. Cou’d the fond father hear unmov’d? The Fates decreed: the king approv’d: Then to th’ attendants gave command Decent her flowing robes to bind; Prone on the altar with ſtrong hand To place her, like a ſpotleſs hind; And check her ſweet voice, that no ſound Unhallow’d might the rites confound, EPODE. Rent on the earth her maiden veil ſhe throws That emulates the roſe; And on the ſad attendants rolling The trembling luſtre of her dewy eyes, Their grief-empaſſion’d ſouls controlling, That ennobled, modeſt grace, AGAMEMNON. Which the mimic pencil tries In the imag’d form to trace, The breathing picture ſhows: And as, amidſt his feſtal pleaſures, Her father oft rejoic’d to hear Her voice in ſoft mellifluous meaſures Warble the ſprightly-fanſied air; So now in act to ſpeak the virgin ſtands: But when, the third libation paid, She heard her father’s dread commands Injoining ſilence, ſhe obeyed: And for her country’s good, With patient, meek, ſubmiſſive mind To her hard fate reſign’d, Pour’d out the rich ſſtream of her blood. What ſince hath paſt I know not, nor relateu; But never did the prophet ſpeak in vain, Th’ afflicted, anxious for his future fate, Looks forward, and with hope relieves his pain. AGAMEMNON. But ſince th’ inevitable ill will come, Much knowledge to much miſery is allied; Why ſtrive we then t’ anticipate the doom, Which happineſs and wiſdom wiſh to hide ? Yet let this careful, age-enfeebled band Breath from our inmoſt ſoul one ardent vow, Now the ſole guardians of this Apian land, “May fair ſucceſs with glory bind her brow!” CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS. CHORUS. With reverence, Clytemneſtra, I approach Thy greatneſs; honour due to her that fills The royal ſeat, yet vacant of its lord. If ought of glad import hath reach’d thy ear, Or to fair hope the victim bleeds, I wiſh, But with ſubmiſſion to thy will, to hear. AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA. The joy-importing morn ſprings, as they ſay, From night, her mother. Thou ſhalt hear a joy Beyond thy hopes to hear: The town of Priam Is fall’n beneath the conquering arms of Greece. CHORUS. What ſaid’ſt thou ? Paſſing credence fled thy word. CLYTEMNESTRA. In Troy Greece triumphs. Speak I clearly now? CHORUS. Joy ſteals upon me, and calls forth the tear. CLYTEMNESTRA. Thy gliſt’ning eye beſpeaks an honest heart. CHORUS. Does ought of certain proof confirm these tidings? CLYTEMNESTRA. It does: Why not? Unleſs the Gods deceive us. CHORUS. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Perchance the viſions of perfuaſive dreams. CLYTEMNESTRA. Sport of the ſlumb’ring ſoul; they move not me. CHORUS. Hath then ſome winged rumour ſpread these tranſports? CLYTEMNESTRA. As a raw girl’s, thou hold’ſt my judgment cheap. CHORUS. How long hath ruin cruſh’d this haughty city? CLYTEMNESTRA. This night, that gave this infant morning birth. CHORUS. What ſpeed cou’d be the herald of this news? CLYTEMNESTRA. The fire, that from the height of Ida ſent Its ſtreaming light, as from th’ announcing flame Torch blaz’d to torch. Firſt Ida to the ſteep Of Lemnos; Athos’ ſacred height receiv’d The mighty ſplendor; AGAMEMNON. from the ſurging back Of th’ Helleſpont the vig’rous blaze held on Its ſmiling way, and like the orient ſun Illumes with golden-gleaming rays the head Of rocky Macetas; nor lingers there, Nor winks unheedful, but its warning flames Darts to the ſtreams of Euripus, and gives Its glitt’ring ſignal to the guards that hold Their high watch on Meſapius. These enkindle The joy-denouncing fires, that ſpread the blaze To where Erica hoar its ſhaggy brow Waves rudely. Unimpair’d the active flame Bounds o’er the level of Aſopus, like The jocund Moon, and on Cithæron’s ſteep Wakes a ſucceſſive flame; the diſtant watch Agnize its ſhine, and raiſe a brighter fire, That o’er the lake Gorgopis ſſtreaming holds Its rapid courſe, and on the mountainous heights Of Ægiplanctus huge, ſwift-ſhooting ſpreads The lengthen’d line of light. Thence onwards waves Its firey treſſes, eager to aſcend The crags of Prone, frowning in their pride O’er the Saronic gulf: AGAMEMNON. it leaps, it mounts The ſummit of Arachne, whoſe high head Looks down on Argos: to this royal ſeat Thence darts the light that from th’ Idæan fire Derives its birth. Rightly in order thus Each to the next conſigns the torch, and fills The bright ſucceſſion, whilſt the firſt in ſpeed Vies with the laſt: the promis’d ſignal this Giv’n by my lord t’ announce the fall of Troy. CHORUS. Anon my grateful praiſe ſhall riſe to Heav’n: Now, lady, wou’d I willingly attend Thro’ each glad circumſtance the wond’rous tale. CLYTEMNESTRA. This day the conquering Greeks are lords of Troy. Methinks I hear the various clamours riſe Diſcordant through the city. Pour thou oil In the ſame vaſe and vinegar, in vain Wou’dſt thou perſuade th’ unſocial ſtreams to mix: The captives’ and the conqueror’s voice diſtinct, Marks AGAMEMNON. Marks of their different fortune, may’ſt thou hear: Those rolling on the bodies of the ſlain, Friends, husbands, brothers, fathers; the weak arms Of children claſp’d around the bleeding limbs Of hoary age, lament their fall, their necks Bent to the yoke of ſlavery: Eager these From the fierce toils of war, who thro’ the gloom Of night rang’d wide, fly on the ſpoils, as chance Not order, leads them; in the Trojan houſes, Won by their ſpears, they walk at large, reliev’d From the cold dews dropt from th’ unſhelter’d ſky; And at th’ approach of eve, like those whoſe pow’r Commands ſecurity, the eaſy night Shall ſleep unguarded. If with hallow’d rites They venerate the Gods that o’er the cityy, With those that o’er the vanquish’d country rule, And reverence their ſhrines, the conquering troops Shall not be conquer’d. May no baſe deſire, No guilty wiſh urge them, enthrall’d to gain, To break thro’ ſacred laws. AGAMEMNON. Behoves them now, With ſafety in their train, backward to plow The refluent wave. Shou’d they return expos’d To th’ anger of the Gods, vengeance wou’d wake To ſeize its prey, might they perchance eſcape Life’s incidental ills. From me thou heareſt A woman’s ſentiment; and much I wiſh, Their glories by no rude miſchance depreſs’d, To cull from many bleſſings the moſt precious. CHORUS. With manly ſentiment thy wiſdom, lady, Speaks well. Confiding in thy ſuaſive ſigns, AGAMEMNON. Prepare we to addreſs the Gods; our ſtrains Shall not without their meed of honour riſe. PROSODE. Supreme of kingsa, Jove; and thou, friendly night, That wide o’er Heav’n’s ſtar-ſpangled plain Holdeſt thy aweful reign, Thou, that with reſiſtleſs might O’er Troy’s proud tow’rs, and deſtin’d ſtate, Haſt thrown the ſecret net of fate, In whoſe enormous ſweep the young, the old, Without diſtinction roll’d, Are with unſparing fury drag’d away To ſlavery and woe a prey : Thee, hoſpitable Jove, whoſe vengeful pow’r These terrors o’er the foe has ſpread, Thy bow long bent at Paris’ head, Whoſe arrows know their time to fly, Not hurtling aimleſs in the ſky, Our pious ſtrains adore. STROРНЕ 1. The hand of Jove will they not own*; And, as his marks they trace, Confess he will’d, and it was done? Who now of earth-born race Shall dare contend that his high pow’r Deigns not with eye ſevere to view The wretch, that tramples on his law? Hence with this impious lore: Learn that the ſons accurs’d ſhall rue The madly daring father’s pride, That furious drew th’ unrighteous ſword, High in his houſe the rich ſpoils ſtor’d, And the avenging Gods defied. But be it mine to draw From wiſdom’s fount, pure as it flows, That calm of ſoul, which virtue only knows. For vain the ſhield, that wealth ſhall ſpread, To guard the proud oppreſſor’s head, Who dares the rites of Juſtice to confound, And ſpurn her altars to the ground. ANTISTROPHE 1. But ſuafive is the voice of vicey, That ſpreads th’ inſidious ſnare: She, not conceal’d, thro’ her diſguiſe Emits a livid glare. Her vot’ry, like adult’rate braſs Unfaithful to its uſe, unfound, Proves the dark baſeneſs of his ſoul, Fond as a boy to chace The winged bird light-flitting round, And bent on his pernicious play Draws deſolation on his ſtate. His vows no God regards, when Fate In vengeance ſweeps the wretch away. With baſe intent and foul, Each hoſpitable law defied, From Sparta’s king thus Paris ſtole his bride. To Greece ſhe left the ſhield, the ſpear, The naval armament of war; And, bold in ill, to Troy’s devoted ſhore Deſtruction for her dowry bore. STROPHE 2. When thro’ the gates her eaſy way She took, his penſive breaſt Each prophet ſmote in deep diſmay, And thus his grief expreſt, “What “What woes this royal manſion threat, “This manſion, and its mighty lord? “Where now the chaſte connubial bed? “The traces of her feet, “By love to her bleſt confort led, “Where now? Ah, filent, ſee, ſhe ſtands; “Each glowing tint, each radiant grace, “That charm th' enraptur’d eye, we trace; “And ſtill the blooming form commands, “Still honour’d, ſtill ador’d, “Tho’ careless of her former loves “Far o’er the rolling ſea the wanton roves: “The husband, with a burſting ſigh, “Turns from the pictur’d fair his eye; “Whilſt love, by abſence fed, without controul “Tumultuous rushes on his ſoul. ANTISTROPHE 2. “Oft as ſhort ſlumbers cloſe his eyes, “His sad ſoul ſooth’d to reſt, “The dream-created viſions riſe, “With all her charms impreſt: “But vain th' ideal ſcene, that ſmiles “With rapt’rous love and warm delight, “Vain his fond hopes: his eager arms “The fleeting form beguiles, “On ſleep’s quick pinions paſſing light.” Such griefs, and more severe than these, Their sad gloom o’er the palace ſpread; Thence ſtretch their melancholy shade, And darken o’er the realms of Greece. Struck with no falſe alarms Each houſe its home-felt ſorrow knowsa, Each bleeding heart is pierc’d with keenest woes; When When for the hero, ſent to ſhare The glories of the crimſon war, Nought, ſave his arms ſtain’d with their master’s gore, And his cold ashes reach the ſhore. STROPHE 3. Thus in the dire exchange of war Does Mars the balance hold; Helms are the ſcales, the beam a ſpear, And blood is weigh’d for gold. Thus, for the warrior, to his friends His sad remains, a poor return, Sav’d from the fullen fire that roſe On Troy’s curſt ſhore, he ſends, Plac’d decent in the mournful urn. With many’ a tear their dead they weep, Their names with many’ a praiſe reſound; One for his ſkill in arms renown’d; One, that amidst the ſlaughter’d heap Of fierce-conflicting foes Glorious in beauty’s cauſe he fell: Yet 'gainſt th’ avenging chiefs their murmurs ſwell In filence, Some in youth’s freſh bloom Beneath Troy’s tow’rs poſſeſs a tomb; Their bodies buried on the diſtant ſtrand, Seizing in death the hoſtile land. ANTISTROPHE 3. How dreadful, when the people raiſe Loud murmurs mix’d with hate! Yet this the tribute greatneſs pays For its exalted ſtate. E’en now ſome dark and horrid deed By my preſaging ſoul is fear’d; For never with unheedful eyes, When ſlaughter’d thousands bleed, Did Did the juſt pow’rs of Heav’n regard The carnage of th’ enfanguin’d plain. The ruthleſs and oppreſſive pow’r May triumph for its little hour; Full ſoon with all their vengeful train The ſullen Furies riſe, Break his fell force, and whirl him down Thro’ life’s dark paths, unpitied, and unknown. And dangerous is the pride of fame, Like the red light’nings dazzling flame. Nor envied wealth, nor conqueſt let me gain, Nor drag the conqueror’s hateful chain. EPODE. But from theſe fires far ſſtreaming thro’ the night Fame thro’ the town her progreſs takes, And rapt’rous joy awakes; If with truth’s auſpicious light They ſhine, who knows? Her ſacred reign Nor fraud, nor falſehood dares prophane. But who, in wiſdom’s ſchool ſo lightly taught, Suffers his ardent thought From these informing flames to catch the fire, Full ſoon perchance in grief t’ expire? Yet when a woman holds the ſovereign ſway, Obſequious wiſdom learns to bow, And hails the joy it does not know; Tho’, as the glitt’ring viſions roll Before her eaſy, credulous ſoul, Their glories fade away. CLYTEMNESTRA. Whether theſe fires, that with ſucceſſive ſignals Blaze thro’ the night, be true, or like a dream Play with a ſweet deluſion on the ſoul, Soon ſhall we know. An herald from the ſhore I ſee; branches of olive ſhade his brows. That cloud of duſt, rais’d by his ſpeed, aſſures me That neither ſpeechless, nor enkindling flames Along the mountains, will he ſignify His meſſage; but his tongue ſhall greet our ears With words of joy: far from my ſoul the thought Of other, than confirm these fav’ring ſignals. CHORUS. May he, that to this ſstate ſhall form a wiſh Of other aim, on his own head receive it. CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS, HERALD. HERALD. Hail, thou paternal foil of Argive earth! In the fair light of the tenth year to thee Return’d, from the sad wreck of many hopes This one I ſave; ſav’d from deſpair e’en this; For never thought I in this honour’d earth To ſhare in death the portion of a tomb. Hail then, lov’d earth; hail, thou bright ſun ; and thou, Great guardian of my country, ſupreme Jove; Thou, Pythian king, thy ſhafts no longer wing’d For our deſtruction; on Scamander’s banks Enough we mourn’d thy wrath; propitious now Come, king Apollo, our defence. And all Ye Gods, that o’er the works of war preſide, I now invoke; thee, Mercury, my avenger, Rever’d by heralds, that from thee derive Their high employ; you heroesd , to the war That ſent us, friendly now receive our troops, The relicks of the ſpear. Imperial walls, Manſion of kings, ye ſeats rever’d; ye Gods, That to the golden ſun before these gates Preſent your honour’d forms; if e’er of old Thoſe eyes with favour have beheld the king, Receive him now, after this length of time, With glory; for he comes, and with him brings To you, and all, a light that cheers this gloom: Then greet him well; ſuch honour is his meed, The mighty king, that with the mace of Jove Th' avenger, wherewith he ſubdues the earth, Hath level’d with the duſt the tow’rs of Troy; Their altars are o’erturn’d, their ſacred ſhrines, And all the race destroy’d. This iron yoke Fix’d on the neck of Troy, victorious comes The great Atrides, of all mortal men Worthy of highest honours. Paris now, And the perfidious ſtate, ſhall boaſt no more His proud deeds unreveng’d; ſtript of his ſpoils, The debt of juſtice for his thefts, his rapines, Paid amply, o’er his father’s houſe he ſpreads With twofold loſs the wide-involving ruin. CLYTEMNESTRA. Joy to thee, herald of the Argive hoſtf. HERALD. HERALD. For joy like this, death were a cheap exchange. CLYTEMNESTRA. Strong thy affection to thy native foil. HERALD. HERALD. So ſtrong, the tear of joy ſtarts from my eye. CLYTEMNESTRA. What, hath this ſweet infection reach’d e’en you? HERALD. Beyond the pow’r of language have I felt it. CLYTEMNESTRA. The fond deſire of those, whoſe equal love- HERALD. This of the army ſay’ſt thou, whoſe warm love Streams to this land? Is this thy fond deſire? CLYTEMNESTRA. Such that I oft’ have breath’d the fecret ſigh. HERALD. Whence did the army cauſe this anxious ſadneſs? CLYTEMNESTRA. Silence I long have held an healing balm. HERALD. The princes abſent, had’ſt thou whom to fear? CLYTEMNESTRA. To uſe thy words, death were a wiſh’d exchange. HERALD. Well is the conflict ended. In the tide Of ſo long time, if 'midſt the eaſy flow Of wiſh’d events ſome tyrannous blaſt aſſail us, What marvel? Who, ſave the bleſt Gods, can claim Thro’ life’s whole courſe an unmix’d happineſs? Shou’d I relate our toils, our wretched plight Wedg’d in our narrow ill-provided cabbins, Each irkſome hour was loaded with fatigues. Yet these were ſlight aſſays to those worſe hardſhips We ſuffer’d on the ſhore: our lodging near The walls of the enemy, the dews of Heav’n Fell on us from above, the damps beneath From the moiſt marſh annoy’d us, ſhrouded ill In ſhaggy cov’rings. Or ſhou’d one relate The winter’s 'keen blaſts, which from Ida’s ſnows Breath frore, that pierc’d thro’ all their plumes the birds Shiver and die; or th’ extreme heat that ſcalds, When in his mid-day caves the ſea reclines, And not a breeze diſturbs his calm repoſe. But why lament these ſufferings? They are paſt, Paſt to the dead indeed; they lie, no more Anxious to rise. What then avails to count Those, whom the wasteful war hath ſwept away, And with their loſs afflict the living? Rather Bid we farewell to miſery: in our ſcale, Who haply of the Grecian hoſt remain, The good preponderates, and in counterpoiſe Our loſs is light ; and, after all our toils By ſea and land, before yon' golden ſun It is our glorious privilege to boaſt, “At length from vanquish’d Troy our warlike troops “Have to the Gods of Greece brought home these ſpoils, “And in their Temples, to record our conquests, “Fix’d these proud trophies.” Those, that hear this boaft, It well becomes to gratulate the ſtate, And the brave chiefs; revering Jove’s high pow’r That grac’d our conquering arms. Thou hast my meſſage. CHORUS. CHORUS. Thy words convince me; all my doubts are vaniſh’d: But fcrupulous inquiry grows with age. On Clytemneſtra and her houſe this charge, Bleſſing e’en me with the rich joy, devolves. CLYTEMNESTRA. Long fince my voice rais’d high each note of joy, When thro’ the night the ſtreaming blaze firſt came, And told us Troy was taken: Not unblam’d That, as a woman lightly credulous, I let a mountain fire tranſport my ſoul With the fond hope that Ilion’s haughty tow’rs Were humbled in the duſt. At this rebuke Tho’ ſomewhat ſhaken, yet I ſacrific’d; And, as weak women wont, one voice of joy Awoke another, till the city rang Thro’ all its ſtreets; and at the hallow’d ſhrines Each rais’d the pious ſtrains of gratitude, And fan’d the altars’ incenſe-breathing flame. But it is needleſs to detain thee longer, Soon from the king’s own lips ſhall I learn all. How best I may receive my honour’d lord, And grace his wiſh’d return, now claims my ſpeed. Can Heav’n’s fair beam ſhow a fond wife a ſight More grateful than her husband from his wars Return’d with glory, when ſhe opes the gate, And ſprings to welcome him? Tell my lord this, That he may haſten his deſir’d return: And tell him he will find his faithful wife, Such as he left her, a domestic creature To him all fondneſs, to his enemies Irreconcileable ; and tell him too That ten long years have not effac’d the ſeal Of Conſtancy; that never knew I pleaſure In the blamed converse of another man, More than the virgin metal in the mines Knows an adulterate and debaſing mixture. HERALD. HERALD. This high boaſt, lady, ſanctified by truth, Is not unseemly in thy princely rank. HERALD, CHORUS. CHORUS. This, for thy information, hath ſhe ſpoken With dignity and truth. Now tell me, herald, Of Sparta’s king wiſh I to queſtion thee, The pride of Greece: returns he ſafe with you? HERALD. Never can I eſteem a falſehood honeſt, Tho’ my friends long enjoy the ſweet deluſion. CHORUS. What then if thou relate an honest truth? From this diſtinction the conjecture’s eaſy. HERALD. Him from the Grecian fleet our eyes have loſt, The hero and his ſhip. This is the truth. CHORUS. Chanc’d this, when in your ſight he weigh’d from Troy; Or in a storm, that rent him from the fleet? HERALD. Rightly is thy conjecture aim’d, in brief Touching the long recital of our loſs. CHORUS. How deem’d the other mariners of this; That the ſhip periſh’d, or rode out the ſtorm? HERALD. Who, ſave yon' ſun the regent of the earth, Can give a clear and certain information? CHORUS. How ſaid’ſt thou then a storm, not without loſs, Wing’d with Heav’n’s fury, toſt the ſhatter’d fleet, HERALD. HERALD. It is not meet, with inauſpicious tonguel Spreading ill tidings, to profane a day Sacred to feſtal joy: the Gods require Their pure rites undisturbed. When with a brow Witneſs of woe, the meſſenger relates Unwelcome news, defeats, and ſlaughter’d armies, The wound with general grief affects the ſtate; And with particular and private ſorrow Full many’ an houſe, for many that have fall’n Victims to Mars, who to his bloody car Delights to yoke his terrors, ſword and ſpear. A pæan to the Furies wou’d become The bearer of ſuch pond’rous heap of ills. My tidings are of conqueſt and ſucceſs Diffuſing joy: with these glad ſounds how mix Diſtreſs, and ſpeak of ſtorms, and angry Gods?— The pow’rs, before most hoſtile, now conſpir’d, Fire and the ſea, in ruin reconcil’d: And in a night of tempeſt wild from Thrace In all their fury ruſh’d the howling winds; Toſt by the forceful blaſts ſhip againſt ſhip In hideous conflict daſh’d, or diſappear’d, Driv’n at the boiſt’rous whirlwind’s dreadful will. But when the ſun’s fair light return’d, we ſee Bodies of Grecians, and the wreck of ſhips Float on the chaſ’d foam of th’ Ægæan ſea. Us and our ſhip ſome God, the pow’r of man Were all too weak, holding the helm preſerv’d Unhurt, or interceding for our ſafety; And Fortune the deliverer ſteer’d our courſe To ſhun the waves, that near the harbour’s mouth Boil high, or break upon the rocky ſhore. Eſcap’d th’ ingulfing ſea, yet ſcarce ſecure Of our eſcape, thro’ the fair day we view With ſighs the recent ſufferings of the hoſt, Cov’ring the ſea with wrecks. If any breathe This vital air, they deem us loſt, as we Think the ſame ruin theirs. Fair fall th’ event! But firſt and chief expect the Spartan king T’arrive; if yet one ray of yon' bright ſun Beholds him living, thro’ the care of Jove, Who wills not to destroy that royal race, Well may we hope to joy in his return. Having heard this, know thou hast heard the truth. CHORUS.STROPHE 1. Is there to names a charm profound! Expreſſive of their fates aſſign’d, Mysterious potency of ſound, And truth in wond’rous accord join’d? Why elſe this fatal name, That Helen and deſtruction are the ſame? Affianc’d in contention, led, The ſpear her dowry, to the bridal bed; With deſolation in her train, Fatal to martial hoſts, to rampir’d tow’rs, From the rich fragrance of her gorgeous bow’rs, Deſcending to the main, She haſtes to ſpread her flying ſails, And calls the earth-born zephyr’s gales. Whilſt heroes, breathing vengeance, ſnatch their ſhields, And trace her light oars o’er the pathleſs waves, To the thick ſhades freſh waving o’er those fields, Which Simois with his ſilver windings laves. ANTISTROPHE 1. To Troy the ſhining miſchief came, Before her young-ey’d pleaſures play; But in the rear with ſtedfaſt aim Grim viſag’d vengeance marks his prey, Waiting the dreadful hour The terrors of offended Heav’n to pour On those that dar’d, an impious train, The rights of hoſpitable Jove prophane; Nor rever’d that ſacred ſong, Whoſe melting ſtrains the bride’s approach declare, As Hymen wakes the rapture-breathing air, Far other notes belong, The voice of mirth now heard no more, To Priam’s ſtate: its ruins o’er Wailing instead, diſtreſs, and loud lament; Long ſorrows ſprung from that unholy bed, And many’ a curſe in heart-felt anguish ſent On its woe-wedded Paris’ hated head. STROPHE 2. The woodman, from his thirsty lair, Reft of his dam, a lion bore; Foſter’d his future foe with care To miſchiefs he muſt ſoon deplore: Gentle and tame, whilſt young, Harmleſs he friſk’d the fondling babes among; Oft’ Oft’ in the father’s boſom lay, Oft’ lick’d his feeding hand in fawning play; Till, conſcious of his firmer age, His lion-race the lordly ſavage ſhows; No more his youth-protecting cottage knows, But with infatiate rage Flies on the flocks, a baleful gueſt, And riots in th’ unbidden feaſt: Whilſt thro’ his mangled folds the hapleſs ſwain With horror ſees th’ unbounded carnage ſpread; And learns too late that from th’ infernal reign A prieſt of Ate in his houſe was bred. ANTISTROPHE 2. To Ilion’s tow’rs in wanton ſtate With ſpeed ſhe wings her eaſy way; Soft gales obedient round her wait, And pant on the delighted ſea. Attendant on her ſide The richest ornaments of ſplendid pride: The darts, whoſe golden points inſpire, Shot from her eyes, the flames of ſoft deſire; The youthful bloom of roſy love, That fills with extaſy the willing ſoul; With duteous zeal obey her ſweet controul. But, ſuch the doom of Jove, Vindictive round her nuptial bed, With threat’ning mien and footstep dread, Ruſhes, to Priam and his ſtate ſevere, To rend the bleeding heart his ſtern delight, And from the bridal eye to force the tear, Erinnys, rising from the realms of night. EPODE. From ev’ry mouth we oft' have heard This ſaying, for its age rever’d; “With joy we ſee our offspring rise, “And happy, who not childless dies: “But fortune, when her flowrets blow, “Oft’ bears the bitter fruit of woe.” Tho’ these ſaws are as truths allow’d, Thus I dare differ from the croud, “One baſe deed, with prolific pow’r, “Like its curſt ſtock engenders more: “But to the juſt, with blooming grace “Still flouriſhes, a beauteous race.” The old injustice joys to breed Her young, inſtinct with villainous deed; The young her deſtin’d hour will find To ruſh in miſchief on mankind: She too in Ate’s murky cell, Brings forth the hideous child of hell, A burden to th’ offended ſky, The pow’r of bold impiety. But Juſtice bids her ray divine E’en on the low-roof’d cottage ſhine; And beams her glories on the life, That knows not fraud, nor ruſſian ſtrife. The gorgeous glare of gold, obtain’d By foul polluted hands, diſdain’d She leaves, and with averted eyes To humbler, holier manſions flies; And looking thro’ the times to come Aſſigns each deed its righteous doom. CHORUS. CHORUS, AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. My royal lord, by whoſe victorious hand The tow’rs of Troy are fall’n, illuſtrious ſon Of Atreus, with what words, what reverence Shall I addreſs thee, not t’o’erleap the bounds Of modeſt duty, nor to ſink beneath An honorable welcome? Some there are, That form themſelves to ſeem, more than to be, Transgreſſing honeſty: to him that feels Miſfortune’s rugged hand, full many’ a tongue Shall drop condolence, tho’ th’ unfeeling heart Knows not the touch of ſorrow; these again In fortune’s ſummer gale with the like art Shall dreſs in forc’d ſmiles th’ unwilling face: But him the penetrating eye ſoon marks, That in the ſeemly garb of honest zeal Attempts to cloath his meager blandiſhments. When firſt in Helen’s cauſe my royal lord Levied his hoſt, let me not hide the truth, Notes, other than of muſic, echoed wide In loud complaints from ſuch as deem’d him raſh, And void of reason, by conſtraint to plant In breaſts averſe the martial ſoul, that glows Deſpiſing death. But now their eager zeal Streams friendly to those chiefs, whoſe proſp’rous valour Is crown’d with conquest. Soon then ſhalt thou learn, As each ſupports the ſtate, or ſtrives to rend it With faction, who reveres thy dignity. AGAMEMNON. To Argos firſt, and to my country Godso, I bow with reverence, by whoſe holy guidance On Troy’s proud tow’rs I pour’d their righteous vengeance, And now reviſit ſafe my native ſoil. AGAMEMNON. No loud-tongued pleader heard, they judg’d the cauſe, And in the bloody urn, without one vote Disſentient, caſt the lots that fix’d the fate Of Ilion and its ſons: the other vaſe Left empty, ſave of widow’d hope. The ſmoke, Rolling in duſky wreaths, ſhows that the town Is fall’n; the firey ſtorm yet lives, and high The dying aſhes toſs rich clouds of wealth Consum’d. For this behoves us to the Gods Render our grateful thanks, and that they ſpread The net of fate ſweeping with angry ruin. In beauty’s cauſe the Argive monſter rear’d Its bulk enormous, to th' affrighted town Portending AGAMEMNON. Portending devaſtation; in its womb Hiding embattled hoſts, rush’d furious forth, About the ſetting of the Pleiades, And, as a lion rav’ning for its prey, Ramp’d o’er their walls, and lap’d the blood of kings. This to the Gods addreſs’d, I turn me now Attentive to thy caution: I approve Thy juſt remark, and with my voice confirm it. Few have the fortitude of ſoul to honour A friend’s ſucceſs, without a touch of envy; For that malignant paſſion to the heart Cleaves cloſe, and with a double burden loads The man infected with it: firſt he feels AGAMEMNON. In all their weight his own calamities, Then ſighs to ſee the happineſs of others. This of my own experience have I learn’d; And this I know, that many, who in public Have born the ſemblance of my firmeſt friends, Are but the flatt’ring image of a ſhadow Reflected from a mirror: Save Ulyſſes, Alone, who, tho’ averſe to join our arms, Yok’d in his martial harneſs from my ſide Swerv’d not; living or dead be this his praiſe. But what concerns our kingdom and the Gods, Holding a general council of the ſſtate, We will conſult; that what is well may keep Its goodneſs permanent, and what requires Our healing hand, with mild ſeverity May be corrected. But my royal roof Now will I viſit, and before its hearths Offer libations to the Gods, who ſent me To this far diſtant war, and led me back. Firm ſtands the victory that attends our arms. AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA, AGAMEMNON, CHORUS. CLYTEMNESTRA. Friends, fellow-citizens, whoſe counſels guide The ſtate of Argos, in your reverend preſence A wife’s fond love I bluſh not to disclose: Thus habit ſoftens dread. From my full heart Will I recount my melancholy life Thro’ the long ſtay of my lov’d lord at Troy: For a weak woman, in her husband’s abſence, Penſive to ſit and lonely in her houſe, AGAMEMNON. ’Tis diſmal, liſt’ning to each frightful tale: Firſt one alarms her, then another comes Charg’d with worſe tidings. Had my poor lord here Suffer’d as many wounds as common fame Reported, like a net he had been pierc’d: Had he been ſlain oft’ as the loud-tongued rumour Was nois’d abroad, this triple-form’d Geryons, A ſecond of the name, whilſt yet alive, For of the dead I ſpeak not, well might boaſt To have receiv’d his triple mail, to die In each form ſingly. Such reports oppreſs’d me, Till life became diſtaſteful, and my hands AGAMEMNON. Were prompted oft’ to deeds of deſperation. Nor is thy ſon Oreſtes, the dear tie That binds us each to th’ other, preſent here To aid me, as he ought: nay, marvel not, The friendly Strophius with a right ſtrong arm Protects him in Phocæa; whilſt his care Saw danger threat me in a double form, The loſs of thee at Troy, the anarchy That might enſue, ſhou’d madneſs drive the people To deeds of violence, as men are prompt Inſultingly to trample on the fall’n: Such care dwells not with fraud. At thy return The gushing fountains of my tears are dried, Save that my eyes are weak with midnight watchings, Straining, thro’ tears, if haply they might ſee Thy ſignal fires, that claim’d my fix’d attention. If they were clos’d in ſleep, a ſilly fly Wou’d, with its ſlightest murm’rings, make me ſtart, And wake me to more fears. For thy dear ſake All this I ſuffer’d: but my jocund heart Forgets it all, whilſt I behold my lord, My guardian, the ſtrong anchor of my hope, The ſtately column that ſupports my houſe, Dear as an only child to a fond parent; Welcome as land, which the toſt mariner Beyond his hope deſcries; welcome as day After a night of ſtorms with fairer beams Returning; welcome as the liquid lapſe Of fountain to the thirſty traveller: So pleaſant is it to eſcape the chain Of hard conſtraint. AGAMEMNON. Such greeting I eſteem Due to thy honour: let it not offend, For I have ſuffer’d much. But, my lov’d lord, Leave now that car; nor on the bare ground ſet That royal foot, beneath whoſe mighty tread Troy trembled. Haſte, ye virgins, to whoſe care This pleaſing office is entrusted, ſpread The ſtreets with tapeſtry; let the ground be cover’d With richest purple, leading to the palace; That honour with juſt ſtate may grace his entry, Tho’ unexpected. My attentive care, Shall, if the Gods permit, diſpoſe the reſt To welcome his high glories, as I ought. AGAMEMNON. Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house, Thy words are correſpondent to my abſence, Of no ſmall length. With better grace my praiſe Wou’d come from others: Sooth me not with ſtrains Of adulation, as a girl; AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. nor raiſe, As to ſome proud barbaric king, that loves Loud acclamations echoed from the mouths Of proſtrate worſhippers, a clamorous welcome: Nor ſpread the ſtreets with tapeſtry; 'tis invidious; Theſe are the honours we should pay the Gods. For mortal man to tread on ornaments Of rich embroid'ry - No: I dare not do it: Reſpect me as a man, not as a God. AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. Why ſhould my foot pollute these veſts, that glow With various tinctur'd radiance? My full fame Swells high without it; and the temperate rule Of cool diſcretion is the choiceft gift Of fav'ring Heav'n. Happy the man, whoſe life Is ſpent in friendſhip’s calm ſecurity. These ſober joys be mine, I aſk no more. CLYTEMNESTRA. Do not thou thwart the purpoſe of my mind. AGAMEMNON. My mind, be well aſſur’d, ſhall not be tainted. CLYTEMNESTRA. Haſt thou in fear made to the Gods this vow? AGAMEMNON. Free, from my ſoul in prudence have I ſaid it. CLYTEMNESTRA. Had Priam’s arms prevail’d, how had he acted? AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. On rich embroid'ry he had proudly trod. CLYTEMNESTRA. Then dread not thou th' invidious tongues of men. AGAMEMNON. Yet has the popular voice much potency. CLYTEMNESTRA. But the unenvied is not of the happy. AGAMEMNON. Ill ſuits it thy ſoft ſex to love contention. CLYTEMNESTRA. To yield ſometimes adds honour to the mighty. AGAMEMNON. Art thou ſo earnest to obtain thy wiſh? CLYTEMNESTRA. Let me prevail: indulge me with this conqueſt. AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON. If ſuch thy will, haſte ſome one, from my feet Unlooſe these high-bound buſkins, leſt ſome God Look down indignant, if with them I preſs These veſts ſea-tinctur’d: Shame it were to ſpoil With unclean tread their rich and coſtly texture. Of these enough. This ſtranger, let her find A gentle treatment: from high Heav’n the God Looks with an eye of favour on the victor That bears his high ſtate meekly; for none wears Of his free choice the yoke of ſlavery. And ſhe, of many treaſures the prime flow’r Selected by the troops, has follow’d me. Well, ſince I yield me vanquiſh’d by thy voice, I go, treading on purple, to my houſe. CLYTEMNESTRA. Does not the ſea, and who ſhall drain it, yield Unfailing ſtores of these rich tints, that glow With purple radiance? Theſe this lordly house Commands, bleſt with abundance, but to want A ſtranger. I had vow’d his foot ſhou’d tread On many a veſtment, when the victims bled, The hallow'd pledge which this fond breaſt devis'd For his return. AGAMEMNON. For whilſt the vig’rous root Maintains its graſp, the ſtately head ſhall riſe, And with its waving foliage ſcreen the houſe From the fierce dog-ſtar’s firey peſtilence. And on thy preſence at thy houſhold hearth, E’en the cold winter feels a genial warmth. But when the hot ſun in the unripe grape Matures the wine, the husband’s perfect virtues Spread a refreſhing coolness. Thou, O Jove, Source of perfection, perfect all my vows, And with thy influence favour my intents! AGAMEMNON. CHORUS.STROPHE 1. What may this mean? Along the ſkies Why do these dreadful portents roll ? Viſions of terror, ſpare my aching eyes, Nor ſhake my sad preſaging ſoul! AGAMEMNON. In accents dread, not tun'd in vain, Why burſts the free, unbidden ſtrain ? These are no phantoms of the night, That vaniſh at the faithful light Of ſtedfaſt confidence. Thou ſober pow’r, Whither, ah, whither art thou gone? For ſince the long-paſs’d hour, When firſt for Troy the naval band Unmoor’d their veſſels from the ſtrand, Thou hast not in my bosom fix'd thy throne. ANTISTROPHE 1. At length they comex: these faithful eyes, See them return’d to Greece again: Yet, while the ſullen lyre in ſilence lies, Erinnys wakes the mournful ſtrain : AGAMEMNON. Her dreadful pow’rs poſſeſs my ſoul, And bid the untaught meaſures roll; Swell in rude notes the diſmal lay, And fright enchanting hope away; Whilſt, ominous of ill, grim-viſag’d care Inceſſant whirls my tortur’d heart. Vain be each anxious fear! Return, fair hope, thy ſeat reſume, Diſpell this melancholy gloom, And to my ſoul thy gladſome light impart ! STROPHE 2. Ah me, what hope! This mortal ſtatey Nothing but cruel change can know. Shou’d chearful health our vig’rous ſteps await, Enkindling all her roſeate glow; Diſeaſe creeps on with ſilent pace, And withers ev’ry blooming grace. AGAMEMNON. Proud ſails the bark; the freſh gales breath, And daſh her on the rocks beneath, In the rich houſe her treaſures plenty pours; Comes ſloth, and from her well-pois’d ſling Scatters the piled up ſtores. Yet diſeaſe makes not all her prey: Nor ſinks the bark beneath the ſea: And famine ſees the heav’n-ſent harveſt ſpring. ANTISTROPHE 2. But when forth-welling from the woundz The purple-ſtreaming blood ſhall fall, And the warm tide diſtain the reeking ground, Who ſhall the vaniſh’d life recall? Nor verſe, nor muſic’s magic pow’r, Nor the fam’d leech’s boaſted lore; Not that his art reſtor’d the dead, Jove’s thunder burſt upon his head. —But that the Fates forbid, and chain my tongue, My heart, at inſpiration’s call, Wou’d the rapt ſtrain prolong: Now all is dark; it raves in vain, And, as it pants with trembling pain, Deſponding feels its firey tranſports fall. AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA, CASSANDRA, CHORUS. CLYTEMNESTRA. Thou too, Caſſandra, enter; ſince high Jove, Gracious to thee, hath plac’d thee in this houſe*, With many ſlaves to ſhare the common rites, And deck the altar of the fav’ring God. Come from that chariot, and let temperance rule Thy lofty ſpirit: e’en Alcmena’s ſonb, Sold as a ſlave, ſubmitted to the yoke Perforce; AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA. and if neceſſity’s hard hand Hath ſunk thee to this fortune, our high rank, With greatneſs long acquainted, knows to uſe Its pow’r with gentleness: the low-born wretchc, That from his mean degree riſes at once To unexpected riches, treats his ſlaves With barbarous and unbounded inſolence. From us thou wilt receive a juſter treatment. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. These are plain truths: ſince in the toils of fate Thou are inclos’d, ſubmit, if thou canst brook Submiſſion; haply I advise in vain. CLYTEMNESTRA. If that her language, like the twittering ſwallow’sd, Be not all barbarous and unknown, my words Within ſhall with perſuaſion move her mind. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. She ſpeaks what beſt beſeems thy preſent ſſtate; Follow, ſubmit, and leave that lofty car. CLYTEMNESTRA. I have not leiſure here before the gates T' attend on her; for at the inmoſt altar, Blazing with ſacred fires, the victims ſtand Devoted to the Gods for his return So much beyond our hopes. If to comply Thou form thy mind, delay not: if thy tongue Knows not to sound our language, let thy ſigns Supply the place of words, ſpeak with thy hand. CHORUS. Of foreign birth ſhe understands us not; But as new taken ſtruggles in the net. CLYTEMNESTRA. ’Tis frenzy this, the impulſe of a mind Diſorder’d; from a city lately taken She comes, and knows not how to bear the curb, ’Till ſhe has ſpent her rage in bloody foame. But I no more waſte words to be diſdain’d. CHORUS. My words, for much I pity her, ſhall bearf No mark of anger. Go, unhappy fair one, Forſake thy chariot, unreluctant learn To bear this new yoke of neceſſity. CASSANDRA. Woe, woe! O Earth! Apollo, O Apollo! CHORUS. Why with that voice of woe invoke Apollo? Ill do these notes of grief accord with himg. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. Woe, woe! O Earth! Apollo, Ο Apollo! CHORUS. Again her inauspicious voice invokes The God, whoſe ears are not attun’d to woe. CASSANDRA. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, Yet once more, God, thou leadeſt me to ruin! CHORUS. She ſeems prophetic of her own misfortunes, Retaining, tho' a slave, the divine ſpirith. CASSANDRA. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader, Ah, whither hast thou led me? to what houſe? CHORUS. Is that unknown? Let me declare it then : This is the royal manſion of th' Atridæ. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. It is a manſion hated by the Gods, Conſcious to many' a foul and horrid deed; A ſlaughter-house, that reeks with human gore. CHORUS. This ſtranger ſeems, like the nice-ſcented hound, Quick in the trace of blood, which ſhe will find. CASSANDRA. Theſe are convincing proofs. Look there, look there, Whilſt pity drops a tear, the children butcher'di, The father feasting on their roasted flesh! CHORUS. Thy fame, prophetic virgin, we have heard; We know thy ſkill; but wiſh no prophets now. CASSANDRA. Ye pow’rs of Heav’n, what does ſhe now deſign? What new and dreadful deed of woe is this? What dreadful ill deſigns ſhe in the houſe, Intolerable, irreparable miſchief, Whilſt far ſhe ſends the ſuccouring pow’r away? AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. These prophecies ſurpaſs my apprehenſion: The firſt I knew, they echo thro’ the city. CASSANDRA. Ah daring wretch, doſt thou atchieve this deed, Thus in the bath the partner of thy bed Refreſhing? How ſhall I relate th' event? Yet ſpeedy ſhall it be. E’en now advanc’d Hand above hand extended threatens high. CHORUS. I comprehend her not; her words are dark, Perplexing me like abſtruſe oracles. CASSANDRA. Ha! What is this, that I ſee here before me? Is it the net of hell? Or rather her’s, Who ſhares the bed, and plans the murderous deed. Let diſcord, whoſe infatiable rage Purſues this race, howl thro’ the royal rooms Againſt the victim deſtin’d to deſtruction. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. What Fury doſt thou call within this houſe To hold her orgies? The dread invocation Appalls mek; to my heart the purple drops Flow back; a deathlike miſt covers my eyes, With expectation of ſome ſudden ruin. CASSANDRA. See, ſee there: from the heifer keep the bull! O’er his black brows ſhe throws th' entangling veſt, And ſmites him with her huge two-handed engine. He falls, amidſt the cleanſing laver falls: I tell thee of the bath, the treach’rous bath. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. T' unfold the obſcure oracles of Heav’n Is not my boast; beneath the ſhadowing veil Misfortune lies: When did th' inquirer learn From the dark ſentence an event of joy? From time’s firſt records the diviner’s voice Gives the sad heart a ſenſe of miſery. CASSANDRA. Ah me unhappy? Wretched, wretched fate! For my own ſufferings join’d call forth these wailings. Why hast thou brought me hither? Wretched me! Is it for this, that I may die with him? CHORUS. This is the frenzy of a mind poſſeſs’d With wildeſt ravings. Thy own woes thou waileſt In mournful melody; like the ſweet bird, That darkling pours her never-ceaſing plaint; And for her Itys, her loſt Itysl, waſtes In ſweetest woe her melancholy life. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. Ah me! the fortune of the nightingale Is to be envied: on her light-pois’d plumes She wings at will her eaſy way, nor knows The anguiſh of a tear, whilſt o’er my head Th’ impending ſword threatens the fatal wound. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Whence is this violent, this wild preſage Of ill? Thy fears are vain; yet with a voice That terrifies, tho' ſweet, aloud thou ſpeakeſt Thy ſorrows. Whence hast thou deriv’d these omens, Thus deeply mark’d with characters of death? CASSANDRA. Alas the bed, the bridal bed of Paris, Deſtructive to his friends! Paternal ſſtream, Scamander, on thy banks with careleſs ſteps My childhood ſtray’d: but now methinks I go, Alas, how ſoon! to propheſy around Cocytus, and the banks of Acheron! CHORUS. Perfpicuous this, and clear! the new-born babe Might comprehend it: but thy piercing griefs, Bewailing thus the miſeries of thy fate, Strike deep; they wound me to my very ſoul. CASSANDRA. Ah my poor country, my poor bleeding country, Fall’n, fall’n for ever! And you, ſacred altars, That blaz’d before my father’s tow’red palace, Not all your victims cou’d avert your doom! And on the earth ſoon ſhall my warm blood flow. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. This is conſistent with thy former ravings. Or does ſome God indeed incumbent preſs Thy ſoul, and modulate thy voice to utter These lamentable notes of woe and death? What the event ſhall be, exceeds my knowledge. CASSANDRA. The oracle no more ſhall ſhroud its viſage Beneath a veil, as a new bride that bluſhes To meet the gazing eye; but like the ſun, When with his orient ray he gilds the east, Shall burſt upon you in a flood of light, Diſclofing deeds of deeper dread. Away, Ye myſtic coverings! And you, reverend men Bear witness to me, that with ſteddy ſtep AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. I trace foul deeds that ſmell above the earth. For never ſhall that band, whoſe yelling notes In diſmal accord pierce th' affrighted ear, Forſake this houſe. The genius of the feaſt, Drunk with the blood of men, and fir'd from thence To bolder daring, ranges thro’ the rooms Link’d with his kindred Furies: these poſſeſs The manſion, and in horrid meaſures chaunt The first baſe deedm; recording with abhorrence Th' adulterous luſt, that ſtain’d a brother’s bed. What, like a ſkilful archer, have I lodg’d My arrow in the mark? No trifling this, T' alarm you with falſe ſounds. But ſwear to me, In ſolemn atteſtation, that I know, And ſpeak the old offences of this houſe. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. In ſuch a rooted ill what healing pow’r Reſides there in an oath? But much I marvel That thou, the native of a foreign realm, Of foreign tongue, canſt ſpeak our language freely, As Greece had been thy conſtant reſidence. CASSANDRA. Apollo grac’d me with this ſkill. At firſt The curb of modeſty was on my tongue. CHORUS. Did the God feel the force of young deſire? In each gay breast ease fans the wanton flame. CASSANDRA. With all the fervor of impatient love He ſtrove to gratify my utmoſt wiſh. CHORUS. And didſt thou liſten to his tempting lures? CASSANDRA. Firſt I aſſented, then deceiv’d the God, CHORUS. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Waſt thou then fraught with these prophetic arts? CASSANDRA. E’en then I told my country all its woes: CHORUS. The anger of the God fell heavy on thee? CASSANDRA. My voice, for this offence, loſt all perſuaſion. CHORUS. To us it ſeems a voice of truth divine. CASSANDRA. Woe, woe is me! Again the furious pow’r Swells in my lab’ring breast; again commands My bursting voice; and what I ſpeak is Fate.— Look, look, behold those children. — There they ſit; Such are the forms, that in the troubled night Diſtract our ſleep. — By a friend’s hands they died: Are these the ties of blood?—See, in their hands Their mangled limbs, horrid repaſt, they bear: Th' invited father ſhares th’ accurſed feaſt. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. For this the ſluggard ſavage, that at ease Rolls on his bed, nor rouſes from his lair, ’Gainſt my returning lord, for I must wear The yoke of ſlavery, plans the dark deſign Of death. Ah me! the chieftain of the fleet, The vanquisher of Troy, but little knows What the ſmooth tongue of miſchief, filed to words Of glozing courtesy, with Fate her friend, Like Ate ranging in the dark can do Calmly: ſuch deeds a woman dares: ſhe dares Murder a man. What ſhall I call this miſchief? An Amphiſbæna? or a Scylla rather, That in the vex’d rocks holds her reſidence, And meditates the mariner’s deſtruction? Mother of Hell, ’midſt friends enkindling diſcord And hate implacable! With dreadful daring How did ſhe ſhout, as if the battle ſwerv’d? Yet with feign’d joy ſhe welcomes his return.— These words may want perſuaſion. What of that? What must come, will come and e’er long with grief Thou ſhalt conſeſs my prophecies are true. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Thyeſtes’ bloody feaſt oft have I heard of, Always with horror; and I tremble now Hearing th’ unaggravated truth. What elſe She utters, leads my wand’ring thoughts aſtray In wild uncertainty. CASSANDRA. Then mark me well, Thou ſhalt behold the death of Agamemnon. CHORUS. To better omens tune that voice unbleſs’d, Or in eternal ſilence be it ſunk. CASSANDRA. This is an ill no medicine can heal. CHORUS. Not if it happens: but avert it, Heav’n! AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. To pray be thine; the murd'rous deed is theirs. CHORUS. What man dares perpetrate this dreadful act? CASSANDRA. How widely doſt thou wander from my words? CHORUS. I heard not whoſe bold hand ſhou'd do the deed. CASSANDRA. Yet ſpeak I well the language of your Greece. CHORUS. The gift of Phœbus this; no trivial grace. CASSANDRA. Ah, what a ſudden flame comes ruſhing on me! I burn, I burn. Apollo, O Apollo! This lioneſs, that in a ſenſual ſty Roll’d with the wolf, the generous lion abſent, Will kill me. And the forcereſs, as ſhe brews Her philtred cup, will drug it with my blood. She glories, as againſt her husband’s life She whets the axe, her vengeance falls on him For that he came accompanied by me.— AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. Why do I longer wear these uſeleſs honours, This laurel wand, and these prophetic wreaths? Away; before I die I cast you from me; Lie there, and periſh; I am rid of you; Or deck the ſplendid ruin of ſome other. Apollo rends from me these ſacred veſtments, Who ſaw me in his rich habiliments Mock’d ’midſt my friends, doubtleſs without a cauſe. When in opprobrious terms they jeer’d my ſkill, And treated me as a poor vagrant wretch, That told events from door to door for bread, I bore it all: but now the prophet God, That with his own arts grac’d me, ſinks me down To this low ruin. As my father fell Butcher’d e’en at the altar, like the victim’s My warm blood at the altar ſhall be ſhed: Nor ſhall we die unhonour’d by the Gods. He comes, dreadful in puniſhment, the ſon Of this bad mother, by her death t’ avenge His murder’d father: Diſtant tho’ he roams, An outcast and exile, by his friends Fenc’d from these deeds of violence, he comes In ſolemn vengeance for his father laid Thus low. But why for foreign miſeries Does the tear darken in my eye, that ſaw The fall of Ilium, and its haughty conq'rors In righteous judgment thus receive their meed? But forward now; I go to cloſe the ſcene, Nor ſhrink from death. I have a vow in Heav’n: And further I adjure these gates of Hell, Well may the blow be aim’d, that whilſt my blood Flows in a copious ſſtream, I may not feel The fierce, convulsive agonies of death; But gently ſink, and cloſe my eyes in peace. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Unhappy, in thy knowledge moſt unhappy, Long have thy ſorrows flow’d. But if indeed Thou doſt foreſee thy death, why, like the heifer Led by an heav’nly impulſe, do thy ſteps Advance thus boldly to the cruel altar? CASSANDRA. I cou’d not by delay eſcape my fate. CHORUS. Yet is there ſome advantage in delay. CASSANDRA. The day is come: by flight I ſhou'd gain little. CHORUS. Thy boldness adds to thy unhappineſs. CASSANDRA. None of the happy ſhuns his deſtin’d end. CHORUS. True; but to die with glory crowns our praiſe. CASSANDRA. So died my father, ſo his noble ſons. CHORUS. What may this mean? Why backward doſt thou ſtart? Do thy own thoughts with horror ſtrike thy ſoul? CASSANDRA. The ſcent of blood and death breathes from this houſe. CHORUS. The victims now are bleeding at the altar. CASSANDRA. ’Tis ſuch a ſmell as iſſues from the tomb. CHORUS. This is no Syrian odour in the houſe. CASSANDRA. Such tho' it be, I enter, to bewail My fate, and Agamemnon’s. To have liv’d, Let it ſuffice. And think not, gen’rous ſtrangers, Like the poor bird that flutters o’er the bough, Thro' fear I linger. But my dying words You will remember, when her blood ſhall flow For mine, woman’s for woman’s: and the man’s, For his that falls by his accurſed wife. CHORUS. Thy fate, poor ſufferer, fills my eyes with tears. CASSANDRA. Yet once more let me raiſe my mournful voice. Thou Sun, whoſe riſing beams ſhall bleſs no more These CASSANDRA. These cloſing eyes! You, whoſe vindictive rage Hangs o'er my hated murderers, Oh avenge me, Tho', a poor ſlave, I fall an eaſy prey! This is the ſtate of man: in profperous fortune A ſhadow, paſſing light, throws to the groundn Joy’s baſeleſs fabric: in adverſity Comes malice with a ſpunge moiſten’d in gall, And wipes each beauteous character away: More than the firſt this melts my ſoul to pity. CHORUS. By nature man is form'd with boundless wiſhes For proſperous fortune; and the great man’s door Stands ever open to that envied perſon, On whom ſhe ſmiles: but enter not with words, Like this poor ſufferer, of ſuch dreadful import. His arms the pow’rs of Heav’n have grac’d with conqueſt; Troy’s proud walls lie in duſt; and he returns Crown’d by the Gods with glory: but if now His blood must for the blood there ſhed atoneo, If he must die for those that died, too dearly He buys his triumph. Who of mortal men Hears this, and dares to think his state ſecure? AGAMEMNONwithin. Oh, I am wounded with a deadly blow. SEMICHORUS. List, list. What cry is this of wounds and death? AGAMEMNONwithin. Wounded again, Oh, baſely, baſely murder'd. SEMICHORUS. ’Tis the king’s cry; the dreadful deed is doing. What ſhall we do? What meaſures ſhall we form? SEMICHORUS. What if we ſpread th' alarm, and with our outcries Call at the palace gates the citizens? SEMICHORUS. Nay rather ruſh we in, and prove the deed, Whilſt the freſh blood is reeking on the ſword. SEMICHORUS. I readily concur; determine then; For ſomething must be done, and inſtantly. SEMICHORUS. That’s evident. This bloody prelude threatens More deeds of violence and tyranny. SEMICHORUS. We linger: thoſe that tread the paths of honour, Late tho' ſhe meets them, ſleep not in their taſk. SEMICHORUS. Perplexity and doubt diſſtract my thoughts: Deeds of high import aſk maturest counſel. SEMICHORUS. Such are my thoughts, ſince fruitleſs were th' attempt By all our pleas to raiſe the dead to life. SEMICHORUS. To ſave our wretched lives then ſhall we bow To these imperious lords, these ſtains of honour? SEMICHORUS. That were a ſhame indeed: No: let us die; Death is more welcome than ſuch tyranny. SEMICHORUS. Shall we then take these outcries, which we heard, For proofs, and thence conclude the king is ſlain? SEMICHORUS. We ſhou'd be well aſſur’d e’er we pronounce: To know, and to conjecture, differ widely. SEMICHORUS. There’s reaſon in thy words. Beſt enter then, And ſee what fate attends the ſon of Atreus. CLYTEMNESTRA.CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS. To many’ a fair ſpeech ſuited to the times If my words now be found at variance, CLYTEMNESTRA. I ſhall not blush. For when the heart conceives Thoughts of deep vengeance on a foe, what means T' atchieve the deed more certain, than to wear The form of friendſhip, and with circling wiles Incloſe him in th' unſuperable net? This was no haſty, raſh-conceiv’d deſign; But form’d with deep, premeditated thought, Incens’d with wrongs; and often have I stood, T' aſſay the execution, where he fell; And plan’d it ſo, for I with pride avow it, He had no pow’r t' eſcape, or to reſiſt, Entangled in the gorgeous robe, that ſhone Fatally rich. I ſtruck him twice, and twice He groan'd, then died. CLYTEMNESTRA. A third time as he lay I gored him with a wound, a grateful preſent To the ſtern God, that in the realms below Reigns o'er the dead: there let him take his ſeat. He lay; and ſpouting from his wounds a ſtream Of blood, bedew’d me with these crimſon drops. I glory in them, like the genial earth, When the warm ſhow’rs of Heav’n deſcend, and wake The flowrets to unfold their vermeil leaves. Come then, ye reverend ſenators of Argos, Joy with me, if your hearts be tun’d to joy; And ſuch I wiſh them. Were it decent now To pour libations o’er the dead, with juſtice It might be done; for his injurious pride Fill’d for this houſe the cup of deſolation, Fated himſelf to drain it to the dregs. CHORUS. We are astoniſh’d at thy daring words, Thus vaunting o’er the ruins of thy husband. CLYTEMNESTRA. Me, like a witleſs woman, wou’dſt thou fright? I tell thee, my firm ſoul diſdains to fear. Be thou diſpos’d t' applaud, or cenfure me, I reck it not: there Agamemnon lies, My husband, ſlaughter’d by this hand: I dare Avow his death, and justify the deed. CHORUS. What poiſon hath the baleful-teeming earthq, Or the chaſ’d billows of the foamy ſea, Giv’n thee for food, or mingled in thy cup, To work thee to this frenzy? Thy curs’d hand Hath ſtruck, hath ſlain. For this thy country’s wrath Shall in juſt vengeance burſt upon thy head, And with abhorrence drive thee from the city. CLYTEMNESTRA. And doſt thou now denounce upon my head Vengeance, and hate, and exile? 'Gainſt this man Urging no charge? Yet he without remorſe, As if a lamb that wanton'd in his pastures Were doom’d to bleed, cou’d ſacrifice his daughter, For whoſe dear ſake I felt a mother’s pains, T' appeaſe the winds of Thrace. Shou'd not thy voice Adjudge this man to exile, in juſt vengeance For ſuch unholy deeds? Scarce hast thou heard What I have done, but ſentence is pronounc’d, And that with rigor too. But mark me well, I boldly tell thee that I bear a ſoul Prepar’d for either fortune: if thy hand Be ſtronger, uſe thy pow’r: but if the Gods Proſper my cauſe, be thou aſſur’d, old man, Thou ſhalt be taught a leſſon of diſcretion. CHORUS. Aſpiring are thy thoughts, and thy proud vaunts Swell with diſdain; e’en yet thy madding mind Is drunk with ſlaughter; with a ſavage grace The thick blood ſtains thine eye. But ſoon thy friends Faithleſs ſhall ſhrink from thy unſhelter’d ſide, And leave thee to juſt vengeance, blow for blow. CLYTEMNESTRA. Hear then this ſolemn oath: By that revenge, Which for my daughter I have greatly taken; By the dread pow’rs of Ate and Erinnys, To whom my hand devoted him a victim, Without a thought of fear I range these rooms, Whilſt preſent to my aid Ægiſthus ſtands, As he hath ſtood, guarding my ſocial hearth: He is my ſhield, my ſtrength, my confidence. Here lies my baſe betrayer, who at Troy Cou’d revel in the arms of each Chryſeis; He, and his captive minion; ſhe that mark’d Portents and prodigies, and with ominous tongue Preſag’d the Fates; a wanton harlotry, True to the rower’s benches: their juſt meed Have they receiv’d. See where he lies; and ſhe, That like the ſwan warbled her dying notesr, His paranymph lies with him, to my bed Leaving the darling object of my wishes. CHORUS. No ſlow-consuming pains, to torture us Fix'd to the groaning couch, await us now; But Fate comes ruſhing on, and brings the ſleep That wakes no more. There lies the king, whoſe virtues Were truly royal. In a woman’s cauſe He ſuffer'd much; and by a woman periſh’d. Ah fatal Helen! in the fields of Troy How many has thy guilt, thy guilt alone, Stretch’d in the duſt? But now by murd'rous hands Haſt thou fluic’d out this rich and noble blood, Whoſe foul ſtains never can be purg’d. This ruin Hath discord, raging in the house, effected. CLYTEMNESTRA. Wiſh not for death; nor bow beneath thy griefs; Nor turn thy rage on Helen, as if ſhe Had drench’d the fields with blood, as ſhe alone Fatal to Greece had caus’d these dreadful ills. CHORUS. Tremendous fiend, that breatheſt thro’ this house Thy baleful ſpirit, and with equal daring Haſt ſteel’d these royal ſiſters to fierce deeds That rend my ſoul, now, like the baleful raven, Incumbent o’er the body doſt thou joy T' affright us with thy harſh and diſſonant notes! CLYTEMNESTRA. There’s ſenſe in this: now hast thou touch’d the key, Rouſing the Fury that from fire to ſon Hath bade the ſtream of blood, firſt pour'd by her, Deſcend: one ſanguine tide ſcarce roll’d away, Another flows in terrible ſucceſſion. CHORUS. And doſt thou glory in these deeds of death, This vengeance of the Fury? Thus to pride thee In ruin, and the havoc of thy house, Becomes thee ill. Ah! ’tis an higher pow’r, That thus ordains; we ſee the hand of Jove, Whose will directs the fate of mortal man. My king, my royal lord, what words can ſhow My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues! Art thou thus fall’n, caught in a cobweb ſnare, By impious murder breathing out thy life? Art thou thus fall’n, Ah the diſloyal bed! Secretly ſlaughter’d by a treach’rous hand? CLYTEMNESTRA. Thou ſay'ſt, and ſay'ſt aloud, I did this deed: Say not that I, that Agamemnon's wife, Did it: the Fury, fatal to this house, In vengeance for Thyeſtes' horrid feast, Aſſum’d this form, and with her ancient rage Hath for the children ſacrific’d the man. CHORUS. That thou art guiltleſs of this blood, what proof, What witneſs? — From the father, in his cauſe, Riſe an avenger! Stain’d with the dark ſtreams Of kindred blood fierce waves the bick’ring ſword, And points the ruthleſs boy to deeds of horror.— My king, my royal lord, what words can ſhow My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues! Art thou thus fall’n, caught in a cobweb ſnare, By impious murder breathing out thy life? Art thou thus fall’n, Ah the diſloyal bed! Secretly ſlaughter’d by a treach’rous hand? CLYTEMNESTRA. No: of his death far otherwise I deem, Nothing diſloyal. Nor with fecret guile Wrought he his murd’rous miſchiefs on this houſe. For my ſweet flowret, opening from his ſtem, My Iphigenia, my lamented child, Whom he unjustly flew, he juſtly died. Nor let him glory in the ſhades below; For as he taught his ſword to thirst for blood, So by the thirsty ſword his blood was ſhed, CHORUS. Perplex’d and troubled in my anxious thought, Amidst the ruins of this house, deſpair Hangs heavy on me. Drop by dropt no more Deſcends the ſhow’r of blood; but the wild ſſtorm In one red torrent ſhakes the ſolid walls; Whilſt vengeance, ranging thro’ the deathful ſcene, For further miſchief whets her fatal ſword. SEMICHORUS. O Earth, that I had reſted in thy boſom, E'er I had ſeen him lodg’d with thee, and ſhrunk To the brief compaſs of a ſilver urn! Who ſhall attend the rites of ſepulture? Who ſhall lament him? Thou, whoſe hand has ſhed Thy husband’s blood, wilt thou dare raiſe the voice Of mourning o’er him? Thy unhallow’d hand Renders these honours, ſhou'd they come from thee, Unwelcome to his ſhade. What faithful tongue, Fond to recount his great and godlike acts, Shall ſteep in tears his funeral eulogy? CLYTEMNESTRA. This care concerns not thee: by us he fell, By us he died; and we will bury him With no domeſtic grief. But Iphigenia, His daughter, as is meet, jocund and blythe Shall meet him on the banks of that sad ſtream, The flood of ſorrow, and with filial duty Hang fondling on her father’s neck, and kiſs him. CHORUS. Thus inſult treads on inſult. Of these things Hard is it to decide. Th’ infected ſtain Communicates th’ infection; murder calls For blood; and outrage on th’ injurious head, At Jove’s appointed time, draws outrage down. Thus, by the laws of nature, ſon ſucceeds To fire; and who ſhall drive him from the house? CLYTEMNESTRA. These are the oracles of truth. But hear me; It likes me to the genius of the race Of Plifthenesu to ſwear that what is paſt, Tho’ poor the ſatisfaction, bounds my wiſhes. Hither he comes no more: No, let him ſtain Some other house with gore. For me, ſome poor, Some ſcanty pittance of the goods contents me, Well ſatisfied that from this house I’ve driven These frantic Furies red with kindred blood. ÆGISTHUS.ÆGISTHUS, CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS. Hail to this joyful day, whoſe welcome light Brings vengeance! Now I know that the juſt Gods Look from their ſkies, and puniſh impious mortals, Seeing this man roll’d in the blood-wove woof, The tiſſue of the Furies, grateful ſight, And ſuffering for his father’s fraudful crimes. Atreus, his father, ſovereign of this land, Brooking no rival in his pow’r, drove out My father and his brother, poor Thyeſtes, A wretched exile: from his country far He wander’d; but at length return’d, and ſtood A ſuppliant before the household Gods, Secure in their protection that his blood Shou’d not diſtain the pavement. This man’s father, The ſacrilegious Atreus, with more ſhow Of courtesy than friendſhip, ſpread the feaſt, Devoting, ſuch the fair pretence, the day To hoſpitality and genial mirth: ÆGISTHUS. Then to my father in that feaſt ſerv’d up The flesh of his own ſons: their hands and feet Hack’d off before, their undiſtinguiſh’d parts He eat, without ſuſpicion eat, a food Destructive to the race. But when he knew Th' unhallow’d deed, he rais’d a mournful cry, And ſtarting up with horror ſpurn’d to the’ ground The barb’rous banquet, utt’ring many’ a curſe Of deepeſt vengeance on the house of Pelops. Thus periſh all the race of Plifthenes! And for this cauſe thou ſeeſt him fall’n, his death With juſtice I devis’d; for me he chac’d, The thirteenth son, an infant in my cradle, With my unhappy father. Nurs’d abroad, Vengeance led back my ſteps, and taught my hand From far to reach him. All this plan of ruin Was mine, reckless of what enſues; e’en death Were glorious, now he lies caught in my vengeance. CHORUS. T' imbitter ills with inſult, this, Ægiſthus, I praiſe not. Thou, of thine own free accord, Haſt ſlain this man; ſuch is thy boaſt; this plan Of ruin, which we mourn, is thine alone. But be thou well aſſur’d thou ſhalt not 'ſcape, When, rous’d to juſtice, the avenging people Shall hurl their stones with curſes on thy head. ÆGISTHUS. From thee, who laboureſt at the loweſt oar, This language, and to him that holds the helm! Thou ſhalt be taught, old man, what at thy age Is an hard leſſon, prudence. Chains and hunger, Beſides the load of age, have ſovereign virtue To phyfic the proud heart. Behold this ſightx; Does it not ope thine eyes? Reſt quiet then; Contend not with the ſtrong; there’s danger in it. CHORUS. And cou’d thy ſoſter ſex, whilſt the rough war Demands its chieftain, violate his bed, And on his firſt return contrive his death? ÆGISTHUS. No more: this ſounds th' alarm to rude complaints. The voice of Orpheus with its ſoothing notes Attracted e’en the ſavage; whilſt thy yells To rage inflame the gentle: but take heed; Dungeons and chains may teach thee moderation. CHORUS. Shalt thou reign king in Argos? Thou, whoſe ſoul Plotted this murder; whilſt thy coward hand Shrunk back, nor dared to execute the deed? ÆGISTHUS. Wiles and deceit are female qualities: The memory of my ancient enmity Had wak’d ſuſpicion. Maſter of his treaſures, Be it my next attempt to gain the people: Whome’er I find unwilling to ſubmit, Him, like an high-fed and unruly horſe Reluctant to the harness, rigor ſoon Shall tame: confinement, and her meagre comrade Keen hunger, will abate his firey mettle. CHORUS. Did not the baſeneſs of thy coward ſoul Unman thee to this murder, that a woman, Shame to her country and her country’s Gods, Muſt dare the horrid deed? But when Oreſtes, Where’er he breathes the vital air, returns, Good fortune be his guide, ſhall not his hand Take a bold vengeance in the death of both? ÆGISTHUS. Such ſince thy thoughts and words, ſoon ſhalt thou feel CHORUS. Help, ho! ſoldiers and friends; the danger’s near; Help, ho! advance in haſte with your drawn ſwords! ÆGISTHUS. My ſword is drawn: Ægisthus dares to die. CHORUS. Prophetic be thy words! We hail the omeny. CLYTEMNESTRA. Dearest of men, do not heap ills on ills: I wiſh not to exasperate, but to heal Miſfortune’s paſt: enough is giv’n to vengeance; Let no more blood be ſpilt. Go then, old men, Each to your homes; go, whilſt ye may, in peace. What hath been done the rigor of the times Compell’d, and hard neceſſity; the weight Of these afflictions, grievous as they are, By too ſevere a doom falls on our heads. Diſdain not to be taught, tho' by a woman. ÆGISTHUS. Ay; but to hear this vain, tongue-doughty babler, Laviſh of ſpeech that tempts to deſperate deeds, It moves me from the firmneſs of my temper. CHORUS. An Argive ſcorns to fawn on guilty greatneſs. ÆGISTHUS. My vengeance ſhall o’ertake thee at the last. CHORUS. Not if juſt Heav'n ſhall guide Oreſtes hither. ÆGISTHUS. An exile, I well know, feeds on vain hopes. CHORUS. Go on then, gorge with blood; thou hast the means. ÆGISTHUS. This folly, be aſſur’d, ſhall coſt thee dear. CHORUS. The craven, in her preſence, rears his creſtz. CLYTEMNESTRA. Slight men, regard them not; but let us enter, Aſſume our ſtate, and order all things well.

Potter's notes

This watchman had his ſtation aſſigned him upon the royal palace at Argos, to obſerve the ſignal which Agamemnon had promiſed to give Clytemneſtra, when Troy ſhould be taken. This ſpecularis indicatio, this information by beacons, was ſaid to have been invented by Sinon in the time of the Trojan war; but Æschylus had a poetic right to attribute it to his hero. The man, after nine years paſſed in this ſleepless poſt, had reaſon to complain of a taſk which had fixed him to the roof of Agamemnon, like a dog; not that this was a debaſing idea, that animal being the emblem of fidelity, vigilance, and ſagacious discernment of friend from enemy, as the

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the learned reader may find it accounted for in very good words by Plutarch in his Treatise on Iſis and Oſiris: they were therefore the uſual night-guards of great houſes; Alcinous in the Odyſſey had them of gold and ſilver,

Χρύσειοι δ᾽ ἑκάτερθε καὶ ἀργύρεοι κύνες ἦσαν Δῶμα φυλασσόμενοι.

One is ſurpriſed and ſorry to find the excellent Stanley interpreting ἀνδρόβελιν here by viro inſidiantem, as if this Watchman had penetrated into the horrid deſign of Clytemneſtra. He had indeed obſerved, that the houſe was not now well-ordered as of old; and he gives ſome humourous hints of the indecent conduct of the queen; but further than this his penetration reached not. Had the great ſecret been thus early diſcovered, it would have at once removed that ſuſpenſe and ſolicitude for the event, which the poet has the addreſs to keep up throughout the play, in which we ſhall ſee cause to admire his art and judgment.

For

It is generally agreed, that Troy was taken in the night; this ſupplied Euripides with the ſubject of a very pathetic ode in his Hecuba: thus Virgil,

Invadunt urbem ſomno vinoque ſepultam. Shall

The religious turn, which the poet has given to this ſimile, adds a ſolemn grace to the beautiful imagery, the vulture being ſacred to Apollo, as the god of augury, to Pan as the patron of hunters, and to Jupiter as the protector of kings.

Whirl

We receive the higheſt ideas of the civilized manners and ſocial ſenſe of the ancients, from their religious obſervation of the rights of hoſpitality; we have many inſtances of this in Homer, particularly in the interview of Glaucus and Diomede. Jupiter himſelf was the protector of these laws, hence his title of Ξένιος: to these laws Ovid alludes,

Auſus es hoſpitii temeratis advena ſacris Legitimam nuptæ ſollicitare fidem.

Helena was ſaid to have been carried off by Theſeus, before ſhe was wedded to Menelaus.

Libation

The Fates and the Furies, at whoſe rites no fire was uſed.

Preſaging

P. Brumoy, complaining of the obſcurity of this tragedy, ſays, il y a tant de métaphores, de figures, et des tours extraordinaires, qu'on ne sçauroit ſe vanter de les avoir tous démêlés. And of this ode, l'on peut bien défier toute plume Françoise de rendre ce morceau, tant il eſt defiguré et entortillé. Diſcouraging this: for how ſhall the Engliſh grey-gooſe-quill hope to give the critical reader ſatisfaction, where the plume Françoise deſpairs? Eſſayons cependant.

The Chorus, ſeized with a ſacred inſpiration, records the omen which was given to the brother kings on their march from Argos. Two eagles, the one of dark plumage, the ſtrongeſt and the ſwifteſt of the kind, the other of a ſpecies ſomewhat inferior, ſeize a pregnant hare, and bear it in their talons to the palace of Agamemnon.

The fate-foretelling Chalcas explains the omen, that the imperial eagles denote the royal brothers, and the capture of the hare their ſucceſs in taking Troy; but as the hare was pregnant, it was under the immediate protection of Diana, who, as goddeſs of the chace, was the guardian of the infant race of all animals that are feræ naturæ: this the prophet fears is an indication of the anger of that goddeſs.

This

This paſſage is very obſcure, and certainly nothing elucidated by the annotator, who ſends us to the ſparrows at Aulis for its interpretation; whereas the preciſe words of the Chorus confine us to a ſingle omen given to the kings when they were marching from the royal palace at Argos,

Μόρσιμ᾽ ἀπ᾽ ὀρνίθων Ὁδίων οἴκοις βασιλέιοις. ν. 164. Æschyl.

nor will φιλομάτοισ ὀβρικάλοισι permit us to think of unfledged birds: leaving Pauw and his adverſaries then to ſettle what he calls ineptius grammaticorum, we thankfully adopt the very beautiful image he has given us, and proceed.

“Gorg’d”

The prophet, impreſſed with the idea of the anger of Diana, invokes Apollo to appeaſe his ſiſter, that ſhe might

not

not raiſe any adverſe winds to retard the expedition, nor demand any ſacrifice of horrid and barbaric rites: by the firſt alluding to the contrary winds which afterwards detained the fleet at Aulis; by the latter, to the ſacrifice of Iphigenia.—Thus far the Chorus has recorded the prophecy of Chalcas, and with as little obſcurity as one has reaſon to expect in ſuch oracular anſwers, except in the beginning of the epode, where the text is unhappily corrupted.

Vol. II. C

Sound

The Chorus now reaſſumes its proper character, and begins this ode with a ſolemn addreſs to Jupiter, illud, quicquid eſt, ſummum, if that name were agreeable to him; for the ancients in their invocations of the Gods, were under a ſuperſtitious dread of offending them, ſhould they ſpeak to them by a name ungrateful to their ears, or omit the name moſt pleaſing to them. Him the Chorus reveres, as in him alone their anxious thoughts could find repoſe. Whoever he may be, that without this pious reverence exults in his might, he enjoys but a ſhort-lived glory,

He meets a greater, and he dies.

(The old Scholiaſt underſtands this of the Titans; a modern critic agrees with him, but at the ſame time clearly ſees that Xerxes and Darius are adumbrated.) This is a general reflection.

Feeble

On the other hand, the man, who amidſt his ſucceſſes pays his grateful vows to Jupiter, ſhall have his proſperity continued to him. Though ſometimes, when the God leads mortals to wiſdom, he effects his purpoſe by afflictions; the memory of which makes a deep impreſſion on the ſufferer, and compels him to be wise: even this is acknowledged as the effect of divine grace. This is the addreſs of the Chorus to Jupiter, ſober, manly, rational, and a fine prelude to the afflictions of Agamemnon next to be mentioned.

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The

The anger of Diana now ſhows itſelf, and the Grecian fleet is detained by adverſe winds at Aulis; the conſequence of this is briefly, but finely deſcribed; but even under this mortifying calamity the hero ſhows no impious diſcontent, accuſes no god nor man; but ſtands in a melancholy ſilence with his eyes fixed on an oppoſite iſland, and obſerving the refluent flood.

Sullen

In the midſt of this diſtreſs, the prophet declared, that the anger of the Goddeſs would not be appeaſed, nor would the winds permit the fleet to ſail out of the harbour, but by the ſacrifice of Iphigenia, the beautiful daughter of Agamemnon: the anguſh of his ſoul, and the conflicting paſſions of the father and the king, are here pathetically deſcribed, till at length the king prevails.

Utcunque ferent ea facta nepotes, Vincit amor patriæ, laudumque immenſa cupido.

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“Dreadful”

There is ſomething horrid in the ſuperſtitſion of ancient paganiſm, which often impelled even the moſt religious perſons to actions that were ſſhocking to humanity, and at the ſame time left them expoſed to infamy and puniſhment, as if they had been voluntarily guilty. It was in the Fates, that Edipus ſhould kill his father, and marry his mother; by the very methods which he took to avoid the completion of this oracle, and those the wiſeſt which human providence could ſuggeſt, he was entangled in the fatal net; yet the anger of the Gods purſued him even to ruin, and the extermination of his family. Oreſtes was commanded by Apollo to kill his mother, with threats of the ſevereſt vengeance ſhould he preſume to diſobey; but no ſooner was the deed done, than he was

Bound

was pursued by the Furies, and haunted even to distraction. So here Agamemnon has this cruel alternative proposed to him, either to appease the anger of Diana, and purchase a favourable wind by the blood of his daughter, or to see this great armament of united Greece, her heroes, and her glory, unprofitably wasted at Aulis: yet even the Chorus here, though under the influence of the strongest religious impressions, instead of extolling the hero for suffering the patriot passions to prevail over private affection, censure the deed, though acknowledged to be necessary, as audacious, mad, and unholy. But we shall see that the poet knew what he was about.

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Cou’d

The behaviour of Iphigenia is deſcribed with inimitable beauty: there is an eloquence in her actions, in her eyes, in her attitude, beyond the power of words. As ſhe had been admitted to her father’s feaſts, and accuſtomed to entertain him with her ſongs, ſhe preſumed on his fondneſs, and throwing off her maiden veil (as its colour ſignifies), ſtood in the act to ſpeak to him, but hearing his voice commanding ſilence, ſhe obeyed with meek ſubmiſſion. This is the painting of a great maſter.

Which

The Chorus obſerves a judicious ſilence with regard to what enſued: we hope however again to introduce this unfortunate and amiable lady to the acquaintance of the Engliſh reader,

But

reader. The remaining part of the ode contains only a melancholy reflection, introduced with great propriety, as a gloomy preſage of the catastrophe, even the concluding prayer for the welfare of Greece has the ſame turn.

On hearing good tidings, even though the report was uncertain, it was uſual to ſacrifice to good hope, ἐυαγγέλοισιν ἐλπίσιν. —STANLEY—and to send a share of the victims to their friends. See p. 12. 1. 13.

CLYTEM-

It was obſerved in the preface to this tragedy, that the character of Clytemneſtra is that of an high-ſpirited, cloſe, determined, dangerous woman; this character now begins to unfold itſelf. She had with deep premeditation planned the murder of her husband; he was now returning; her ſoul of courſe must at this time be full of her horrid deſign, and all her thoughts intent upon the execution of it: we have in the remaining part of this ſpeech a ſtrong proof of this; she is dark, ſententious, and even religious; ſo the Chorus underſtands

her

her words, and ſo ſhe intends they ſhould; but the very expreſſions, by which ſhe wiſhes to conceal, and does conceal her purpoſe from the Argive ſenators, by being ambiguous, and comprehending a double meaning, ſo far mark the working of her mind, as to give us an hint of what is revolving there.

Prepare

This ode, as the laſt, begins with a ſublime and manly addreſs to Jupiter, acknowledging his power, and the certainty of his judgments on the impious, though deferred for a ſeaſon.

Vol. II. D

STROPHE

These judgments had fallen in ſo conſpicuous a manner on guilty Troy, that it was impoſſible not to ſee the immediate hand of the God, and to own that no might, no riches can protect the impious from his juſt vengeance.

Yet vice has its aſſuafive charms; but the remedy is not intirely concealed, as the miſchief glares through her diſguiſe ; and as adulterate braſs is diſcovered by a proper trial, ſo is it with the wicked, who purſues his wanton ſports to the deſtruction of his country ; conſidering the ſubject, the alluſion to a boy pursuing a bird has a ſingular propriety and beauty : here the great moral récurs again, that vice ſhall not be unpuniſhed ; and the whole is applied to Paris, who, in violation of the ſacred rights of hoſpitality, bore away the wife of Menelaus. There are few paſſages in Æschylus more obſcure than this antistrophe, the tranſlator has applied all his attention to it, but prefumes not to ſay how far he has ſucceeded. The same critic, who before sent us to Aulis for a sparrow's neſt, has here discovered the firebrand of Hecuba, the prophecy of Cassandra, and the improvident care of the mother: to preſerve her ſon : but this ſurely is all a dream.

Da The

We are now prepared for an account of the departure of Helena with Paris: the diſmay of the Spartan ſeers, the affliction of the husband fixed in silent grief on the picture of his inconstant wife, then turning from it with a bursting sigh, and his dreams, that present her to his imagination in all her attractive charms, then vanish and leave him in despair, are finely imaged ; so the grief, which arose first in the house of Menelaus, and thence spread its gloom over all Greece, is well well conceived, and tends to carry on the poet's general deſign, which was to repreſent the dreadful conſequences of this fatal war.

Paris had been guilty of the moſt atrocious act of injustice to Menelaus ; all Greece had united to revenge the affront, and had choſen Agamemnon as the commander in chief of this mighty armament ; he had carried on a great and dangerous war for ten years ; was brave, wise, and juſt, had ſubverted the empire of Priam, and raiſed the military fame of his country to the highest glory ; was now returning crowned with conquest, and enriched with ſpoils, the moſt illustrious of mortal men: might we not then expect that his faithful ſenators, who loved and honoured him, ſhould have celebrated the victories of their king, and welcomed his return to Argos with pæans of joy? Instead of this, they dwell on the miſeries of the war, the unhappiness of families which, instead of their lords, had received back only their arms stained with their blood, or urns containing their ashes, the murmurs of the people, and the severe retaliation demanded for blood, even though shed in a just war: in short, all their ideas, and even their moral reflections, are gloomy and of ill presage. But the great poet knew what he was about: the character of the Chorus was sacred, their claim of inspiration had rendered it prophetic, they were not therefore to be dazzled with the vain splendor of triumphs immediately before them ; but their minds were carried forward to future events, and there every presage was dark and melancholy ; and by this judicious conduct we are further prepared for the catastrophe.

This alludes to the peſtilence in the Grecian camp, by Homer, aſcribed to Apollo as a punishment for the affront offered to his prieſt Chryſes:

Thus Chryſes pray’d: the fav’ring pow’r attends, And from Olympus' lofty tops defcends. Bent was his bow the Grecian hearts to wound; Fierce as he mov’d, his ſilver ſhafts reſound. Breathing revenge a ſudden night he ſpread, And gloomy darkneſs roll’d around his head. The fleet in view he twang’d his deadly bow, And hiſſing fly the feather’d fates below, &C. —POPE.

Mercury, as the meſſenger of the Gods, was eſteemed the patron of heralds, whoſe character therefore was always held ſacred.

The Grecians, in their ſolemn invocations of the Gods, paid this reverence to the manes of their heroes, ſuppoſing them ſtill to be the protectors of their country. Thus Xenophon repreſents Cyrus, when marching into the territories of the enemy, before he paſſed the line of diviſion, to have ſacrificed to Jupiter, and the other Gods, and, at the same time, to have invoked the heroes, the dwellers and guardians of Media; and after he had paſſed, to have again ſacrificed to the Gods, and propitiated the heroes guardians of Aſſyria. —XEN. CYR.

He not only loſt Helena, whom he had carried away, and the treaſures brought with her, but had involved his country in ruin.

Mr. Heath attributes to the Chorus the part here aſſigned to Clytemneſtra. He thinks it unbecoming the dignity of the queen, and that the Herald anſwers too familiarly: this miſtake led him into many others. The Herald’s meſſage was was directly to the queen; and as he bore a ſacred character, her dignity did not ſuffer by the conference ; neither is there any thing of diſreſpectful familiarity on his part: ancient manners permitted not the Chorus to interrupt the queen. The fifth line of p. 48 , is an evaſive anſwer: this artful woman wiſhed to appear to the Herald, and by him to be repreſented as having ſuffered much during her husband’s abſence; being aſked, By whom? She replies with an affected caution, That ſilence had been her beſt remedy. What seems to have miſled this learned critic, was his opinion that the Chorus hinted at the infamous commerce between Clytemneſtra and Ægiſtheus ; but the words on which he firſt founds his opinion, v. 555 of the original, have a very different meaning: the herald ſays, You deſire to ſee those, who have as great a deſire to ſee this country; ſhe answers , Such, that I oft have breath'd the ſecret ſigh. Mr. Heath derives another proof from the word κλύοντας, ν. 589 , which being maſculine and plural, ſhows that the Herald had been addreſſing not Clytemneſtra, but the Chorus: it rather ſhows, that this part of his diſcourſe had been addreſſed both to Clytemneſtra and the Chorus ; had he ſpoke to the Chorus only, only, he would have used the singular number, as he does twice afterwards, when the queen had left them,

Ἐκύρσας, ὥστε τοξότης ἄκρος, σκοποῦ. v. 637. Τοσαῦτ᾿ ἀκούσας, ἴσθι τ᾿ ἀληθῆ κλύων. -v. 689.

Nor is his critique on νικώμενος, tranſlated " I am convinced," better founded ; for this is a modest apology for their diftruſt of Clytemneſtra’s news, expreſſed in the last epode; to which ſhe replies ſarcastically, p. 51. 1.7. Mr. Heath finiſhes, by interpreting the 4th and 5th lines of p. 53 , as if the Chorus insinuated that Clytemneſtra had ſpoke with artful diﬃmulation what ſhe wiſhed the Herald ſhould relate to the king ; and thereby hinted at her infidelity : but the words of the original are clear and expreſs, and incapable of admitting any other ſenſe than what the tranſlation preſents. Indeed nothing could be more unhappily conceived than the opinion of these intimations from the Chorus, as it is repugnant to the whole plan and conduct of the play.

If the reader is not satisfied with Pauw's interpretation of this passage, nor with the translator's, Mr. Heath is at hand, who renders it thus, "The dews wet us, the certain destruction of our garments, making our hair like the shag of wild beasts." [GRC: I assume he is translating Heath's Latin edition?] One would imagine that this learned person had Nebuchadnezzar in his thoughts, but that the hairs of the Assyrian monarch were grown like eagles' feathers. If by ἔνθηρον τρίχα we understand the ſhaggy coverings of the tents, we shall find it a good military idea.

Of this passage Pauw honestly says, aliquid subest quod ego non intelligo. Mr. Heath disapproves the allusion, though he thinks it a proverbial expression, the grace of which is lost upon our ignorance, and says, quod nos non videmus alius forsan olim videbit. In the mean time, the translator had only one part to take, which was to supply what he thought the expreſſion wanted to render it intelligible; a part, which all the interpreters of Æschylus muſt take, reduits ſouvent a deviner, on les voit heſiter, et chercher à rendre le fens quand ils ne peuvent se former une idée exacte des mots.

Ancient ſuperſtition required that the feſtal days, inſtituted to the honour of the Gods for any ſucceſs, ſhould not be contaminated with any inauspicious word, much less with the relation of any unfortunate event : Æschylus here aſſigns the reaſon: hence the ἐυφημεῖν of the Greeks, and the favere linguis of the Latins.—STANLEY.

E 4

Fire

Pauw cenſures the poet here as inconſiſtent, the Herald having before declared it improper to profane a day ſacred to feſtal joy with ill tidings : Mr. Heath defends him, by ſaying the tidings are rather of good than of ill : but this is directly contrary to the Herald’s words, who ſpeaks of tempeſts, wrecks, bodies floating on the waves, and the anger of the Gods, as ills ; and ſuch to common underſtandings they muſt appear : indeed he ſeems apprehenſive of this, yet thinks them very proper, as these unfortunate circumstances give a preſage of the impending death of Agamemnon ; at the same time they give it an air of probability, by rendering the king more obnoxious to the treacheries of Clytemneſtra, as being returned with one ſingle ſhip, without his friends and the army. Thus Mr. Heath; but it appears by the barbarous boaſt of Clytemneſtra, after ſhe had perpetrated the horrid deed, that ſhe had planned it in ſuch a manner, at ſuch a time, and in ſuch a place, that the execution of it could not be prevented. The poet had a deeper deſign: though the dramatic unities had not their name in his time, yet they owe their exiſtence to him, and he was as ſensible, as any of his critics can be, of the impropriety of making Agamemnon appear at Argos the day after Troy was taken ; yet his plan required this, and it is ſo finely executed, that he must be a critic minorum gentium who objects to it. The whole narration of the Herald is calculated to ſoften this impropriety ; a tempeſt ſeparates the royal ſhip from the fleet, ſome God preſerves it, and Fortune, the deliverer, guides it into the harbour ; every thing is as rapid and impetuous as the genius of Æschylus, and the expreſſion is ſo carefully guarded, that no hint is given of the veſſel’s being at ſea more than one night: there are ſome ſubſequent expreſſions of the same tendency.

The general deſign of this beautiful ode is ſo clear, that it wants no elucidation : the ſober and religious moral, that breathes through the richest deſcription and most vivid colouring, gives it the highest grace and the utmoſt perfection to which poetry can aſpire. This is one of those passages where un tour vaut une pensée, et en est veritablement une: this grace, ſuch as it is, vaniſhes the moment you attempt to transfuſe it into another language.

Helena, in alluſion to her name, is here called Helenas, Helandros, Heleptolis, the deſtroyer of ſhips, the deſtroyer of men, the deſtroyer of cities : a tranſlator in ſuch a case can only catch the general idea, if he retains the particular one, the fallen star becomes only a cold jelly: happily he had here an opportunity of availing himself of the general ſuperſtitſtion of the ancients with regard to names ; the philoſophy of which opinion no Pythagorean nor Stoic, though both ſchools devoutly taught it, explained with better argument than the father of Tristram Shandy.

Nothing ſhows the good ſenſe and fine taſte of the Athenians more, than their regard to religious ſentiments, even in their public ſpectacles. Tragedy was not yet allowed to lose fight of reverence to the Gods, the love of liberty, and affection to their country, principles the moſt neceſſary to be inculcated on the people. Agamemnon could not return the gratulations of his faithful ſenators, till he had addreſſed his paternal land, and its Gods, who had led him to this war, and brought him back in ſafety. Such ſentiments would reflect honour on more enlightened ages.

The Engliſh reader will find the whole proceſs of the ancient courts of judicature, the loud-tongued pleaders, and the urns or vaſes of acquittal or condemnation, in the Furies: the vaſe, into which the ſhells of condemnation are put, is here finely called “the bloody urn, αἱματηρὸν τεῦχος.”

Virgil knew how to make a fine uſe of this noble imagery,

Faeta armis.— Scandit fatalis machina muros Illa ſubit, mediaeque minans illabitur urbi.— quater ipſo in limite portae Subſtitit, atque utero ſonitum quater arma dedere. Inſtamus

Inſtamus tamen immemores, caecique furore, Et monſtrum infelix ſacratâ ſiſtimus arce. We have nothing in our language more greatly conceived, or more finely expreſſed, than the firſt part of the ode to Fear by Mr. Collins; it is in the genuine ſpirit of Æschylus; the laſt line is maniſeſtly taken from hence, Ἅδην ἔλειξεν αἵματος τυραννικῶυ. On whom that ravening brood of fate, Who lap the blood of ſorrow, wait.

F 2

According to the ſimplicity of ancient manners, Clytemneſtra ſhould have waited to receive her husband in the houſe; but her affected fondneſs led her to diſregard decorum. Nothing can be conceived more artful than her ſpeech; but that very art ſhews, that her heart had little ſhare in it: her pretended ſufferings during his abſence are touched with great delicacy and tenderneſs; but had they been real, ſhe would not have ſtopped him here with the querulous recital: the joy for his return, had ſhe felt that joy, would have broke out firſt; this is deferred to the latter part of her addreſs; there indeed ſhe has amaſſed every image expreſſive of welcome; but her ſolicitude to aſſemble these leads her beyond nature, which expreſſes her ſtrongeſt paſſions in broken ſentences, and with a nervous brevity, not with the cold formality of a ſet harangue. Her laſt words are another inſtance of the double ſenſe which expreſſes reverence to her husband, but intends the bloody deſign with which her ſoul was agitated.

F 3

’Tis

Geryon was a king of Spain, killed by Hercules, fabled to have three bodies, becauſe he had three armies commanded by his three ſons. Clytemneſtra compares her husband to this giant, and ſays, that if he had been ſlain as often as was reported, this ſecond triple Geryon (meaning Agamemnon under that name, for it were ominous to ſpeak of the dead) might well boaſt to have received his triple veſt, meaning his three bodies, and to have died once in each form. Mr. Heath might never have heard that Geryon, though he had three bodies, died more than once; nor does Pauw ſay it; but this does not hinder Clytemneſtra from making the ſuppoſition, and nothing more is intended; the words of Æschylus are expreſs,

Ἅπαξ ἑκάστῳ κατθανὼν μορφώματι. Were

Agamemnon appears here in the moſt amiable light; he knows his dignity, and is not inſenſible to the fame which attends him as the conqueror of Aſia; but by reproving the exceſſive adulation of Clytemneſtra, he ſhows that manly firmneſs of mind, that becoming moderation, which diſtinguiſhes the ſober ſtate of the king of Argos from the barbaric pride of an Aſiatic monarch. The part, which he has to act, is ſhort, but it gives us a picture of the highest military glory, and of true regal virtue, and ſhows us that as a man he was modeſt, gentle, and humane.

This paſſage is difficult. The context is this, whilſt the root remains (meaning the husband) the branches reach to the houſe, and ſpread a ſhade over it againſt the heat of the dog-ſtar. There is an image of this nature in Caractacus far ſuperior to this of Æschylus, Hail, hallow’d oaks! — Happy foreſters, Ye, with your tough and interwiſted roots, Grasp the firm rocks ye ſprung from, and, erect In knotty hardihood, ſtill proudly ſpread Your leafy banners ’gainſt the tyrannous north, Who Roman like aſſails you. Clytemneſtra goes on, When thou art preſent at thy domeſtic hearth, thou ſpreadeſt a warmth even in the winter; and in the hottest season the husband’s preſence gives a refreshing coolneſs to the house; the firſt image is of protection, the other two of agreeableness, like this of Ovid, Solibus hibernis, aeſtivâ gratior umbrâ. The expreſſion in the original is highly metaphorical, “when Jupiter forms the wine from the unripe grape,” which means more than to denote the autumnal heat; it being no uncommon thing for an original rusticity of conception to be turned into parade and ornament. And now, having mentioned her husband under the usual epithet of the perfect (See Stanley on the Supp. v. 82. and on this place: hence their Ζεὺς τέλειος, and Ἥρη τέλεια, as presiding over marriages), she artfully addresses Jupiter, as the source of perfection, to perfect her intent: this play on the word is the ebullition of her heated imagination, impatient to execute her horrid purpose, as the opportunity was now arrived; and is another instance of that ambiguity with which this artful and determined woman took a pride in concealing her thoughts under the very words that expressed them. The learned reader is sufficiently sensible of the difficulty of this strophe; the translator understands it differently from the annotators, adhering however to Pauw's interpretation of time and place, which is supported against Mr. Heath by the two last lines. The Chorus, under the power of an immediate inspiration, in the sublimest style of poetry, is struck with visions of terror, Δεῖγμα προσατήριον, that fill his heart with presages, and compel him to utter the prophetic strain ἀκέλευσος, ἄμισθος. Indeed no hope, in which he could confide, had touched his heart since the fleet sailed from Aulis, and the troops advanced to Troy.

Now indeed I see they are returned (continues the Chorus), yet Erinnys begins the strain, without waiting for the accompagnament of the lyre. Every idea is gloomy and hopeless; yet he wishes that his fears may be vain.

In the mutable ſtate of human life, ſickness is the contiguous neighbour to health; the bark in its faireſt courſe is driven on a rock; and ſloth diſſipates the greateſt wealth: yet the whole house does not fall under the disease; the bark is not ſwallowed up by the ſea; and Jupiter has many ways to reſtore the wasted wealth.

But when man’s warm blood streams upon the ground, what charm can recall his life? Not even Æsculapius himself, whom Jupiter did not prevent through jealousy of his life-restoring art. And now, having utter’d this ominous presage of blood and death, prohibent jam cætera parcæ ſcire, the inspiration ceases, and he becomes dark and silent. This ode is conceived in the sublimest spirit of poetry, yet that is but its second excellence; it receives its first grace from propriety. As the odes in this tragedy necessarily contract an obscurity from their prophetic turn, and have been generally complained of as being almost unintelligible, the reader, it is hoped, will not be displeased at these attempts to elucidate them.

Stanley reads ἀμηνίτως, Auratus ἀμηνίτοις : Nefcio quare, ſays Pauw: Ego igitur dicam, ſays Heath; Quia non ἀμηνίως, sine irâ, Jupiter videbatur potuiſse ſtatúere Caſſandram ex reginâ ſervam in inimicorum patriæque ſuæ vaſtatorum aedibus. One ſhould be cautious in oppoſing the fine taſte of Stanley. Clytemneſtra tells Caſſandra that her office ſhould be to ſtand at the altar of Jupiter; which was the moſt honourable department that could be given to captives of rank; the Phaenislæ of Euripides were in this manner devoted to the Pythian Apollo; and Manto, the celebrated daughter of Tirefias, was ſent ſent to Delphos by Alcmaon, when he took Thebes: Jupiter therefore was gracious to Caſſandra, by thus alleviating her misfortunes.

Hercules had demanded in marriage Iole, the daughter of Eurytus king of Oechalia: the father deſired time to determine; which Hercules conſidered as a refuſal, and in revenge privately led away ſome fine horſes of the king. His ſon, Iphitus, ſuſpecting that Hercules had taken them, went to Tyrinthia in ſearch of them. Hercules took him to the top of an high tower, and bade him look around to ſee if he could diſcover them; but Iphitus not ſeeing them, Hercules ſaid that he was wrongfully accuſed, and threw the prince from the tower: being ſeized with some malady, as a punishment for this murder, and the uſual expiations not availing, he consulted the oracle of Apollo, who told him that he must publicly sell himself for a slave, and send the money arising from the sale to the children of Iphitus: his malady continuing, he went into Asia, there voluntarily suffered one of his friends to sell him, and became the slave of Omphale, daughter of Jardanus, and queen of the Meonians. M. Court de Gebelin, Allegories Orientales, p. 164.

This bad woman, we see, was capable of the generous sentiments becoming her high rank, but her ungoverned passions extinguished them all. Probably she was not the first that had descanted on the insolence of upstart wealth; certainly she is not the last, who has reason to observe of persons suddenly enriched, that they have not had their “money long enough to be gentlemen.”

Mr. Heath well observes, that the ancient Grecians called all nations, that spoke not “the sweet helladic tongue,” swallows. The last line of this speech is another instance of the double sense, where more is meant than meets the ear.

As this is the last, so is it the strongest instance of the double sense before observed; and her passion here carries it as far as could be, without endangering a discovery; She’s gone, a manifest serpent by her sting Discovered in the end, till now concealed.

The Chorus, as it became them, express themselves with tenderness and humanity to the unhappy princess: this introduces a scene the finest perhaps that Tragedy has yet known. It would be an affront to the understanding of the reader to point out the nice gradation of the prophetic fury; and that heart must be hard indeed, which does not feel the pathos.

Θρηνῳδίαι, strains of mourning, were proper only to the infernal Gods.

The free spirit of Greece breathes in this; it thought that the day, which saw a man a slave, took away half his virtues.

Oracular as the words of Caſſandra are, they ſufficiently for the preſent purpoſe expreſs the feaſt of Thyeſtes. A proper place will be found to give the full history of the houſe of Atreus.

What

This paſſage is exceedingly difficult, where the author intended no obſcurity; which ſhows the preſent reading to be corrupt. Pauw has at leaſt made ſenſe of it, which we readily embrace till a better can be found: but it is his hard fate always to be reprobated; therefore Mr. Heath refers the κροκοβάφης σταγών, which the context requires us to apply to Caſſandra, as if through the force of the prophetic fury ſhe had fallen to the ground in a trance; whereas it is the critic that is in a deliquium.

Tereus, king of Thrace, had married Procne, the daughter of Pandion king of Athens: afterwards, inflamed with luſt, he deflowered Philomela, the ſiſter of Procne, and to prevent a diſcovery cut out her tongue, and confined her in a hunting-feat in a wood; the injured lady wrought her story in the loom, and contrived to send the web to her siſter. Procne, pretending the rites of Bacchus, attended with a female train, burst open the gates of the lodge, and carried her siſter to the palace; there they killed Itys, the son of Tereus and Procne, and served him up as a feast to his father; when he had satiated his hunger, and called for his son, Procne told him what she had done; Philomela, at the same time, besmeared with blood, rushed into the room, and threw the head of Itys in his face. Tereus pursuing the siſters with his drawn sword was changed into a Lapwing, Procne into a Swallow, and Philomela into a Nightingale. Thus Ovid tells the story; but Æschylus, and after him Euripides and Sophocles, repreſent Procne as changed into the Nightingale.

CHORUS.

By this firſt baſe deed, Pauw underſtands the horrid feaſt at which Atreus entertained his brother Thyeſtes; Heath, the murder of Myrtilus, of which there is no mention by Æschylus: it relates to the adultery of Thyeſtes with his brother’s wife, the fatal cauſe of all the ſubſequent evils.

This is the finest image that ever entered a poet's imagination; the words seem incapable of any other interpretation than what is here given them; accordingly Grotius translates them thus, Heu triftia hominum fata! nam res prosperas Vel umbra facile evertat, infelicium Imaginem omnem spongiae delet mador. Only for βολᾶις, Stanley wishes to read μόλις, Pauw λωβᾶις; the translator too has his conjecture. Then comes Mr. Heath, and makes a difficulty where no one ever suspected one; he retains the obnoxious word βολᾶις, on which to build his criticism; and to our great surprize, we are suddenly entertained with a game of backgammon; if the cast be a good one, as the dice are easily overturned, so human prosperity is subverted even by a shadow: if the cast be unlucky, then a sponge wipes out the unfortunate condition of those that threw it: by γραφήν he would willingly understand the figures impressed on the sides of the dice; but as these may not so easily be wiped out with a sponge, he is well inclined to think, that it means the chalk with which the players of ancient, as well as modern times, scored their games. It is peculiarly unfortunate, that this learned person could find nothing to his purpose in Pollux, Meursius, Salmasius, and Souterius, whom he consulted on this occasion. But this is not the first time this favourite annotator put his extinguisher over the flaming spirit of Æschylus.

These words are ill understood, as alluding to the murder of Myrtilus, the supper of Thyestes, and the other horrid deeds of the house of Pelops; they refer to a melancholy observation of the Chorus in a former ode. For never with unheedful eyes, When slaughtered thousands bleed, Did the just powers of Heav'n regard The carnage of th' ensanguined plain. He

It would not be easy to account for the irreſolution of the Chorus before, but that it was in the Fates that Caſſandra ſhould never be believed, and the catastrophe was not to be prevented: we must obſerve however, that there was nothing of timidity in it, nothing that ſhows their unwillingneſs to undergo even the least danger for the fake of faving, or avenging their king: the ſpirit of Æschylus revolts at the ſuppoſition: and theſe tame old men, though the danger was now imminent to themſelves, brave the queen to her face, and even threaten her and Ægisthus with the vengeance of the ſtate: this free and manly ſpirit is well ſupported to the end.

As the ſwan, living or dying, is a very unmuſical bird, it has been the ſubject of wonder whence the idea of his melody at his death ſhould arife. Lucian is very pleasant on the occa- fion ; the κύκνειον ἆσμα became a proverb; and not only the poets, but even grave and philoſophical writers have ſuffered themselves to be led away by it. The reader, who may not be acquainted with Mr. Bryant's works, will be pleaſed to fee his very ingenious ſolution of this difficulty. "In all the places where the emigrants from Canaan, whoſe infigne was the ſwan, ſettled, they were famous for their hymns and mufic: all which the Greeks transferred to birds, and fup- poſed that they were ſwans, who were gifted with this har- mony. When, therefore, Plutarch tells us, that Apollo was pleaſed with the music of ſwans, and when Æschylus mentions their finging their own dirges, they certainly allude to Egyp- tian and Canaanitiſh priests, who lamented the death of Adon and Ofiris." Analyſis, vol. i. p. 380.-Hence our incom- parable Milton, Thammuz came next behind, Whoſe annual wound in Lebanon allur'd The Syrian damſels to lament his fate In am'rous ditties all a ſummer's day; While fmooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the ſea, ſuppos'd with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded.

As the ſwan, living or dying, is a very unmuſical bird, it has been the ſubject of wonder whence the idea of his melody at his death ſhould ariſe. Lucian is very pleaſant on the occaſion; the κύκνειον ἆσμα became a proverb; and not only the poets, but even grave and philoſophical writers have ſuffered themſelves to be led away by it. The reader, who may not be acquainted with Mr. Bryant's works, will be pleaſed to ſee his very ingenious ſolution of this difficulty. "In all the places where the emigrants from Canaan, whoſe inſigne was the ſwan, ſettled, they were famous for their hymns and muſic: all which the Greeks transferred to birds, and ſuppoſed that they were ſwans, who were gifted with this harmony. When, therefore, Plutarch tells us, that Apollo was pleaſed with the muſic of ſwans, and when Æschylus mentions their ſinging their own dirges, they certainly allude to Egyptian and Canaanitiſh prieſts, who lamented the death of Adon and Ofiris." Analyſis, vol. i. p. 380.—Hence our incomparable Milton, Thammuz came next behind, Whoſe annual wound in Lebanon allur'd The Syrian damſels to lament his fate In am'rous ditties all a ſummer's day; While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, ſuppos’d with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded.

I 2

CHORUS.

The Chorus had before compared together the deeds of these two daughters of Tyndarus: Helena had destroyed many in the fields of Troy, Clytemnestra one man, but one of such dignity, that he was equivalent to many; the comparison is here continued, that the baleful spirit which breathed through the house of Tantalus, had steeled these royal sisters to deeds of equal daring-HEATH.

Clytemnestra had said before, that the avenging Fury of Atreus had sacrificed the man for the children; the Chorus here replies, may an avenging Fury arise from the father to vindicate his cause: the words are express, and so understood by Pauw: Mr. Heath explains them by the old Fury of Atreus before mentioned: the μέλας Αρης next following is, in the language of Æschylus, the sword, and gives an obscure, but sublime prophecy of the vengeance of Orestes; Mr. Heath renders it, niger discordiæ genius, carrying its rage to such an height, as to strike horror even into him that devoured his own sons: Pauw translates it pruinam et frigus puero voraci, i. e. Oresti, præbebit: the difficulty lies in the word κεροβορῳ, and will not readily be cleared up. Mr. Heath might have spared his ungentlemanlike censures of Pauw, had he recollected that so horrid a design in Orestes as the murder of his mother, must have a natural tendency to freeze his young blood.

t. Stanley tranſlates the words ψεκας δὲ λήγει, "it ceaſes to fall drop by drop:" and ſo common ſenſe, and the common rules of criticism require that it ſhould be rendered; Mr. Heath tranſlates them by " the ſtorm ſubſides for a time;" and thereby destroys the greatness of the conception.

The relation of Plisthenes to the house of Pelops is not well made out. Hither he comes no more, means the genius of the race of Plisthenes. Some

Behold this sight. The learned Ger. Voffius objects to the conduct of this play, that Agamemnon is killed and buried with such quickness, that the actor had not breathing time given him. It appears from this passage, and several others, that the body yet lay where the murder was committed, and the funeral rites are spoken of as to be performed at some future indefinite time.

The tranſlator has rendered the word τύχην here by omen, which " in its proper ſenſe ſignifies futuræ rei ſignum, quod ex ſermone loquentis capitur. Tully says, lib. i. Divin. Pythagorei non solum voces deorum obſervarunt, sed etiam hominum, quæ vocant omina. This sort of omen was supposed to depend much upon the will of the person concerned in the event: hence the phrases, "accepit omen," "arripuit omen." This was its first and proper signification." Div. Leg.

Laviſh

On observing the different characters and qualities of Agamemnon and Aegisthus, these words of old Hamlet readily present themselves as a proper comment on the conduct of Clytemnestra. But virtue; as it never will be mov'd, Tho' lewdneſs court it in the shape of Heav'n; So lust, tho' to a radiant angel link'd, Will fate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage.—