The Agamemnon of Aeschylus | Page 7

starting, beacon after beacon

burst
In flaming message hitherward. Ida first
Told Hermes' Lemnian Rock, whose
answering sign
Was caught by towering Athos, the divine,
With pines immense--yea,
fishes of the night
Swam skyward, drunken with that leaping light,
Which swelled
like some strange sun, till dim and far
Makistos' watchmen marked a glimmering star;

They, nowise loath nor idly slumber-won,
Spring up to hurl the fiery message on,

And a far light beyond the Eurîpus tells
That word hath reached Messapion's sentinels.

They beaconed back, then onward with a high
Heap of dead heather flaming to the
sky.
And onward still, not failing nor aswoon,
Across the Asôpus like a beaming
moon
The great word leapt, and on Kithairon's height
Uproused a new relay of racing
light.
His watchers knew the wandering flame, nor hid
Their welcome, burning higher
than was bid.
Out over Lake Gorgôpis then it floats,
To Aigiplanctos, waking the wild
goats,
Crying for "Fire, more Fire!" And fire was reared,
Stintless and high, a stormy
streaming beard,
That waved in flame beyond the promontory
Rock-ridged, that
watches the Saronian sea,
Kindling the night: then one short swoop to catch
The
Spider's Crag, our city's tower of watch;
Whence hither to the Atreidae's roof it came,

A light true-fathered of Idaean flame.
Torch-bearer after torch-bearer, behold
The
tale thereof in stations manifold,
Each one by each made perfect ere it passed,
And
Victory in the first as in the last.
These be my proofs and tokens that my lord
From
Troy hath spoke to me a burning word.
LEADER.
Woman, speak on. Hereafter shall my prayer
Be raised to God; now let me only hear,

Again and full, the marvel and the joy.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Now, even now, the Achaian holdeth Troy!
Methinks there is a crying in her streets

That makes no concord. When sweet unguent meets

With vinegar in one phial, I
warrant none
Shall lay those wranglers lovingly at one.
So conquerors and conquered
shalt thou hear,
Two sundered tones, two lives of joy or fear.
Here women in the dust
about their slain,
Husbands or brethren, and by dead old men
Pale children who shall
never more be free,
For all they loved on earth cry desolately.
And hard beside them
war-stained Greeks, whom stark
Battle and then long searching through the dark
Hath
gathered, ravenous, in the dawn, to feast
At last on all the plenty Troy possessed,
No
portion in that feast nor ordinance,
But each man clutching at the prize of chance.

Aye, there at last under good roofs they lie
Of men spear-quelled, no frosts beneath the
sky,
No watches more, no bitter moony dew....
How blessèd they will sleep the whole
night through!
Oh, if these days they keep them free from sin
Toward Ilion's
conquered shrines and Them within
Who watch unconquered, maybe not again
The
smiter shall be smit, the taker ta'en.
May God but grant there fall not on that host
The
greed of gold that maddeneth and the lust
To spoil inviolate things! But half the race


Is run which windeth back to home and peace.
Yea, though of God they pass
unchallengèd,
Methinks the wound of all those desolate dead
Might waken, groping
for its will....
Ye hear
A woman's word, belike a woman's fear.
May good but conquer in the last
incline
Of the balance! Of all prayers that prayer is mine.
LEADER.
O Woman, like a man faithful and wise
Thou speakest. I accept thy testimonies
And
turn to God with praising, for a gain
Is won this day that pays for all our pain.
[CLYTEMNESTRA _returns to the Palace. The_ CHORUS _take up their position for
the Second Stasimon._
AN ELDER.
0 Zeus, All-ruler, and Night the Aid,
Gainer of glories, and hast thou thrown
Over the
towers of Ilion
Thy net close-laid,
That none so nimble and none so tall
Shall
escape withal
The snare of the slaver that claspeth all?
ANOTHER.
And Zeus the Watcher of Friend and Friend
I also praise, who hath wrought this end.

Long since on Paris his shaft he drew,
And hath aimèd true,
Not too soon falling nor
yet too far,
The fire of the avenging star.
CHORUS.
(_This is God's judgement upon Troy. May it not be too fierce! Gold cannot save one
who spurneth Justice_.)
The stroke of Zeus hath found them! Clear this day
The tale, and plain to trace.
He
judged, and Troy hath fallen.--And have men said
That God not deigns to mark man's
hardihead,
Trampling to earth the grace
Of holy and delicate things?--Sin lies that
way.
For visibly Pride doth breed its own return
On prideful men, who, when their
houses swell
With happy wealth, breathe ever wrath and blood.
Yet not too fierce let
the due vengeance burn;
Only as deemeth well
One wise of mood.
Never shall state nor gold

Shelter his heart from aching
Whoso the Altar of Justice
old
Spurneth to Night unwaking.
(_The Sinner suffers in his longing till at last Temptation overcomes him; as longing for
Helen overcame Paris._)
The tempting of misery forceth him, the dread
Child of fore-scheming Woe!
And help

is vain; the fell desire within
Is veilèd not, but shineth bright like Sin:
And as false
gold will show
Black where the touchstone trieth, so doth fade
His honour in God's
ordeal. Like a child,
Forgetting all, he hath chased his wingèd bird,
And