Story of Orestes | Page 4

{248}
EPISODE I
The Ritual on the Stage being now concluded, Clytaemnestra advances
to the front. At the same moment the Choral Ode is finished and the
Chorus take up their usual position during the Episodes, drawn up in
two lilies in front of the Altar facing the Stage. They speak only by their
Foreman (or Corypliceus), and use the ordinary Iambic Metre
(equivalent to our Blank Verse).
The Foreman of the Chorus repeats his enquiries of Clytaemnestra as to
the meaning of this sudden rejoicing, guardedly adding that it is his
duty to pay respect to his lord's wife in his absence--Clytaemnestra
announces that Troy has been taken this last night--rapid interchange of
stichomuthic dialogue, the Chorus expressing their amazement as to
how the news could travel so fast.
Cho. What herald could arrive with speed like this? Clytaem.
Hephiestos flashing forth bright flames from Ida: Beacon to beacon
from that courier-fire Sent on its tidings; Ida to the rock Hermaean
named, in Lemnos: from the isle The height of Athos, dear to Zeus,
received A third great torch of flame, and lifted up, So as on high to
skim the broad sea's back, The stalwart fire rejoicing went its way; The
pine wood, like a sun, sent forth its light Of golden radiance to
Makistos' watch; And he, with no delay, nor unawares Conquered by

sleep, performed his courier's part. Far off the torch-light to Euripos'
straits Advancing, tells it to Messapion's guard: They, in their turn, lit
up and passed it on, Kindling a pile of dry and aged heath. Still strong
and fresh the torch, not yet grown dim, Leaping across Asôpos' plain in
guise Like a bright moon, towards Kithaeron's rock, Roused the next
station of the courier flame. And that far-travelled light the sentries
there Refused not, burning more than all yet named: And then the light
swooped o'er Gorgôpis' lake, And passing on to Aegiplanctos' mount,
Bade the bright fire's due order tarry not; And they, enkindling
boundless store, send on A mighty beard of flame, and then it passed
The headland e'en that looks on Saron's gulf Still blazing. On it swept,
until it came To Arachnaean heights, the watch-tower near; Then here
on the Atreidae's roof it swoops, This light, of Ida's fire no doubtful
heir. Such is the order of my torch-race games; One from another
taking up the course, But here the winner is both first and last; And this
sure proof and token now I tell thee, Seeing that my lord hath sent it me
from Troïa. {307}
While the Chorus are still overcome with amazement, Clytaemnestra
triumphs over the condition of Troy that morning: like a vessel
containing oil and vinegar, the conquered, bewailing their first day of
captivity over the corpses of husbands and sons, the victors enjoying
their first rest free from the chill dews of night and the sentry's
call--and all will be well, if they remember the rights of the Gods in
their sack of the city: ah! may they not in their exultation commit some
sacrilegious deed of plunder, forgetting that they have only reached the
goal, and have the return to make! If they should, the curse of those
who have perished might still awake against them [Cl. thus darkly
harping upon her secret hope that vengeance may still overtake them
for the sacrifice of her daughter.] {345}
Exit Clytaemnestra, with Attendants.
After a few words of triumph (in marching rhythm), that Zeus,
protector of host and guest, has visited the proud Trojans, and brought
them into a net of bondage that neither young nor full-grown can
overleap, the Chorus proceed to a more formal expression of their

feelings in {357}
CHORAL INTERLUDE I
breaking, as regularly in the Choral Odes, into highly Lyrical rhythms
accompanied with Music and Gesture-dance, the evolutions of which
lead them alternately to Right and Left of Orchestra and back to Altar.
Strophe I: evolutions from Altar to Right.
Yes: it is the hand of Zeus we may trace in all this! Now what will they
say who contend that the Gods care not when mortal men trample
under foot the inviolable? Troy knows better now, that once relied on
its abounding wealth: ah! moderate fortune is best for the seeker after
Wisdom; Wealth is no bulwark to those who in wantonness have
spurned the altar of the Right and Just. {375}
Antistrophe I: evolutions front Right back to Altar, rhythm as in
Strophe.
Such a man is urged on by Impulse, offspring of Infatuation, till his
mischief stands out clear, as worthless bronze stripped of its varnish.
So Paris sees now his light-hearted crime has brought his city low. He
came to the house of the Sons of Atreus, and stole a Queen away,
leaving Shame where