The Agamemnon of Aeschylus | Page 6

Aeschylus
the death of_ AGAMEMNON'S _daughter. The King's doubt and grief_.)
And winds, winds blew from Strymon River,?Unharboured, starving, winds of waste endeavour,?Man-blinding, pitiless to cord and bulwark,?And the waste of days was made long, more long,?Till the flower of Argos was aghast and withered;?Then through the storm rose the War-seer's song,?And told of medicine that should tame the tempest,?But bow the Princes to a direr wrong.?Then "Artemis" he whispered, he named the name;?And the brother Kings they shook in the hearts of them,?And smote on the earth their staves, and the tears came.
But the King, the elder, hath found voice and spoken:?"A heavy doom, sure, if God's will were broken;?But to slay mine own child, who my house delighteth,?Is that not heavy? That her blood should flow?On her father's hand, hard beside an altar??My path is sorrow wheresoe'er I go.?Shall Agamemnon fail his ships and people,?And the hosts of Hellas melt as melts the snow??They cry, they thirst, for a death that shall break the spell, For a Virgin's blood: 'tis a rite of old, men tell.?And they burn with longing.--O God may the end be well!"
(_But ambition drove him, till he consented to the sin of slaying his daughter, Iphigenia, as a sacrifice._)
To the yoke of Must-Be he bowed him slowly,?And a strange wind within his bosom tossed,?A wind of dark thought, unclean, unholy;?And he rose up, daring to the uttermost.?For men are boldened by a Blindness, straying?Toward base desire, which brings grief hereafter,?Yea, and itself is grief;?So this man hardened to his own child's slaying,?As help to avenge him for a woman's laughter?And bring his ships relief!
Her "Father, Father," her sad cry that lingered,?Her virgin heart's breath they held all as naught,?Those bronze-clad witnesses and battle-hungered;?And there they prayed, and when the prayer was wrought?He charged the young men to uplift and bind her,?As ye lift a wild kid, high above the altar,?Fierce-huddling forward, fallen, clinging sore?To the robe that wrapt her; yea, he bids them hinder?The sweet mouth's utterance, the cries that falter,?--His curse for evermore!--
With violence and a curb's voiceless wrath.?Her stole of saffron then to the ground she threw,?And her eye with an arrow of pity found its path
To each man's heart that slew:?A face in a picture, striving amazedly;?The little maid who danced at her father's board,?The innocent voice man's love came never nigh,?Who joined to his her little paean-cry
When the third cup was poured....
What came thereafter I saw not neither tell.?But the craft of Calchas failed not.--'Tis written, He?Who Suffereth Shall Learn; the law holdeth well.
And that which is to be,?Ye will know at last; why weep before the hour??For come it shall, as out of darkness dawn.?Only may good from all this evil flower;?So prays this Heart of Argos, this frail tower
Guarding the land alone.
[_As they cease,_ CLYTEMNESTRA _comes from the Palace with Attendants. She has finished her prayer and sacrifice, and is now wrought up to face the meeting with her husband. The Leader approaches her_.
LEADER.
Before thy state, O Queen, I bow mine eyes.?'Tis written, when the man's throne empty lies,?The woman shall be honoured.--Hast thou heard?Some tiding sure? Or is it Hope, hath stirred?To fire these altars? Dearly though we seek?To learn, 'tis thine to speak or not to speak.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Glad-voiced, the old saw telleth, comes this morn,?The Star-child of a dancing midnight born,?And beareth to thine ear a word of joy?Beyond all hope: the Greek hath taken Troy.
LEADER.
How??Thy word flies past me, being incredible.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Ilion is ours. No riddling tale I tell.
LEADER.
Such joy comes knocking at the gate of tears.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Aye, 'tis a faithful heart that eye declares.
LEADER.
What warrant hast thou? Is there proof of this?
CLYTEMNESTRA.
There is; unless a God hath lied there is.
LEADER.
Some dream-shape came to thee in speaking guise?
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Who deemeth me a dupe of drowsing eyes?
LEADER.
Some word within that hovereth without wings?
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Am I a child to hearken to such things?
LEADER.
Troy fallen?--But how long? When fell she, say?
CLYTEMNESTRA.
The very night that mothered this new day.
LEADER.
And who of heralds with such fury came?
CLYTEMNESTRA.
A Fire-god, from Mount Ida scattering flame.?Whence 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 Eur?pus 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 As?pus 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 Gorg?pis then it floats,?To Aigiplanctos, waking the wild
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