The Agamemnon of Aeschylus | Page 7

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 planted amid his people a sharp thorn.?And no God hears his prayer, or, have they heard,?The man so base-beguiled?They cast to scorn.
Paris to Argos came;?Love of a woman led him;?So God's altar he brought to shame,?Robbing the hand that fed him.
(_Helen's flight; the visions seen by the King's seers; the phantom of Helen and the King's grief._)
She hath left among her people a noise of shield and sword, A tramp of men armed where the long ships are moored;?She hath ta'en in her goings Desolation as a dower;?She hath stept, stept quickly, through the great gated Tower,
And the thing that could not be, it hath been!?And the Seers they saw visions, and they spoke of strange ill: "A Palace, a Palace; and a great King thereof:?A bed, a bed empty, that was once pressed in love:?And thou, thou, what art thou? Let us be, thou so still,?Beyond wrath, beyond beseeching,