Agamemnon

PREFACE TO THE TRILOGY.

Ir has been truly remarked by Shelley, that the jury which sits in judgment upon a poet must be composed of his peers; it must be empanelled by time from the selectest of the wise of many generations. By the verdict of this august tribunal, Aeschylus takes rank with Homer, Dante, and Shakespeare, and may justly be regarded as one of the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

As it may appear presumptuous to offer to the public a new translation of the Aeschylean trilogy, the grandest dramatic work of classical antiquity, I may perhaps be allowed to state that I have not entered upon the task altogether uninvited. On the publication of my translation of Faust, and the other masterworks of Goethe, in Bohn's Standard Library, I was strongly urged by the late Baron Bunsen to undertake the translation of the Greek dramas. I felt honoured by the proposal; and though I was not immediately impelled to act upon the suggestion, his words have dwelt in my memory, and have encouraged me to complete an arduous and very difficult undertaking.

Considerable diversity of opinion prevails respecting the propriety of employing rhymed metres as substitutes for the complex forms of classical poetry; hence it may not be inexpedient briefly to state my reasons for adopting them, as affording in my judgment the only adequate vehicle for reproducing the choral odes of the Greek dramas.

With regard to the principles which should guide the translator in the execution of his task, it is, I believe, universally recognized that a translation ought, as faithfully as possible, to reflect the original, both in spirit and in form, and that any wilful or unacknowledged deviation from it is tantamount to a breach of trust. The difficulty of rigidly applying these principles to the translation of the choral odes will be apparent when we remember that the medium through which the thought of the ancient poet has to be re-embodied differs so essentially from that of the original as to render the principle of imitation, with reference to their musical intonations, inapplicable. The futility of attempting to imitate the forms of classical poetry in a language the metres of which are governed not by Time, but by Accent, has been pointed out by Professor Newman, in the preface to his admirable translation of the Iliad, the excellence of which can only be fully appreciated by a careful comparison with the original.

An accented metre, he says, in a language loaded with consonants cannot have the same sort of sounding beauty as a quantitative metre in a highly vocalized language. It is not audible sameness of metre, but a likeness of moral genius which is to be aimed at. The translator, having thus no authoritative models to necessitate the adoption of particular forms, is at liberty, without incurring the charge of unfaithfulness, to adopt those metres, rhymed or unrhymed, which approve themselves to his judgment as most in harmony with the spirit of the original. In order to fulfil this condition, however, he must take into consideration the highly lyrical character of the choral odes, which associated themselves not only with music, but also with the choral dance.

Now, this lyrical element of ancient poetry, not admitting of translation, requires to be born anew, and for this purpose we have a most felicitous adjunct in rhyme, which, when judiciously employed, may be regarded as a musical accompaniment, pervading the choral harmonies, enhancing their beauty, and at the same time serving to mark the time.

The only possible objection to the use of an ornament so attractive and significant, and at the same time so conformable to the English language, is the notion, very generally entertained, that the exigencies of rhyme forbid faithfulness. Holding fidelity to the spirit of the original to be the cardinal virtue of a translator, I should, if this opinion were well founded, abandon rhyme without hesitation. It appears to me, however, that the objection is overstated, and that it is better to aim at the true lyrical ideal, however difficult of realization. The solution of the problem can only be worked out by experience. How far I have succeeded in combining scrupulous fidelity to the with the employment of rhyme, it is not for me to judge; metrical translation must always be a matter of compromise, and no one can be so sensitively aware of the shortcomings of a translation as the translator.

My desire to bespeak for the dramas of Aeschylus that intelligent study which is essential for their true appreciation has induced me to attempt in my introduction a very slight sketch of the progress of religious thought, as manifested through a few of the great master-works of literature and art. Poets are representative men; and poetry, under its higher aspects, may justly be regarded as the fairest flower of the age and country which gave it birth, drawing its nourishment from the deepest roots of national life, and concealing beneath its delicate petals the germs of the future. Hence every great poem requires for its elucidation, not only to be studied in connection with contemporaneous history, but also to be brought into comparison with the kindred productions of other ages and nations. New insight is thus gained into the developments of history, and the tendencies of modern thought are more clearly interpreted when brought face to face with the conceptions and aspirations of the old pagan world. If a complete history of religious development were to be given, it would of course be necessary to go back to the prior Monotheism which probably preceded the earliest Pantheistic natureworship of which we have any record, and also to investigate the links of transition from the Vedic Divinities to the ideal Personalities of Olympus. Such an inquiry would, however, exceed the scope of an introduction.

In considering the Zeus of Aschylus I have confined myself almost entirely to the conception of the Olympian king embodied in the Oresteia, leaving untouched the apparent discrepancy between the character there portrayed and that depicted in the Prometheus Bound. I agree with those critics who believe that the discrepancy is only apparent, and would vanish had we the opportunity of studying the other members of the Promethean trilogy. Critics are agreed that the Suppliants ought also to be regarded as a member of a trilogy, in association with the lost dramas of the Aegyptii and the Danaïdes. These fragmentary works can, I believe, be only satisfactorily interpreted when studied in connection with the Oresteia. The investigation would, however, necessitate a reference to the remaining dramas of Aeschylus, and must therefore be postponed to a future opportunity.

All true lovers of Art, who recognize her legitimate function as a revealer of truth, a mediator between the Finite and the Infinite, cannot fail to regret the subordinate position to which she is condemned in the present day, when she is too often regarded in the light of a mere elegant superfluity, as one of the costly adjuncts of our modern civilization. The true dignity of art has been nobly vindicated by Hegel in his celebrated work, entitled Vorlesungen über die Aesthetik. As this work is, I believe, comparatively little known in England, I have ventured to recast, with some modifications, a few of his leading ideas, and to embody them in my introduction. I refer more especially to his analysis of the Greek dramas, and to his exposition of the fundamental ideas which characterize the three great eras-the symbolical, classical, and romanticwhich mark alike the history of religion and of art. I have also availed myself of C. O. Müller's admirable dissertations on the Eumenides, together with Professor Max Müller's lectures on language, second series, and his history of ancient Sanscrit literature.

With regard to mythological lore, I am chiefly indebted to Welcker's Griechische Götterlehre, Kuhn's Herabkunft des Feuers, and also to Guigniant's Religions de l'Antiquité, translated from the German of Creuzer.

REGENT'S PARK, June 1865.

AGAMEMNON. The WATCHMAN is discovered reclining on the flat roof of the palace.

Prologue

WATCHMAN I PRAY the gods deliverance from these toils, Release from year-long watch, which, couch'd aloft On these Atreidan roofs, dog-like, I keep, Marking the stars which nightly congregate; And those bright potentates who bring to mortals Winter and summer, signal in the sky, 1What time they wane I note, their risings too. And for the beacon's token now I watch, The blaze of fire, bearing from Troy a tale, 2Tidings of capture; for so proudly hopes1 A woman's heart, with manly counsel fraught. Dew-drenched and restless is my nightly couch, By dreams unvisited, for at my side, Fear stands, in place of sleep, nor suffers me Soundly, in slumberous rest, my lids to close. Then when I think to chant a strain, or hum, (Such against sleep my tuneful counter-charm,) Moaning, I wail the sorrows of this house, Not wisely governed as in days of old. But may glad respite from these toils be mine, When fire, joy's herald, through the darkness gleams. He suddenly beholds the beacon-light and starts to his feet. Hail lamp of night, forth shining like the day, Of many a festive dance in Argos' land, Through joy at this event, the harbinger. Hurrah! Hurrah! To Agamemnon's queen, Thus with shrill cry I give th' appointed sign. That from her couch up-rising with all speed, She in the palace jubilant may lift The joyous shout, to gratulate this torch, If Ilion's citadel in truth is ta'en, As, shining forth, this beacon-fire proclaims. The joyous prelude I myself will dance, For to my lords good fortune I shall score, Now that this torch hath cast me triple six. Well! be it mine, when comes this mansion's lord, In this my hand his much-loved hand to hold ! The rest I speak not; o'er my tongue hath passed An ox with heavy tread: the house itself, Had it a voice, would tell the tale full clear ; And I, with those who know, am fain to speak, With others, who know nothing, I forget. Exit. * The figures correspond to the number of lines in the original. † The obelisks refer to the conjectural emendations of the text at the end of each drama.

Parodos

Anapaests Chorus Enter in rank and file the Chorus of ARGIVE ELDERS, each leaning on his staff; during their slow and measured advance they sing the following Ode, the conclusion of which brings them in front of the stage. Lo the tenth year rolls apace Since Priam's mighty challenger, Lord Menelas and Atreus' heir, Stalwart Atridæ,--by heaven's grace Twin-throned, twin-sceptered,-from this land A thousand sail, with Argives manned, Unmoor'd,-a martial armament, Warriors on just reprisal bent, Fierce battle clanging from their breast, Like vultures of their young bereaved, Who, for their nestlings sorely grieved, Wheel, eddying high above their nest, By oarage of strong pennons driven, Missing the eyrie-watching care Of callow fledglings ; but from heaven, Some guilt-avenging deity, Or all-retrieving Zeus, doth lend An ear attentive to the cry Of birds, shrill-wailing, sore-distrest, And doth upon the guilty send Erinys, late-avenging pest. So for the dame, by many wooed. Doth mighty Zeus, who shields the guest, 'Gainst Paris send th' Atridan brood; Struggles limb-wearing, knees earth-pressed The spear-shaft, rudely snapt in twain In war's initial battle,—these For Danaoi as for Trojans he decrees. As matters stand, they stand ; the yet to be Must issue as ordained by destiny. Nor altar fires, nor lustral rain Poured forth, nor tear-drops shed in vain, The wrath relentless can appease Of violated sanctities. But we, unhonoured, weak of frame, Excluded from that proud array, Tarry at home, and, age-oppressed, On staves our child-like strength we lean; In tender years and age, the same, Life's current feebly sways the breast; His station Ares holds no more; Decrepid Eld, with leafage hoar, No stronger than a child for war, Treadeth his triple-footed way, Like dream in daylight seen. Enter CLYTEMNESTRA, followed by a female train. The Chorus sings the following Ode as it advances to take up its usual position round the altar of ZEUS, adorned with a statue of the god. But Clytemnestra, thou, Tyndareus' daughter, Argos queen, What hath befallen ? What hast heard ? Confiding in what tidings now Sendest thou round the altar-kindling word ? Of all the gods who guard the state, Supernal, or of realms below, In heaven, or in the mart who wait, With gifts the altars glow. Now here, now yonder, doth a torch arise, Streaming aloft to reach the skies, Charmed with pure unguent's soothing spell, Guileless and suasive, from the royal cell. What here 'tis lawful to declare, What may be told proclaim; Be healer of this care Which now a lowering form doth wear, Till fawning Hope, from out the flame Of sacrifice, with gentle smile Doth sateless grief's soul-gnawing pang beguile.

While CLYTEMNESTRA offers sacrifice, the following Ode is sung by the Chorus from the altar of ZEUS.

Choral.

STROPHE. Chorus The way-side omen mine it is to sing,1 The leaders' prosperous might foreshadowing, For still my age, unquenched its natal power, Doth suasive song inspire, a heaven-sent dower, How the rapacious bird, the feathered king, Sends forth against the Teucrid land, With spear and with avenging hand, Achaia's double-thronèd Might, Accordant chiefs of Hellas' martial flower. Toward spear-poising hand, the palace near, On lofty station, manifest to sight, The bird-kings to the navy-kings appear, One black, and one with hinder plumage white ; A hare with embryo young, in evil hour, Amerced of future courses, they devour. Chant the dirge, uplift the wail! But may the right prevail!

ANTISTROPHE. Chorus Then the sagacious army-seer, aware How diverse-minded the Atridan kings, In the hare-renders sees the martial pair, And thus, the augury expounding, sings;— “Priam's stronghold in time this martial raid Captures, but first the city's store, Tho people's wealth, shall fate destroy : Now from no god may jealous ire O'ercloud the mighty curb forged against Troy,1 Marshalled for battle; for the holy Maid Is angered at the house, since of her sire The winged hounds the wretched trembler tare, Mother and young unborn, her special care; Therefore doth she the eagles' meal abhor. Chant tho dirge, uplift tho wail! But may the right prevail!

EPODE. Chorus †For she, the beauteous goddess, loves The tender whelps, new-dropped, of creatures rude, Sparing the udder-loving brood Of every beast through field or wood that roves,-- Hence with Apollo pleads the seer that he From these events fair omens will fulfil, Judging the way-side augury, Partly auspicious, partly fraught with ill. Oh ! God of healing! thee I supplicate, Let not the Huntress on the Danaï bring Dire ship-detaining blasts and adverse skies, Preluding other sacrifice, Lawless, unfestive, natal spring Of feudful jar and mortal hate, By husband-fear unawed; For child-avenging wrath, with fear and fraud, Dread palace-warden, doth untiring wait." Such woes, with high successes blent, By Fate on the twain royal houses sent, Did Calchas from the way-side auguries Bodeful proclaim :-Then consonant with these, Chant the dirge, uplift the wail! But may the right prevail!

STROPHE II. Chorus Zeus, whoe'er he be, this name If it pleaseth him to claim, This to him will I address; Weighing all, no power I know Save only Zeus, if I aside would throw In sooth as vain this burthen of distress. * The original being here in oracular style is purposely obscure, and cannot be fitly rendered otherwise in the translation. * By a harsh metaphor the Greek army is called a curb forged against Troy.

ANTISTROPHE II. Chorus Nor doth he so great of yore,1 With all-defying boldness rife, †Longer avail; his reign is o'er. The next, thrice vanquished in the strife, Hath also passed ; but who the victor-strain To Zeus uplifts, true wisdom shall obtain.

STROPHE III. Chorus To sober thought Zeus paves the way, And wisdom links with pain. In sleep the anguish of remembered ill Drops on the troubled heart; against their will Rebellious men are tutored to be wise; † A grace I ween of the divinities, Who mortals from their holy seats arraign.

ANTISTROPHE III. Chorus E'en so the elder of the twain, Achaia's fleet who swayed, No seer upbraiding, bowed, with grief suppressed, His soul to fortune's stroke ; what time the host, In front of Chalcis, tossing off the coast Of wave-vexed Aulis, lingered, sore-distressed, While store-exhausting gales their progress stayed.

STROPHE IV. Chorus Blasts, dire delay and famine in their train, And evil-anchorage, from Strymon sweep,- Ruin to mortals; with malignant power, Ruthless to ships and cordage, they Doubling the sojourn on the deep Wither the Argive flower. But to the chiefs of that array, When, than the bitter storm, the seer A cure shrieked forth, weighted with deadlier banc,- In name of Artemis,-the Atridan twain, Smiting on earth their sceptres, strove in vain To quell the rising tear.

ANTISTROPHE IV. Chorus Then thus aloud the elder chieftain cried :— " Grievous, in sooth, the doom to disobey, But grievous too if I my child must slay, My home's fair ornament, my pride, Defiling these paternal hands, E'en at the altar's side, With virgin-slaughter's gory tide. What course exempt from evil? Say, The fleet can I desert, the leaguèd bands Failing? With hot desire to crave the spell Of virgin blood, the storm that shall allay, Is just. May all be well!"

STROPHE V. Chorus Then harnessed in Necessity's stern yoke An impious change-wind in his bosom woke, Profane, unhallowed, with dire evil fraught, His soul perverting to all daring thought. For frenzy, that from primal guilt doth spring, Emboldens mortals, prompting deeds of ill; Thus, armed a woman to avenge, the king In sacrifice his daughter dared to kill; The fleet's initial rite accomplishing. * The combatants probably are Uranos, father of Kronos ; and Kronos, father of Zeus.

ANTISTROPHE V. Chorus Her prayers, her cries of " Father," her young life Were nought to those stern umpires, breathing strife: So, after prayer, her sire the servants bade, †Stooping, with steelèd hearts, to lift the maid Robe-tangled, kid-like, as for sacrifice, High o'er the altar; them he also bade, Guarding her lovely mouth, her bodeful cries, Stern curse entailing on their houses twain, With voiceless muzzles forceful to restrain.

STROPHE VI. Chorus Then letting fall her veil of saffron dye, She smote, with piteous arrow from her eye, Each murderer; while, passing fair, †Like to a pictured image, voiceless there, Strove she to speak; for oft in other days, She in her father's hospitable halls, With her chaste voice had carolled forth his praise, What time the walls Rang to the Pæan's sound, Gracing her sire, with third libation crowned.

ANTISTROPHE VI. Chorus What next befel I know not, nor relate; Not unfulfill'd were Calchas' words of fate. For justice doth for sufferers ordain To purchase wisdom at the cost of pain. Why seek to read the future? Let it go ! Since dawns the issue clear with dawning day, What boots it to forestal our date of woe ? Come weal at last! So prays, these mischiefs past, Of Apia's land this one sole guard and stay.

Episode 1

Trimeter Chorus Hail Clytemnestra! Hither am I come Thy majesty revering. For 'tis meet When the male throne is empty, that we pay To our high captain's consort honour due. If thou hast heard auspicious news, or not, That with joy-vouching hope thou lightest up The altar fires, I, as a friend, would know,- Yet shall thy silence nought unkind be deemed. CLYTEMNESTRA Joy's harbinger, be radiant Morning born From kindly, mother Night! So runs the saw. But thou of joy beyond all hope shalt hear, For Priam's city have the Argives won. Chorus How queen! through unbelief I miss thy word. CLYTEMNESTRA Troy is in Argive hands; now speak I plain? Chorus Joy, stealing o'er my heart, calls forth the tear. CLYTEMNESTRA 'Tis true, thine eye thy loyalty bewrays. Chorus Of these great tidings what the certain proof? CLYTEMNESTRA Warrant I have; -how not? or Heaven deceives me. Chorus Trusting the suasive augury of dreams? CLYTEMNESTRA The fancies of the sleep-bound soul I heed not. Chorus But hath some wingless rumour buoy'd thee up? CLYTEMNESTRA Thou chidest me as were I a young girl. Chorus But since what time was Priam's city spoiled? CLYTEMNESTRA This very night now bringing forth the day. Chorus What messenger could travel with such speed? CLYTEMNESTRA Hephaestos, a bright flash from Ida sending. Hither through swift relays of courier-flame, Beacon transmitted beacon. Ida first To the Hermæan rock on Lemnos' Isle; Thence Athos' summit, dedicate to Zeus, The third in order, caught the mighty glow. Upsoaring, bridging in its might the sea, With gathered strength, the onward speeding torch, In golden splendour, like another sun, Its message to Makistos' watch-tower sends, Who, nor delaying, nor by Sleep o'erpowered, The courier's duty faithfully discharged. The torch, far-gleaming to Euripos' stream, Gives signal to Messapios' sentinels. Firing of withered heath a giant pile, With answering blaze, they pass the message on. The stalwart flame, unwearied and undimm'd, Like a bright moon, o'erleaps Asopos' plain, And wakens, on Cithaeron's lofty crag, Another speeder of the fiery post. The warder hailing the far-journeying fire, Kindles a beacon of surpassing glow; Bounded the radiance o'er Gorgopis' lake, And reaching Aegiplanctos' mountain peak Urged on without delay the fiery chain. With vigour unimpaired they onward send, Kindled anew, a mighty beard of flame, That, flaring from afar, the headland crossed †O'erlooking Saron's gulf. Down shooting then, The blaze, alighting on Arachnæ's height, The city's nearest watch-tower, reached its goal; Thence to the roof of Atreus' son this light Darted, true scion of Idaian fire. Thus in succession, flame awakening flame Fulfilled the order of the fiery course: The first and last are victors in the race. Such is the proof, the warrant that I give Of tidings sent me by my Lord from Troy. Chorus The gods, O queen, will I invoke hereafter. But now I fain would marvel at thy words, Heard more at large so thou wouldst speak again. CLYTEMNESTRA Troy on this very day th' Achaians hold. I ween ill-blending clamour fills the town: Pour in one vessel vinegar and oil, They will not lovingly consort, I trow; So now from captives and from captors rise Two voices, telling of their twofold fate. For those, flung prostrate on the lifeless forms Of husbands and of brothers, children too, Prone on their aged sires, lamenting wail; While these, night-stragglers after toilsome fight, Keen for all viands that the city yields, Upon no order standing, but as each Hath snatched the lot of fortune, take their fill. At length from frost and skiey dews set free, They dwell in Ilion's spear-won halls, and sleep †The live-long night, unsentinelled like gods. If now the tutelary powers they fear, Who hold the conquered land, and spare their shrines, Captors, they shall not captured be in turn. But may no greedy passion seize the host To plunder things unlawful, smit with gain. A safe return has yet to be secured, And half the double course is yet to run. But guilty to the gods if come the host, Wakeful may rise the sorrows of the slain For vengeance, though no sudden ill befal. These words from me, a woman thou hast heard; But may the good in overpoise prevail ! For I of many blessings choose this joy. Chorus Like prudent man well hast thou spoken, lady. But I, on hearing of thy certain proofs, Forthwith prepare me to salute the gods, For no unworthy meed requites our toil. Exit CLYTEMNESTRA.

Stasimon 1

Anapaests Chorus Hail, sovereign Zeus, and friendly Night, Mistress of mighty glories, hail! Thou who o'er Troia's tower-crowned height, A snare so closely meshed hast flung, That none, or fully grown or young, Thraldom's huge drag-net may avail To overleap. Vast ruin captures all. Great guardian of the guest, Thee I adore ;- Wrought were those deeds at thy behest: The bow thou didst of yore 'Gainst Alexander strain, That nor the destined hour before, Nor shooting o'er the stars, in vain The shaft might fall.

Choral

STROPHE I. Chorus 'Tis Zeus who smote them, this we may aver, For easy 'tis to trace; The end he shaped as he decreed. Yet gods supernal, some declare, To sinful mortals give no heed Who trample under foot the grace Of sacred things. But such are reprobate ;- Kindred they claim with those, in heaven's despite, †Who rebel war breathe forth, transgressing right. Wealth in excess breeds mischief, and o'erturns The balance of the constant mind; No bulwark 'gainst destructive fate In riches shall that mortal find Who Justice' mighty altar rudely spurns.

ANTISTROPHE I. Chorus Frenzy's unhappy suasion, fraught with bane To hapless children, sways the will; Against the mischief cure is vain; Not hidden is the flagrant ill ;- Baleful it bursts upon the sight; Like spurious coin, his metal base Use and the touchstone bring to light, Who, boy-like, to a winged bird gives chase, And whelms his native soil in hopeless night. His orisons tho heavenly powers disclaim, But sweep to doom the sinful wight Practised in guile;-thus Paris came To Atreus' halls;-the friendly board He shamed, the consort luring from her lord.

STROPHE II. Chorus Bequeathing to her people deadly stour Of shielded hosts, of spears, and ships' array, And Ilion's ruin bearing as her dower, She through the portal swiftly took her way, Daring what none may dare;-with many a wail, The palace seers peal'd forth the tale. "Woe for the house, the house and chieftains, woe! Woe for the couch, the trace of her once true!" Wronged, yet without reproach, in speechless woe There stands he, yearning still her form to view Lost o'er the far sea-wave: his dreamy pain Conjures her phantom in his home to reign. He loathes the sculptor's plastic skill Which living grace belies; Not Aphrodite's self can still The hunger of his eyes.

ANTISTROPHE II. Chorus And dreamy fancies, coinage of the brain, Come o'er the troubled heart with vain delight; For vain the rapture, the illusion vain, When forms beloved in visions of the night, With changeful aspect, mock our grasp, and sweep On noiseless wing adown the paths of sleep. Such sorrows o'er the hearth brood evermore, And woes o'ertowering these. The warrior train Comrades in danger, steered from Hellas' shore, Leaving in Hellas' homes heart-withering pain; Full many sorrows rankle at the core. Those whom he sent each holds in ken, But to their homes return Armour and in the funeral urn, Ashes instead of men.

STROPHE III. Chorus For Ares, bartering for gold The flesh of men, the scales doth hold In battle of the spear. From Ilion, back to sorrowing friends, Rich dust, fire-purified, he sends, Wash'd with full many a tear. No living warriors greet them, but instead Urns filled with ashes smoothly spread. Groaning, each hero's praise they tell; How this excelled in martial strife; And that in fields of carnage fell, Right nobly for another's wife. Breathing such murmurs, jealous hate Doth on the Atridan champions wait. Achaians, cast in fairest mould, Ensépulchred 'neath Ilion's wall, The foughten shore now firmly hold, The hostile sod their pall.

ANTISTROPHE III. Chorus Direful the people's voice, to hate Attuned, which worketh soon or late As ban of public doom. Now o'er my spirit anxious fear Broodeth, lest tidings I should hear That night still shrouds in gloom; For blind to deeds of blood the gods are not. In Time the swarthy brood of Night With slow eclipse reverse his lot, Who Fortune reareth in despite Of Justice. Reft of succour lies The wretch once prone. Excessive praise Is bodeful ever; 'gainst men's eyes Zeus hurls his blinding rays. But may ungrudged success be mine! No city-spoiler let me be! Nor, subject to another, pine Myself in slavery.

EPODE I. Chorus Borne by the joy-announcing flame Swift through the town the tidings fly; But whether true who may proclaim, Or not a heavenly lie? For who so childish, so distraught, To warm his spirit at the beacon's glow, When other news, with evil fraught, His joy may change to woe? 'Tis woman's way the boon, ere seen, to prize; Too credulous, her fancy open lies To rumour's rapid inroad, but the fame Published by women quickly dies.

Episode 2

Trimeter Chorus Leader Soon shall we know whether the signal fires, The swift relays of courier-light be true, Or whether, dreamlike, they beguiled our minds With grateful splendour; -Yonder, from the coast, A herald comes, shaded with laurel boughs; While Clay's twin-brother, thirsty Dust, attests That neither voiceless, nor of mountain wood Kindling the blaze, will he report in smoke; No, either will his voice announce more joy, Or, but ill-omened words I deprecate. Be omens fair with fair assurance crown'd! May he who 'gainst the state breathes other prayer, First reap the fruit of his malignant thought. Enter Herald. HERALD Oh soil of Argos, oh my native land, In light of this tenth year to thee I come; While many a hope hath snapt, this one still holds, For ne'er I counted, dying here, to share Beloved sepulture in Argive soil. Now hail, O earth, bright sunlight hail, and Zeus, Supreme o'er Argos. Here the Herald salutes the statues of the gods in the orchestra. HERALD Thou too, Pythian king, With thy fell darts assailing us no more; Let it suffice that on Scamander's banks Thy mien was hostile; now, Apollo, lord, Be thou the Saviour,-be the Healer thou! Ye Gods of Council, all I now invoke, Thee, my protector Hermes, Herald dear, Whom Heralds venerate, and Heroes, ye Who sent us forth, now kindly welcome back The Argive host, poor remnant of the spear. He turns to the stage. HERALD Hail royal palace! roofs beloved, hail! Ye seats august, ye powers that front the sun, If e'er of yore, now, with those cheerful eyes Receive in state the monarch absent long, For he returns bringing in darkness light Common to you and all assembled here, King Agamemnon. Welcome, as beseems, Him who with mattock of avenging Zeus Hath Ilion razed, her under-soil uptorn. Quenched are the fanes, the altars of the gods, And of the land entire the seed is crushed. Such yoke round Troy hath Atreus' elder son Fastened: and lo! blest by the gods, he comes Of living men most worthy of renown. Nor Paris now nor his associate town Their deed may vaunt as greater than their woe Cast in a suit for rapine and for theft, His surety forfeit, he to utter doom Hath mowed his natal home. Thus Priam's sons With twofold forfeit have atoned their crime. Chorus Hail, herald of Achaia's host! HERALD All hail! So please the gods, I grudge not now to die. Chorus Love for thy father-land thy heart hath wrung! HERALD So wrung that from mine eyes fall tears of joy. Chorus Sweet the heart-sickness that o'ercame you thus. HERALD The key I lack which may thy words unlock. Chorus Smit with desire for those who longed for you. HERALD Hath Argos yearned then for the yearning host ? Chorus Ay, so that oft from darken'd soul I groaned. HERALD Whence this sad gloom, abhorrent to the host? Chorus Silence I long have held bale's safest cure. HERALD How! Aught didst fear in absence of thy lords? Chorus To die was oft my wish as whilom thine. HERALD Well ended, all is well. But, in long years, Some chances, one might say, fell happily, While others adverse were. For who, save gods, Lives through the whole of life by grief unscathed ? For should I tell of toils, of lodgment rude, Infrequent landings, vexed by dangerous surf, †What portion of the day exempt from groans? Still more abhorrent was our life ashore ;- For close to hostile walls our beds were strewn ; Dank vapours fell from heaven, while from the earth Drizzled the meadow dews,—our raiment's canker, Matting, like savage beast's, our shaggy hair. Or spake I of bird-killing winter's cold, Unbearable, from snows of Ida born ; Or summer's heat, when, stretched on noonday couch, By breeze unruffled, slept the waveless sea ? But why lament these hardships ? Past the toil! Past now and gone,-past also for the dead, Who ne'er will trouble them again to rise. Why call the spectral army-roll? and why, Living, bemoan reverses ? Nay, I claim With many a farewell to salute mischance. For us, the remnant of the Argive host, Joy triumphs, nor can Sorrow tilt the scale. Winging o'er land and sea our homeward flight. We to the sun-light well may make this boast, " The Argive host, captors at length of Troy, These spoils, an off'ring to Achaia's gods, Hang up, bright glory of their ancient shrines." Whoso these tidings hears must needs extol The city and the leaders of the host; Also the consummating grace of Zeus Due honour shall attain. My tale is told. Chorus Ungrudged surrender yield I to thy words. Age still is young enough for grateful lore. But Atreus' halls and Clytemnestra most These news concern ; me also they enrich. Enter CLYTEMNESTRA. CLYTEMNESTRA The shout of jubilee erewhile I raised, When first by night the fiery herald came, Telling of Ilion captured and o'erthrown. Then some one spake and taunting asked," Dost think Trusting the beacon-light, that Troy is sacked ? 'Tis woman's way to be elate of heart." By such bold utt'rance was my wit misprised: Yet still I sacrificed : and through the town With woman's note they tuned the joyous trill, Pæans uplifting in the gods' abodes, The while they lulled the fragrant incense-flames. And now, what need that thou shouldst tell me more ? I from the king himself the tale shall hear. With honour due, my venerated lord To welcome home, myself will hasten : for- What sight for woman sweeter than the day Which to her spouse, Heaven-shielded from the fight, Throws wide the gates? Then hither bid my lord, Beloved of Argos, to return with speed. Arriving, may he find a faithful wife, Such as he left her, watch-dog of his house, To him devoted, hostile to his foes, In all points like herself, no single seal Through these long years invaded by her hand. Pleasure, or blameful word from other man, Foreign to me as dyer's hue to brass. A boast like this, fraught as it is with truth, The lip misseems not of a high-born dame. Exit CLYTEMNESTRA. Chorus Behold! The queen herself hath tutored thee; Decorous words her clear interpreters. But tell me, Herald, touching Menelas, Doth he in safety homeward with the host Hither return, prince to his country dear ? HERALD False news were I to tell, in flatt'ring terms, Not long would friends enjoy the fair deceit. Chorus Oh, could'st thou speak auspicious words yet true! That here they sundered are is all too plain. HERALD The man is vanished from th' Achaian host; Himself and galley. No untruth I tell. Chorus Steering ahead from Troy ? or hath a storm, A common terror, snatched him from the host? HERALD Like skilful archer thou hast hit the mark; And hast in brief a mighty woe declared. Chorus Say, doth the voice of other mariners Report of him as living, or as dead ? HERALD Not one so knoweth as to speak his doom, Save the bright Sun, feeder of teeming earth. Chorus How ! Burst the tempest on the naval host Through anger of the gods ? say, what the end ? HERALD Auspicious day with ill-announcing tongue Beseems not to defile. In weal and woe Diverse the honour due unto the gods. When messenger, sad-visaged, tidings dire Of routed armies to the city bears, A common wound inflicting on the state, While many men from many homes are banned, Smit by the twofold scourge which Ares loves, Twin-speared Calamity, a gory pair :— Whoso is laden with such woes as these The pæan of the Furies well may raise. But coming to a town in jubilee, Glad messenger of safety and success, How shall I tidings mingle fair and foul, The tale unfolding of the storm that smote The Achaian host, not without wrath of Heaven ? For fire and ocean, bitter foes of yore, Sware true alliance and redeemed their pledge, Whelming Achaia's luckless armament. Then in the night foul-surging mischiefs rose : Beneath the Thracian blasts ship against ship Dashed wildly; they, sore-butted by the storm, With furious wind and stress of pelting rain, Vanished from sight, 'neath whirl of shepherd dire. And when uprose the sun's fair light, behold, The Aegean sea with flowerage overstrewn,— Corpses of Grecian men and wrecks of ships. Us, and our vessel with undamaged hull, Some god, I ween, (not mortal was the power,) Ruling the helm, hath saved, by stealth or prayer. But Saviour Fortune lighting on our ship, At moorage she nor felt the billows' strain, Nor drave against the iron-girded coast. Then safe at last, from watery Hades snatch'd, In genial daylight, still mistrusting chance, With anxious thought o'er this new grief we brooded,— Our host sore wearied, and in evil plight. And doubtless now, if any still survive, They speak of us as dead. Why should they not ? As we imagine a like fate for them. But may the best befal! For Menelas, Foremost and chief, expect him to arrive; If any sunbeam knows of him as safe, Rejoicing in the light, (through the device Of Zeus, not willing yet the race to whelm,) Good hope there is that he may yet return. Hearing this tale, know, thou the truth hast heard.

Stasimon 2

Chorus. STROPHE I. Chorus Who, oh who, with truest aim, Did the battle-wedded dame, Prize of conflict, Helen name ? Was it not one, unseen, in happy hour, Guiding his tongue with Fate-presaging power? Helen, the captor;-titled fittingly,— Captor of ships, of men, of cities, she From dainty curtained bower hath fled, By Titan zephyr borne along ; Straight in her quarrel mustered strong The shielded hunters' mighty throng, Marshalled for battle;-forth they sped, Swift on their track whose viewless oar Harbour had found on Simois' leafy shore.

ANTISTROPHE I. Chorus Wrath, with direful issue fraught, Thus to hapless Ilion brought Dear alliance, dearly bought: Requiter of the outraged festal board, And of high Zeus, tho hearth's presiding Lord ; Late vengeance wreaking on the guilty throng, Who carol jubilant tho bridal song, Which, fate-impelled, tho bridegroom's kin prolong. But aged Priam's city hoar A novel hymn doth now intone, From many a voice; with mighty groan, Woe upon Paris' bridal bed She utters ;—she who long before A dirgeful life, alas ! had led, Weeping her sons in wretched slaughter sped.

STROPHE II. Chorus So once did wight incautious rear A suckling lion, for the breast Still yearning, to the house a pest. Tame in life's early morning, dear To childhood, and by Eld caressed. Carried full oft in fondling play, Like to a babe in arms he lay; The hand with winning glances wooed, And, smit with pangs of hunger, fawned for food.

ANTISTROPHE II. Chorus But time the temper doth bewray Inherent in his race. Due meed Of gentle nurture to repay, Rending the flocks with cruel greed, Unbidden he prepares the feast, And mars with gory stain the halls. Resistless, dire, athirst for prey, The pest the menial train appals, Reared for the house by Heaven, fell Atè's priest.

STROPHE III. Chorus So came to Troia's walls, in evil hour, Spirit of breathless calm, fair pride Of riches, love's soul-piercing flower, The eyes' soft dart; but from her course aside Swerving, to wedlock bitter end she wrought. To Priam's offspring came she, mischief fraught, Evil companion, bringing evil dower. By Zeus escorted, guardian of the guest, She sped, dire Fury, bridal pest.

ANTISTROPHE III. Chorus Lives among men this saw, voiced long ago; " Success consummate breeds apace, Nor childless dies, but to the race From prosperous Fortune springeth cureless Woe." Apart I hold my solitary creed. Prolific truly is the impious deed; Like to the evil stock, the evil seed; But fate ordains that righteous homes shall aye Rejoice in goodly progeny.

STROPHE IV. Chorus †But ancient Arrogance, or soon or late, When strikes the hour ordained by Fate, Breedeth new Arrogance, which still Revels, wild wantoner in human ill; And the new birth another brood Unhallowed, in the house doth bear ;— Gorged Insolence, and, not to be withstood, Defiant Boldness, demon unsubdued ;— Swart curses twain, their parents' mien that wear.

ANTISTROPHE IV. Chorus But Justice doth the smoke-begrimèd cell Illumine with celestial sheen, And loves with honest worth to dwell. Gold-spangled palaces with hands unclean, Forsaking with averted eyes, To holy Innocence she flies. The power of wealth, if falsely stamped with praise, With homage she disdains to recognize, And to their fated issue all things sways.

Episode 3

Anapaests Enter warriors and captives; at last AGAMEMNON appears, seated on a chariot, with CASSANDRA at his side; soon after CLYTEMNESTRA, accompanied by female attendants, issues from the palace. Chorus Hail, royal lord! Stormer of Ilion, hail! Scion of Atreus! How compose my speech, How due obeisance render thee, Yet neither overshoot the mark, nor fail The goal of fitting compliment to reach ? For many men, transgressing right, there be Semblance who place above reality. To him who groans beneath affliction's smart, All men have prompt condolence; but the sting Of feignèd sorrow reaches not the heart. So men with others' joy rejoicing, bring Over their visage an enforced smile : But the discerning shepherd knows his fleck, And his unerring glance detects their guile, Who simulating love, with glozing art And watery kindness fawn, but inly mock. But thou, O King, (I speak without disguise,) In Helen's quarrel asking war's array, A mien didst wear unseemly in mine eyes, Guiding not well the rudder of thy mind, Who didst, on death-devoted men, essay Courage to urge, by sacrifice. But those who have achieved the great emprize, Not from the surface of my mind alone, I welcome now, with feelings not unkind ; And inquest made, in time shall it be known, Who of thy citizens at home the while Guarded thy state with truth, and who with guile.

Trimeters AGAMEMNON speaking from the chariot. First Argos and her tutelary gods, Who with me wrought to compass my return, And visit Priam's town with vengeance due, Justly I hail. For in this cause the gods, Swayed by no hearsay, in the bloody urn Without dissentient voice the pebbles cast, Sealing the doom of Ilion and her sons. But to the rival urn, by no hand filled, Hope only came. Smoke still uprising marks The captured city ; Atè's incense-fires Are living still, but, dying as they die, The ash sends upward costly fumes of wealth. Wherefore 'tis meet to render to the gods Memorial thanks; since round them we have east Our vengeful toils, and in a woman's cause The Argive monster, offspring of the horse, Host shield-accoutred, made its deadly leap, And Priam's city levelled to the dust, What time the Pleiades in ocean waned; So, bounding o'er the towers, of princely blood The raw-devouring lion lapped his fill. This lengthened prelude to the gods! and now Weighing the judgment ye erewhile expressed, I say the same, and am with you agreed. To few is it congenial, envy-free, To venerate the friend whom Fortune crowns. The jealous poison, lodged within the heart, Tortures with twofold pang whom it infects ; By his own griefs oppressed, the envious man Groans also to behold another's joy. Out of my proof I speak, for, well I wot, Who friendship most pretended, only were Its mirrored image, shadow of a shade. None but Odysseus, who unwilling sailed, Once harnessed, was my trusty yoke-fellow; This I affirm, be he alive or dead. But for the rest, what to the state pertains, And to the gods, a full assembly called, We'll weigh in free debate. Counsel we need. That where the state is sound, we keep it so; But where disease the healer's art requires, By kind excision, or by cautery, We shall attempt to remedy the harm. Now to my palace and my household hearth Returning, first will I the gods salute, Who forward sped me, and who lead me home; Since victory so far hath followed me, Here may she henceforth stedfastly abide! CLYTEMNESTRA Men of our city, Argive elders here, I shame not in your presence to avow My wifely temper ; bashful Fear in time From mortals dieth : not by others taught, But from myself, the wretched life I'll tell 'Twas mine to lead while this man was at Troy. First, for a woman severed from her mate, To sit forlorn at home is grievous woe, Hearing malignant murmurs manifold. One courier comes, another in his train Worse tidings brings to echo through the house ; And as for wounds, had my dear lord received As many as report kept pouring in, A net methinks had not been more transpierced. Or had he died oft as reported then, A second triple-bodied Geryon,1 †A threefold cloak of earth he must have donned,2 Enduring death in every form he wore. Thus harassed by these ever-rife reports, Full often from my neck have forceful hands Seized and untied the beam-suspended noose. And for this cause our son, pledge of our troth, Of mine and thine, stands not beside me now, As stand he should, Orestes. Marvel not, For him thy trusty spear-guest nourisheth ;1 Strophius, the Phocian, who hath me forewarned Of twofold peril, thine 'neath Ilion's wall, And next lest clamour-fostered Anarchy Hazard the plot, for 'tis with men inborn To trample further him already down. This pretext, trust me, carries no deceit. But for myself the gushing founts of grief Are all dried up, no single tear is left; Sore with late watching are my weary eyes, Weeping the fiery beacons set for thee Neglected ever. Often from my dreams Was I awakened by the tiny hum Of buzzing gnat, seeing, endured by thee, More woes than could have filled mine hour of sleep. These sorrows past, now with a heart unwrung I hail my husband, watchdog of the fold, Sure forestay of the ship; of lofty roof Pillar firm based ; Sire's sole-begotten child ; Land beyond hope looming to mariners; Day after storm most brilliant to behold; To thirsty wayfarer clear gushing spring. Sooth, sweet it is to 'scape from harsh constraint; With such addresses do I honour him. Let Envy stand aloof! for we have borne Ere this full many a woe. Now dear my lord Come from thy car; but on the ground, O King, Plant not the foot that trampled Ilion. Maidens, why tarry ye, whose duty 'tis With carpets to bespread his stepping-floor ? Swift, purple-strew his passage to a home Unlooked for, e'en as Justice may conduct; What further she decreeth with the gods, Thought, not by sleep o'ermastered, shall dispose. * Geryon, a monster represented by the poets as having three bodies and three heads, and located by them in the fabulous island of Erytheia. The capture of the oxen of Geryon was one of the twelve labours of Heracles. ‡ [Πολλὴν ἄνωθεν, τὴν κάτω γὰρ οὐ λέγω]. I agree with those critics who reject this line as spurious. * Spear-guest. The Greek word δορύξενος is explained by Plutarch, whom Bishop Thirlwall follows, as expressing the relation established when a prisoner of war dismissed on parole has honourably paid his ransom. AGAMEMNON Daughter of Leda! Guardian of my home! Such as my absence was, is now thy speech, Drawn out to ample length. With better grace My praise had come from others than from thee. And for the rest, seek not in woman's guise To pamper me, nor, gaping forth loud cries, Bow down to me, as to barbaric wight. Make not my path with tapestries bestrewn A mark for envy. To the gods belong Such signal honours ; but for mortal man, On bright-hued broidery to plant his foot, I own it, is to me not free from dread ; As mortal honour me, but not as god; Without foot-carpeting or gorgeous web, Glory resounds ; a constant mind to keep Is Heaven's best gift; him only call we blest Who ends in fair prosperity his days. If thus I bear myself I need not fear. CLYTEMNESTRA Against my settled purpose speak not thus. AGAMEMNON Deem not my sober purpose I will mar. CLYTEMNESTRA Haply thou thus to act hast vowed in fear. AGAMEMNON Final and sure my word as man e'er spake. CLYTEMNESTRA What, thinkest thou, had Priam done if victor ? AGAMEMNON Purples, I ween, he verily had trod. CLYTEMNESTRA Then stand not thou in fear of human blame. AGAMEMNON Yet hath the people's rumour mighty power. CLYTEMNESTRA Life envy-free is life unenviable. AGAMEMNON 'Tis not for woman to be fond of strife. CLYTEMNESTRA But it becomes the fortunate to yield. AGAMEMNON Does conquest in this struggle rate so high ? CLYTEMNESTRA Yield thee; thy will bend willingly to mine. AGAMEMNON If thou wilt have it so, let one with speed These buskins loosen, vassals of the foot; Lest, if with them sea-tinctured robes I tread, Some jealous eye of gods smite me from far. For much it shameth me, with wanton feet To mar this wealth of silver-purchased web. Of this enough. This stranger damsel now Kindly receive. Zeus, with propitious eye, Beholds the victor's sway with mercy crowned. For willingly none bears the captive yoke; But she, the chosen flower of many a spoil, Fair present from the host, hath followed me. But since herein I yield me to thy will, Treading on purple to my halls I go. CLYTEMNESTRA A sea there is (which who may drain ?) that breeds Abundant purple, fresh from many a shell, Precious as silver, brilliant dye of robes, Whereof, through favour of the gods, these halls May boast, O King, a store right plentiful; And poverty is stranger to our house Trampling of many garments had I vowed, Had thus the oracles our house enjoined, Ransom devising for this precious life. For while the root lives on, the leafage spreads, Screening the mansion from the dog-star's ray. So now, returning to thy household hearth, As warmth in winter doth thy presence show. And when Zeus breweth from the acrid grape Rich wine, then coolness thro' the halls is shed, Where, crowner of the home, the husband dwells. Zeus, Zeus, all-crowner, my petitions crown : Thine be the care of that which crown thou wilt. Exeunt CLYTEMNESTRA and AGAMEMNON into the palace.

Stasimon 3

Chorus. STROPHE I. Chorus Whence this dread portent, that untired Before my bodeful spirit floats ? Wherefore, unbidden and unhired, Waken these dark prophetic notes? Why sits not on my bosom's throne The direful presage to disown As riddling dream, assurance strong? Time's youth hath flown Since the stern-cables from the boats Were flung, what time the ship-borne host Marched on to Ilion from the sandy coast.

ANTISTROPHE I. Chorus After long absence their return With self-informing eyes I learn ; Yet in its depths my soul, self-taught, Chanteth Erinys' lyreless strains ; My hopes, of courage reft, depart; Not vainly throb my inmost reins ; Whirleth on eddies of dark thought My bodeful heart; Yet, against hope, the gods I pray, That, false to augury, my lay Futile may fall, with vain foreboding fraught.

STROPHE II. Chorus Never will perfect health confess Her limit sated ; though disease, Neighbour, with party-wall, against her press. Sailing with prosperous course elate, Strikes on the hidden reef man's proud estate. Then if reluctant Fear, with well-poised sling, His bales doth into ocean fling, Riseth once more the bark ; and though With evil freighted to the full, Floateth secure the lightened hull. So likewise, gift of ample worth From Zeus, the year's increase, Whose teeming harvests in the furrows grow, Quells the disease of dearth.

ANTISTROPHE II. Chorus But when on earth the crimson gore Of man hath fallen, never more May charm or spell the vanished life evoke; Hence he of old, whose mystic lore Was skilled the dead from Hades to restore, Fell, blasted by the Thunderer's warning stroke. †Now did not Fate—a heaven-sent Fate— Baffle my impulse, ere too late, Leaving behind the lagging tongue, My heart its bodeful strain had sung. But now it raves; no cheering rays My anguished spirit knows, And hopeless to unravel Fate's dark maze With fiery ardour glows.

Episode 4 Enter CLYTEMNESTRA, stepping hastily out of the palace. CLYTEMNESTRA Come thou too in, Cassandra, thee I mean; For not in wrath Zeus placed thee in our house A sharer in our lustral rites to stand, With many slaves beside his household altar. Now from this car descend; be not too proud, For e'en Alcmena's son,—so runs the tale,— Sold as a slave, endured the forceful yoke ; But if such fate befal thee, great the boon Heirs of ancestral wealth to own as lords ; For upstarts, beyond hope who fortune reap,— These reckless are and cruel to their slaves. From us thou hast what usuage warranteth. Chorus Thee in clear words she hath addressed, and thou, Meshed as thou art within the toils of Fate, Yield if thou canst; mayhap thou wilt not yield. CLYTEMNESTRA Nay, an she be not, swallow-like, possessed Of an unknown, barbaric tongue, my words, Reaching her mind, must move her to comply. Chorus Follow! She counsels for thy need the best: Be thou persuaded;—leave thy chariot-seat. CLYTEMNESTRA No leisure have I here before the gates To linger; for, beside the central hearth, The victims wait the sacrificial fire ; A favour that our fondest hope transcends. But thou, if aught wilt do of what I say, Make no delay; but if, of sense bereft, Thou canst not catch the meaning of my words, In lieu of voice, speak with barbarian hand. Chorus A clear interpreter the stranger needs : Distraught she seems, like creature newly caught. CLYTEMNESTRA Nay, she is mad ; to her distempered thoughts She listens ; from a newly-captured town She cometh here, nor knows the yoke to bear, Till quelled in foam the passion of her blood. But words I'll waste no more, thus to be scorned. Exit. Chorus But I, by pity moved, will not be wroth ; Come, wretched sufferer, this car forsake ; To Fortune yielding, hansel this new yoke.

Kommos

CASSANDRA. STROPHE I. CASSANDRA Ah me ! alas ! Gods, Earth! Apollo, O Apollo!

Trimeter Chorus Why raise for Loxias these cries of bale ? Not he the god to need the mourner's wail.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE I. CASSANDRA Ah me ! alas ! Gods, Earth! Apollo, O Apollo!

Trimeter Chorus Once more she calleth with ill-omened cry, The god who hath no part in misery.

CASSANDRA. STROPHE II. CASSANDRA Apollo, O Apollo! Thou way-god! my destroyer! Once more thou hast destroyed me utterly.

Trimeter Chorus She seems about to augur her own ills ; Heaven's breathing e'en in bonds her spirit fills.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE II. CASSANDRA Apollo, O Apollo! Thou way-god! my destroyer ! Ah, whither hast thou led me ? to what roof?

Trimeter Chorus To the Atreidan; an thou dost not know I tell thee; thou'lt not say it is not so.

CASSANDRA. STROPHE III. CASSANDRA Ah! Ah! A heaven-detested house, whose walls of yore Halters have seen, and streams of kindred gore; A human shambles with blood-reeking floor.

Trimeter Chorus Keen scented seems the stranger, like a hound ; Ay, and the blood she's tracking will be found.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE III. CASSANDRA Ah! Ah! Lo ! witnesses trust-worthy ! Vouchers dire! These babes, who weep their death-wound, faith inspire, Their roasted members eaten by their sire!

Trimeter Chorus Thy fame oracular hath reached our ear; But certes seek we now no prophet here.

CASSANDRA. STROPHE IV. CASSANDRA Alas! ye gods! What is she plotting? what new blow ? A mighty mischief plots she 'neath this roof; An unimaginable cureless woe, Unbearable to friends. Help stands aloof.

Trimeter Chorus Dark are these oracles ; the first I know ; For, them the city voucheth wholly true.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE IV. CASSANDRA Ah wretched one! The deed wilt consummate? With guile Wilt in the bath thy wedded consort cheer? How speak the issue ? Soon it will be here ;— Hand after hand is lifted. Woe the while !

Trimeter Chorus I comprehend her not; this mystic lore, These blear-eyed oracles perplex me sore.

CASSANDRA. STROPHE V. CASSANDRA Woe! woe! Look! look! What see I there? Is it, ye gods, a net of hell ? The wife herself, joint-slayer, is the snare. Now o'er the accursèd rite Let the dread brood of Night, Unglutted with the race, their chorus swell!

Chorus. STROPHE VI. Chorus What Fury 'gainst this house doth summon ? What, The shriek to raise ? Such utt’rance cheers me not. Pallid through every vein Blood to my heart doth run, Which to the battle-slain Quencheth life's sun ; But Atè comes amain.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE V. CASSANDRA Hold! hold ! Woe! woe! The heifer there Keep from the bull. In meshes fell †Of black-woofed garb entangled,-guileful snare,- Catching,—she smites him dead;- Prone in his watery bed He falls. The laver’s guileful doom I tell.

Trimeter Chorus. ANTISTROPHE VI. Chorus I boast not to be skilled in auguries, Yet mischief here I cannot but surmise.

Lyric Chorus Through spells, say, if ye know, To mortals here below, What grateful cheer is sent ? Their wordy arts from human woe Breed dark presentiment.

CASSANDRA. STROPHE VII. CASSANDRA Woe! woe! my wretched ill-starred lot! Wailing another's fate mine own I mourn ; Why hast thou led me hither, all forlorn, Unless with thee to perish ? Wherefore not ?

Trimeter. Chorus. STROPHE VIII. Chorus Thou'rt frenzied, by some god possest, And tuneless quirest forth thy doom, Like nightingale, with dusky plume Sateless of song. From heart opprest, Ceaseless her Itys, Itys, flows,1 Her life bewailing, rich alone in woes.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE VII. CASSANDRA Woe ! woe ! Clear-voicèd bird, arrayed In plumed shape, by powers divine ; * In the Odyssey (xix. 518) Penelope compares herself to Pandareos’ child, the sylvan nightingale which, in the opening spring, perched amid the dense foliage of the trees, warbles beautifully, with frequent change of key, lamenting her boy, her beloved Itylos, son of King Zethus, whom, through insensate folly, she had slain. This is the oldest form of the legend. Sweet life, unmarred by tears, is thine : But me awaits the double-edged blade.

Chorus. ANTISTROPHE VIII. Chorus Whence hast thou these prophetic throes, Rushing athwart thy soul, in vain ? Why body forth in dismal strain, Blent with shrill cries, these direful woes ? Whence cometh thus to vex thy soul Of prophecy the dark, ill-omened goal ?

CASSANDRA. STROPHE IX. CASSANDRA Oh, nuptial rite, oh, nuptial rite, Of Paris, fraught with doom ! Scamander ! whence my fathers drank, Nourished of yore upon thy bank, I throve in youthful bloom. Me now Cocytos and the streams of night To augur on their dismal shores invite.

Chorus. STROPHE X. Chorus What thought hast uttered all too clear? An infant might interpret here. Smitten within am I with gory sting, The while thy bird-like cry to hear My heart doth wring.

CASSANDRA. ANTISTROPHE IX. CASSANDRA Oh deadly coil, oh, deadly coil Of Ilion, doomed to fall ! Alas, the flower-cropping kine Slain by my father at the shrine To save her sacred wall! But cure was none : she perished ; vain the toil! I too, soul-kindled, soon shall press the soil.

Chorus. ANTISTROPHE X. Chorus This tallies with thy former strain ; Sure some ill demon smites thy brain, And falling on thee moves thee thus to tell In piteous chant thy doleful pain. The end I cannot spell.

CASSANDRA In sooth the oracle no more shall peer Forth from a veil, like newly wedded bride ; But flashing on the soul, like wind that blows Sunward, it dasheth 'gainst the orient beams A mighty surge that doth this grief o'ertop. No more through dark enigmas will I teach! And bear me witness, how in eager chase The track I scent of crimes wrought long ago. For from this roof departeth never more A choir, concordant but unmusical, To evil tuned. Ay, drunk with human blood, And by the draught made bold, within these halls Abides a rout, not easy to eject, Of sister Furies ; lodged within these walls They chant in chorus the primeval curse. Hostile to him his brother's couch who trod, In turn they tell their loathing. Have I missed, Or, like true archer, have I hit the mark? Or strolling cheat, or lying prophet am I ? Before I die, attest ye now on oath That of these halls the hoary crimes I know. Chorus And how can oath be healer of a woe Inherent in the race? Yet marvel I That, nurtured o'er the sea, thou know'st to speak Of foreign city as though native there. CASSANDRA Loxias, the seer, me with this grace endowed. Chorus How! passion-smitten was he, though a god? CASSANDRA Till now it shamed me to speak of this. Chorus True ; for who fareth well grows over-nice. CASSANDRA Love-wrestler was he, warm his favour breathed. Chorus Came ye in course to rite conjugial ? CASSANDRA Consent I gave, but cheated Loxias. Chorus Mistress already of presaging art? CASSANDRA Ay, to the townsmen all their woes I spelled. Chorus How then by wrath of Loxias unharmed ? CASSANDRA No credence won I after this offence. Chorus To us thy oracles seem all too true. CASSANDRA Woe! woe! alas! alas! ye miseries ! Of faithful augury the direful toil Racks me once more, with bodeful preludings Vexing my soul.-Seated within these halls, See, tender boys, like dreamy phantoms; children, As by their dear ones done to death, their hands Filled with their proper flesh, for nutriment; Their heart and vitals,—loathsome, piteous, meal,— Look, how they hold,-their sire has tasted, look! For these, I say, vengeance devising, waits A dastard lion, wallowing in bed; House-warden, sooth, to him that's come, my master. For the slave’s yoke, alas ! I needs must bear. The naval leader, leveller of Troy, He knows not that the fell she-dog, whose tongue Spoke words of guileful welcome, long drawn out, Like lurking Atè, will achieve his doom. Such things she dares ; the female slays the male! Her,—what detested monster may I name Aud hit the mark ?-Some basilisk, or Scylla Housing in rocks, deadly to mariners, Infuriate dam of Hades, breathing forth, Against her dearest, curse implacable ? What triumph-notes exultantly she raised, All daring one, as in the turn of fight, Feigning to gratulate his safe return ! What boots it whether I persuade or no ? The doomed must come ; ere long to pity moved, Me thou wilt own a prophet all too true. Chorus Thyestes' banquet of his children's flesh I knew and shudder at; fear takes my soul, Hearing the truth, no imaged counterfeit. The rest I heard, but follow not the track. CASSANDRA On Agamemnon dead, I say, thou'lt look. Chorus Lull, poor forlorn one, thy ill-omened tongue. CASSANDRA Yet o'er this speech no healing god presides. Chorus If be it must; but may it never be; CASSANDRA The while thou prayest, theirs it is to slay. Chorus What man deviseth this accursèd deed ? CASSANDRA Widely thy glance hath missed mine oracles. Chorus Ay, for the plotter's scheme to me is dark. CASSANDRA Yet in Hellenic speech my words are couched. Chorus So too are Pythian chants, yet hard to spell. CASSANDRA Alas ! what fire is this! It seizes me. Woe! woe! Lykeian god! Apollo! Woe! The biped lioness, that with the wolf In absence of the noble lion couched, Will me, her victim, slaughter, and as one Poison who mixeth, she my doom will add To crown her vengeance ; whetting 'gainst her lord The murderous knife, sho boasteth to exact His death, as payment for escorting me. Why longer wear this scorn-provoking gear, This wand, these wreaths prophetic round my neck ? Thee I will shatter ere myself am doomed. Hence to destruction : I will follow soon; Another, in my place, enrich with woes. Behold, Apollo’s self doth strip me bare Of the prophetic robe ; coldly he gazed, What time, in these adornments vainly tricked, To friends and enemies, with one consent, All undeserved, a laughter I became : Vagrant yclept, poor hunger-stricken wretch, A strolling mountebank, I bare it all; And now the seer (his vengeance wreaked on me The seeress) calls me to this deadly fate. My father at the altar fell, but me The slaughter-block awaiteth, smitten down By stroke relentless, reeking with hot gore. Yet not unhonoured of the gods we fall; For other champion of our cause shall come, Seed matricidal, venger of his sire. An exiled wanderer, from this land estranged, Returns, this vengeance for his friends to crown. For, lo, the gods a mighty oath have sworn, His father's prostrate form shall lead him home. But why, an alien here, pour I my wail ? When that I first have seen my Ilion fare As fared it hath, and they who won the town In sorry plight, through judgment of the gods. I'll do! I'll suffer ! I will dare to die. These gates, as gates of Hades, I adjure, One prayer I offer, " mortal be the stroke Free from convulsive throes, in easy death, While ebbs my life-blood, may I close mine eyes. Chorus Oh woman, thou most wretched and most wise; Lengthy thy speech hath been ; but if thou knowest Truly thine own sad doom, how walkest thou Like heaven-led victim, boldly to the altar ? CASSANDRA There’s no escape; brief respite, nothing more. Chorus Yet to be last is gain at least of time. CASSANDRA The day is come, small were my gain by flight. Chorus Enduring art thou, and of dauntless mind. CASSANDRA Such words none heareth from the fortunate. Chorus Yet dear to mortals is a glorious death. CASSANDRA Alas, my sire, for thee and thy brave sons! She suddenly starts back. Chorus What may this mean ? What terror drives thee back ? CASSANDRA Alas! alas! Chorus Why this alas, unless some horror scare thee? CASSANDRA Blood-reeking murder breatheth from these halls. Chorus 'Tis but the scent of victims at the hearth. CASSANDRA Nay, but such breath as issues from a tomb. Chorus No Syrian odour tell'st thou for the house. CASSANDRA Well! I will go, within these palace halls To wail mine own and Agamemnon's doom. Enough of life ! Strangers! Alas! Alas! Yet quail I not, as bird at the brake, Idly ; in death my vouchers be in this, When, in my place, woman for woman dies, And when for man ill-wedded, man shall fall. Dying, this hospitable grace I crave. Chorus Poor wretch ; Thy fateful doom my pity moves. CASSANDRA Once more I fain would speak, but not to pour Mine own funereal wail; but to the Sun, Looking my last upon his beams, I pray That my avengers pay my murderers back, Requiting me, poor slave, their easy prey. Alas, for man's estate! If Fortune smile, A shadow may o'erturn it; should she frown, A moistened sponge the picture doth destroy. More than the first this doom my pity moves. Exit into the palace.

Chorus All are of boundless weal insatiate ;— None warneth from his halls Him at whom Envy points, as rich or great, Saying, " Come here no more."— So to this man the Blessed Ones have given To capture Priam's walls ;— Home he returns, beloved of Heaven;— But must he now the blood repay Of ancient murder ; must he die, And dying expiate, With his own death, their deaths who died of yore ; Who, being mortal, this can hear, nor pray, That he were born to scathless destiny ?

Episode 5

AGAMEMNON In the palace. Woe's me ! I'm smitten with a deadly blow ! Chorus Hush! Wounded unto death who lifts this cry. AGAMEMNON Woe’s me ! Again ! a second time I'm struck. Choraphæus By the groaning of the monarch, wrought methinks is now the deed ; But together taking counsel, weave we now some prudent scheme. Chorus I. To you my counsel is to raise the cry, And to the palace call the citizens. II. To me seems best, at quickest, breaking in, To prove the deed by newly-dripping blade. III. I, this opinion sharing, give my vote For action ;-not to dally is the point. IV. 'Tis manifest; for they, thus preluding, Give to the city signs of tyranny. V. Ay, we delay ;-they, treading under foot All thoughts of dalliance, sleep not with the hand. VI. No plan I know to fashion or propose ; Against the guilty doer we must plot. VII. That view I share, for no device I know, By words, the dead man to restore to life. VIII. What! dragging on our lives, shall we obey These home-polluters? Them our leaders make? IX. That were past hearing, better far to die; For milder doom were death than tyranny. X. How ! may we not on evidence of groans Augur full surely that the man is dead ? XI. Ere we can argue, we must know the facts; Assurance differs widely from surmise. XII. This I commend, taking the general vote, Plainly to know how fareth Atreus' son. The doors of the royal palace are thrown open ; CLYTEMNESTRA is discovered standing with the axe over her shoulder. Be hind her, under a cover, are the bodies of AGAMEMNON and CASSANDRA. CLYTEMNESTRA Though much to suit the times before was said, It shames me not the opposite to speak : For, plotting against foes,—our seeming friends,- How else contrive with Ruin's wily snare. Too high to overleap, to fence them round? To me, not mindless of an ancient feud, Hath come at last this contest ;-late indeed. The deed achieved, here stand I, where I slew. So was it wrought (and this I'll not deny), That he could neither 'scape, nor ward his doom; Around him, like a fish-encircling net, This garment’s deadly splendour did I cast ;— Him twice I smote, and he, with twofold groan, His limbs relaxed ;—then, prostrate where he lay, Him with third blow I dowered, votive gift To nether Hades, saviour of the dead. Thus as he fell he chafed his soul away; And gurgling forth the swift death-tide of blood, He smites me with black drops of gory dew, Not less exultant than, with heaven-sent joy The corn-sown land, in birth-hour of the ear. For this great issue, Argive Senators, Joy ye, if joy ye can, but I exult. Nay, o'er the slain were off'rings meet, with right Here were they poured,—with emphasis of right. Such goblet having filled with cursèd ills At home,-himself on his return drains off. Chorus We marvel at thy tongue, how bold thy speech, Who o'er thy husband makest so thy vaunt. CLYTEMNESTRA As witless woman are ye proving me ; But I with steadfast heart, to you who know, Proclaim,—and whether ye will praise or blame, It recks me not,-this man is Agamemnon,- My husband, dead, the work of this right hand, Doer of righteous deed ;-so stands the case.

Chorus. STROPHE I. Chorus O woman, what earth-nurtured bane, What potion, upsent from the wind-ruffled sea, Hast tasted, that on thine own head dost heap Curses, for incense, folk-mutter'd and deep ! Hast cast off, hast slain ;— Out-cast, uncitied, thyself shalt be, Huge hate of the townsmen blasting thee. CLYTEMNESTRA Me thou dost doom to exile,-to endure The people's hate, their curse deep-muttered,-thou, Who 'gainst this man of yore hadst naught to urge. He, all unmoved, as though brute life he quenched, The while his fleecy pastures teem'd with flocks, His own child slaughtered,-of my travail throes To me the dearest, ---charm for Thracian blasts. Him shouldst thou not have chased from land and home Just guerdon for foul deed ? Stern judge thou art When me thou dost arraign ;- but, mark my words, (Nerved as I am to threat on equal terms,) If with strong hand ye conquer me, then rule;- But should the god decree the opposite, Though late, to sober sense shalt thou be schooled.

Chorus. ANTISTROPHE I. Chorus O haughty of council art thou ; — And haughtily-minded thou vauntest amain, As raveth thy mind 'neath blood-reeking fate. Calling for vengeance, glares forth on thy brow Of blood the foul stain ;— Forsaken of friends, the common hate, Death-blow with death-blow shalt expiate.

CLYTEMNESTRA This solemn sanction of mine oaths thou hearest ;— By the accomplished vengeance of my child, By Atè, by Erinyes, unto whom I slew this man,—Expectancy for me Treads not the halls of Fear, while on my hearth, Aegisthos, kind as heretofore, burns fire ;— For he of boldness is no puny shield. There prostrate lies this woman's outrager, Minion to each Chryseis under Troy. There too, this captive slave, this auguress, And this man's concubine,-this prophetess, His faithful bedfellow, who shared with him The sailor's bench. Not unrequited wrought they ; For he lies-thus. While she, in swan-like fashion, Having breathed forth her last, her dying wail, Lies here, to him a paramour, and so Adds keener relish to my sweet revenge.

Chorus. STROPHE I. Chorus Oh might some sudden Fate Not tethered to a weight Of couch-enchaining anguish, hither waft The boon of endless sleep! For our most gracious guardian slain we weep, In woman's cause of yore Full many a pang who bore, And now lies smitten by a woman's craft.

STROPHE II. Chorus Woe! frenzied Helen, woe ! Through thee alone, through one, How many souls, how many, were undone ; What havoc dire 'neath Troia thou hast wrought. * * * * *

STROPHE III. Chorus And now the cureless woe, Heirloom of blood, shed long ago, Through thee hath blossomed, causing strife Unquenchable, with husband-murder rife.

STROPHE IV. CLYTEMNESTRA Bowed beneath sorrow's weight, Invoke not deadly Fate, Nor in thine anger Helen thus arraign, As though through her, through one, Fell many a Danaan son ;— She-man-destroyer, working cureless bane!

ANTISTROPHE I. Chorus Demon, who now dost fall Ruthless on Atreus' hall Making the twin Tantalidæ thy prey, †Through women's haughty reign, Gnawing my heart, thou dost confirm thy sway. Like bodeful raven hoarse, She standeth o'er the corse, And chants exulting her discordant strain.

ANTISTROPHE IV. CLYTEMNESTRA Ay now thy speech in sooth Runs even with the truth, Calling the thrice-dread demon of this race ; For in their veins is nursed, By him, the quenchless thirst For blood ; ere pales the trace Of ancient pang, now ichor flows apace.

STROPHE V. Chorus Mighty the demon, dire his hate, Whom here thou boastest to preside ; Woe ! woe ! ill-omened praise of Fate, Baneful and still unsatisfied ! Alas! 'Tis Zeus, in will, in deed, Sole cause, sole fashioner; for say What comes to mortals undecreed By Zeus, what here, that owneth not his sway ?

STROPHE VI. Chorus Woe ! woe! King ! King! how thee shall I bewail ? How voice my heartfelt grief? Thou liest there Entangled in the spider's guileful snare; In impious death thy life thou dost exhale.

STROPHE VII. Chorus Ah me! ah me! to death betrayed, Sped by the two-edged blade, On servile couch now ignominious laid.

STROPHE VIII. CLYTEMNESTRA Dost boast as mine this deed ? Then wrongly thou dost read, †To count me Agamemnon's wife ;-not so; Appearing in the mien Of this dead monarch's queen, The ancient fiend of Atreus dealt the blow ;— Requiting his grim feast, For the slain babes, as priest, The full-grown victim now he layeth low.

ANTISTROPHE V. Chorus That thou art guiltless of this blood Who will attest? Yet by thy side, Haply, as thy accomplice, stood The Fury who doth here preside. Through streams of kindred gore Presseth grim Ares on to claim Requital for the deed of shame The clotted blood of babes devoured of yore.

ANTISTROPHE VI. Chorus. Woe ! woe! King ! King ! thee how shall I bewail ? How voice my heartfelt grief ? Thou liest there Entangled in the spider's guileful snare, In impious death thy life thou dost exhale. ANTISTROPHE VII. Ah me ! ah me! to death betrayed, Sped by the two-edged blade, On servile couch now ignominious laid.

CLYTEMNESTRA ANTISTROPHE VIII. By no unjust decree Perished this man, for he Through guile hath household death enacted here :— His proper child he slew, Sweet bud from me that grew, Iphigenia, wept with many a tear. Foul quittance for foul deed ;— He reaped the sword's due meed, Hence no proud boast from him let Hades hear!

Chorus STROPHE IX. Perplexed I am, bewildered sore Which way to turn; escape is vain ; Totters the house; I dread the crimson rain That with loud plashing shakes these walls; no more Falleth in niggard droppings now the gore. And bent on deed of mischief, Fate anew On other whetstones, whetteth vengeance due.

Chorus. ANTISTROPHE II. Earth! Earth! oh hadst thou been My shroud ere I my king Prone in the silver-sided bath had seen ! Who will inter him? Who his dirge shall sing? So hardy thou? Wilt thou who didst assail Thy husband's life, thyself uplift the wail ? Wilt to his shade, for the great deeds he wrought, Render a graceless grace, with malice fraught ?

ANTISTROPHE III. Chorus. With tears of honest grief Weeping the godlike chief, Above the tomb who now shall raise The funeral hymn ? Who speak the hero's praise ?

CLYTEMNESTRA STROPHE X. Not thine the task to counsel here. By us he fell: this man we slew; Ours be it to inurn him too; Borne from the palace, o'er the bier Shall sound no notes of wailing ;-no, But him, with blandishments, shall meet Iphigenia; by the rapid streams Of Acheron, his daughter, as beseems, Facing her father, shall around him throw Her loving arms, and him with kisses greet.

ANTISTROPHE IX. Chorus That taunt still answers taunt we see. Here to adjudge is hard indeed. Spoiled be the spoiler ; who sheds blood must bleed. While Zeus surviveth shall this law survive. Doer must suffer; 'tis the Fates' decree; Who from the house the fated curse may drive ? The race is welded to calamity.

CLYTEMNESTRA ANTISTROPHE X. Ay! now on Truth thou dost alight! I with the demon of this race- The Pleisthenid—an oath will plight. My doom, though grievous, I embrace. But for the rest, hence let him haste! Leaving this house, let him another race Harass with kindred murders. For myself, When from these halls blood-frenzy I have chased, Small pittance shall I crave of worldly pelf.

Enter ÆGISTHOS, arrayed in royal robes, and with armed attendants.

Trimeter ÆGISTHOS Hail, joyous light of justice-bearing day! At length I can aver that Gods supernal, Judges of men, look down on earthly woes, Beholding, in the Erinyes' woven robes, This man, thus prostrate, welcome sight to me, The wiles atoning compassed by his sire. For Atreus, Argos' ruler, this man's father, Did from the city and his home expel Thyestes, rival in the sovereignty,- My father, to be plain, and his own brother. But coming back, a suppliant of the hearth, Wretched Thyestes found a lot secure, Not doomed his natal soil with blood to stain, Here in his home: but this man's godless sire, Atreus, with zeal officious more than kind, Feigning a joyous banquet-day to hold, Served to my sire, for food, his children's flesh. Their feet indeed, the members of their hands,— Seated aloof, in higher place, he hides. Partaking of the undistinguished parts, In ignorance, Thyestes eats the food, Curse-laden, as thou seest, to the race. Discerning then the impious deed, he shrieked, And back recoiling the foul slaughter spewed. Spurning, with righteous curse, th' insulted board Dread doom he vows to the Pelopidæ ;— " So perish the whole race of Pleisthenes." Hence is it that ye see this man laid low; The righteous planner of his death am I. For me, the thirteenth child, in swathing clothes, He with my wretched sire, to exile drove. But, grown to manhood, Justice led me back, And I, although aloof, have reached this man, The threads combining of the fatal plot. Now for myself 'twere glorious to die, Seeing this man entrapped in Justice' toils. Chorus To honour insolence in guilt, Aegisthos, I know not ;—that with purpose thou didst kill This man, thou boastest; of his piteous doom Sole author thou :—I tell thee thine own head To Justice brought, be sure shall not escape The curse of stoning by the people's hand. ÆGISTHOS Plying the lowest oar, dost menace us Who from the upper benches sway the helm ? Being old thou know’st how bitter at thy years Wisdom by stern necessity to learn. But bonds and hunger-pangs, to cure the mind Of stubborn old, are skilful leeches found. Hast eyes, yet seest not this? Against the pricks Kick not, lest stumbling, thou shouldst come to grief. Chorus Woman, house-mate to him from recent war Return’d,— defiler of thy husband's bed, Death thou didst plot against this warrior chief. ÆGISTHOS These words will fountains be of bitter tears. Thy tongue the opposite to Orpheus is; For he drew all by rapture of his voice, While thou, by idle bark, dost all things stir †To hate ; — when conquered, thou wilt tamer show. Chorus Shalt thou be ruler of the Argives, thou, Who, when that thou hadst plotted this man's death, Didst courage lack to strike the blow thyself? ÆGISTHOS To spread the snare was plainly woman's part, For I, his ancient foeman, was suspect; But armed with this man's treasure, be it mine To rule the citizens. Th' unruly colt That, barley-fed, turns restive, I will bind †With heavier thong than yokes the trace-horse; —him, Darkness' grim comrade, Famine, shall see tamed. Chorus This man why didst thou not, O base of soul, Slaughter thyself? But him his wife, with thee, The land polluting, and her country's gods, Hath slain. Orestes, sees he still the light, That, home-returning with auspicious Fate, He may, with mighty stroke, deal death to both ?

Trochaic ÆGISTHOS Since thou art minded thus to act, not talk alone, know quickly. * * * * * To his attendants. Come on, my faithful body-guard, the fray is not far distant. Chorus Come on then, and with hand on hilt, his sword let each make ready. ÆGISTHOS Be well assured, with hand on hilt, to die I too refuse not. Chorus To die,—thine utterance we accept, and take as thy death-omen. CLYTEMNESTRA Dearest of husbands let us not, I pray, work further mischief. Already in our many woes reaped have we wretched harvests. Of sorrow there hath been enough ; let us forbear more bloodshed. Go thou, and ye too aged men, seek your appointed mansions, Ere aught ye do to work mischance. As fate enjoined we’ve acted. If trouble is the lot of man, enough have we encountered ; Sore smitten by the heavy hoof of some avenging demon. Thus ye a woman's counsel have, if any deign to hearken. ÆGISTHOS To think that their vain tongue 'gainst me into such speech should blossom;- That they should hurl forth words like these, their proper doom, thus tempting : They against sober reason err, thus to insult their ruler. Chorus Upon the evil man to fawn is not the wont of Argives. ÆGISTHOS But, be assured, some future day, I yet shall overtake you. Chorus Not so if hither to return some god should guide Orestes. ÆGISTHOS Full well I know that exiles still on hopes are wont to batten. Chorus Work as thou listest. Gorge thy fill. Stain justice. Thou canst do it. ÆGISTHOS Be sure that thou to me shalt pay the forfeit of thy folly. Chorus Be boastful and be bold, like cock beside his partner strutting. CLYTEMNESTRA These senseless barkings heed not thou ; thyself and I together, Ruling within these royal halls, will all things wisely order. Exeunt.

NOTES TO THE AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON.

My friend the translator wishing to obviate the charge of arbitrarily departing from Aeschylus, requests me to draw up a list of the conjectural emendations of the text which I have suggested. Space forbids my here justifying them. I will state them as briefly as I can. F. W. N.

VERSE 7. Omit ἀστέρας as an interpretation of δυνάστας, and read ὅταν φθίνωσιν, ἀντολάς τε τῶνδ᾽, ὁρῶ.

10, 11. Read ἐλπίζει for ἐλπίζω, and retain the infinitive κρατεῖν. Then κέαρ is nominative, and ὧδε κρατεῖν refers to the capture of Troy, get such mastery.

138. For τόσσον περ εὔφρων καλὰ . . . read— † πᾶσιν † γὰρ εὔφρων [Αρτεμίς ἐστι] καλὰ δρόσοισι λεπτοῖσιν † μαλακῶν τε * λαγῶν . . .

142. τερπνὰ [δὲ δαίμονα θέσπιν ὁ μάντις] τούτων αἰτεῖ σύμβολα κρᾶναι, δεξιὰ μὲν κατάμομφα δὲ φάσματα † κρίνων. Ιήϊον † αὖ καλέω “Παιᾶνα [θεῖον], μήτινας ἀντιπνόους Δαναοῖς χρονίας ἐχενῇδας -Ἄγρεια τεύξη, σπευδομένα θυσίαν ἑτέραν .

In 142, 146, such words as I insert seem to be deficient.

In 144 I have written κρίνων for the absurd στρούθων.

In 148 a nominative, expressive of Artemis, is deficient. I have changed ἀπλοίας, which can hardly bear the epithet ἀντιπνόους, into Ἄγρεια (huntress).

164. Read εὔξεται for the old λέξει. οὐδεν εὔξεται πρὶν ὤν· “ will not vaunt that he was aught of yore.”

175. For δέ που read γέ που, and remove the stop after σωφρονεῖν. Join ἄκοντας with σωφρονεῖν, ἦλθε with βιαίως. “ And to men, loath to learn sobriety, there cometh forcibly a grace (I trow) of deities, who sit on holy bench.” The “ grace” is the painful wisdom learned by suffering.

226. For προνωπῆ read προνωπεῖς.

233. After γραφαῖς insert [ποικίλαις]. In the antistrophe do not omit προκλύειν, but for ἐπεὶ read πῆ, and omit ἡ before λύσις. Τὸ μέλλον δὲ προκλύειν, πῆ γένοιτ' | ἂν λύσις, προχαιρέτω.

278. For ἰσχὺς read ὄσχας or ὄσχους, “ twigs” of flame ; suggested by πεύκη, the pine. In the corrupt πρὸς ἡδονὴν a verb is concealed, such as προήχμασεν, προήκρισεν, vibrated, perked forward. Προσήλασεν is possible, but was less likely to be corrupted than some rarer verb.

299. Before φλέγουσαν a whole line seems to be lost, such as [αὐγὴν κελεύουσ', ἀστραπαῖς εὐαγγέλοις] φλέγουσαν.

327. For ὡς δυσδαίμονες Blomfield well gave ὡς δ᾽ εὐδαίμονες.

365. Treading in Blomfield's steps, I attempt the corrupt passage thus— πέφανται δ' † ἐγγενὴς ἀτολμήτως "Αρη πνεόντων, μεῖζον ἢ δικαίως. φλεόντων δωμάτων ὑπερφεῦ, † τόδ' οὔτε βέλτιστόν † ἐστ' οὔτ᾽ ἀπήμαντον . . . (Τόδε, the fact of excessive abundance.)

412. For πάρεστι σιγὰς ἄτιμος ἀλοίδορος ἅδιστος ἀφεμένων ἰδεῖν: read (until we get something better)— πάρεστι σιγὰ κατ᾽ οἴμους, ἀλοίδορος, ταϊστ᾽ ἀφωμένων ἰδεῖν.

Join σιγὰ ἀφωμένων. “There is silence along (her) paths, while they grope to see things that cannot be seen.” I understand αφωμένων of Helen's ὁμηλικίη, her maids of honour. In antistrophe for Ελλάδος read Ελλᾶνος.

541. For οὐ λαχόντες, which is nonsense, read ὀλολύζοντες, οι οἰμώζοντες.

741. This very corrupt passage admits of an approximate sòlution, thus— ὕβριν, τότ᾽ ἢ τόθ᾽, ὅτε τὸ κύριον μόλῃ, † νεαροῖς † φανοῦσαν † τόκοισι δαίμονα - παντομάχαν ἀνίερον θράσος μελαι νας μελάθροισιν "Ατας, εἰδομέναν τοκεῦσιν. Vulgo, ἢ νὰ † φαόυς κότον | δαίμονά † τε † τὸν ἄμαχον ἀπόλεμον | ἀνίερον θράσος "Ατης. θράσος "Ατης is put for θράσεια "Ατη, and εἰδομένη, fem., agrees with it. If μελαίνας is correct, it seems to mean “gloomy (funereal),” and is joined with the dative μελάθροις. Then the antistrophe is omitting βίον in 749, and reading ἔδεθλα with Dindorf, &c. τὰ χρυσόπαστα δ᾽ ἔδεθλα σὺν πίνῳ χερῶν .... παλιντρόποις ὄμμασιν λιποῦσ᾽, Ὁσίαν προσέβα, . . . . (for vulg., ὅσια).

776. Adopting from Franke ἐκ θυσιῶν for ἑκούσιον, read also θρήσκοισι for θνήσκουσι, which cannot be right. Then, we get “ θράσος ἐκ θυσιῶν ἄνδρασι θρήσκοισι κομίζων. “infusing into religious men confidence from the sacrifices.”

844. Πολλὴν . . . λέγω. Schutz, if I remember, regards the line as spurious, and with good reason. Πολλὴν ἄνωθεν has come from πολλὰς ἄνωθεν just above; and he imagines a commentator to have expounded the second Geryon to be Agamemnon : τὸν κάτω γὰρ οὐ λέγει ; “ for he does not mean the Geryon below.”

994. For μοῖρα μοῖραν, which is nonsense, read μοῖρ᾽ ἄμοιρά μ' ; and compare νâες ἄναες, γάμος ἄγαμος.

1095. For μελαγκέρων, by all means read μελαγκρόκῳ, and for ἐν πέπλοισι perhaps ἐμπλακέντα.

1443. For πολύμναστον read (metri causa) πολυυμνατον, and after the word mark a hiatus of five lines. The antistrophic to πολυύμνατον is τίς ὁ θρηνήσων.

1446. For κράτος ἰσόψυχον (which is defective in metre as well as sense) read κράτος σινόψυχον, “thou establishest a soul-blighting sway by means of women.” Hermann by inserting τ' after κράτος did not improve the sense.

1476. Read, for the sense, εἶναί μ᾽ ἄλοχον [τοῦδ᾽ ὀλέτειραν], also 1480, . . . τόνδ' ἀπέτισεν [φονίαισι δίκαις]. In antistrophe omit 'Ipɩyévecav as a gloss, and read τὴν πολύκλαυτον ἀνάξια δράσας, then strophe and antistrophe become commensurate. Perhaps in 1497 doλig should be dovλí, and in 1501 δολίαν should be δούλιον, which the argument from ἀνελεύθερον seems to demand. (Indeed the metre of doλío in 1497 is not satisfactory.) Yet the argument of ovde yàp in 1501 remains obscure or strained.

1610. For ἄξει read ἔχθει, in contrast to χαρᾷ.

1618. For σειραφόρον read σειραφόρων: “ bands heavier than common harness.”