What day beams fairer on a woman's eyes Than this, whereon she flings the portal wide, To hail her lord, heaven-shielded, home from war?
This to my husband, that he tarry not, But turn the city's longing into joy!
Yea, let him come, and coming may he find A wife no other than he left her, true And faithful as a watch-dog to his home, His foemen's foe, in all her duties leal, Trusty to keep for ten long years unmarred The store whereon he set his master-seal.
Be steel deep-dyed, before ye look to see Ill joy, ill fame, from other wight, in me!
HERALD
'Tis fairly said: thus speaks a noble dame, Nor speaks amiss, when truth informs the boast.
(CLYTEMNESTRA withdraws again into the palace.)LEADER
So has she spoken-be it yours to learn By clear interpreters her specious word.
Turn to me, herald-tell me if anon The second well-loved lord of Argos comes?
Hath Menelaus safely sped with you?
HERALD
Alas-brief boon unto my friends it were, To flatter them, for truth, with falsehoods fair!
LEADER
Speak joy, if truth be joy, but truth, at worst-Too plainly, truth and joy are here divorced.
HERALD
The hero and his bark were rapt away Far from the Grecian fleet; 'tis truth I say.
LEADER
Whether in all men's sight from Ilion borne, Or from the fleet by stress of weather torn?
HERALD
Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light, And one short word hath told long woes aright.
LEADER
But say, what now of him each comrade saith?
What their forebodings, of his life or death?
HERALD
Ask me no more: the truth is known to none, Save the earth-fostering, all-surveying Sun.
LEADER
Say, by what doom the fleet of Greece was driven?
How rose, how sank the storm, the wrath of heaven?
HERALD
Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow's tale The day of blissful news. The gods demand Thanksgiving sundered from solicitude.
If one as herald came with rueful face To say, The curse has fallen, and the host Gone down to death; and one wide wound has reached The city's heart, and out of many homes Many are cast and consecrate to death, Beneath the double scourge, that Ares loves, The bloody pair, the fire and sword of doom-If such sore burden weighed upon my tongue, 'Twere fit to speak such words as gladden fiends.
But-coming as he comes who bringeth news Of safe return from toil, and issues fair, To men rejoicing in a weal restored-Dare I to dash good words with ill, and say For fire and sea, that erst held bitter feud, Now swore conspiracy and pledged their faith, Wasting the Argives worn with toil and war.
Night and great horror of the rising wave Came o'er us, and the blasts that blow from Thrace Clashed ship with ship, and some with plunging prow Thro' scudding drifts of spray and raving storm Vanished, as strays by some ill shepherd driven.
And when at length the sun rose bright, we saw Th' Aegaean sea-field flecked with flowers of death, Corpses of Grecian men and shattered hulls.
For us indeed, some god, as well I deem, No human power, laid hand upon our helm, Snatched us or prayed us from the powers of air, And brought our bark thro'all, unharmed in hull:
And saving Fortune sat and steered us fair, So that no surge should gulf us deep in brine, Nor grind our keel upon a rocky shore.
So 'scaped we death that lurks beneath the sea, But, under day's white light, mistrustful all Of fortune's smile, we sat and brooded deep, Shepherds forlorn of thoughts that wandered wild O'er this new woe; for smitten was our host, And lost as ashes scattered from the pyre.
Of whom if any draw his life-breath yet, Be well assured, he deems of us as dead, As we of him no other fate forebode.
But heaven save all! If Menelaus live, He will not tarry, but will surely come:
Therefore if anywhere the high sun's ray Descries him upon earth, preserved by Zeus, Who wills not yet to wipe his race away, Hope still there is that homeward he may wend.
Enough-thou hast the truth unto the end.
(The HERALD departs.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1
Say, from whose lips the presage fell?
Who read the future all too well, And named her, in her natal hour, Helen, the bride with war for dower 'Twas one of the Invisible, Guiding his tongue with prescient power.
On fleet, and host, and citadel, War, sprung from her, and death did lour, When from the bride-bed's fine-spun veil She to the Zephyr spread her sail.
Strong blew the breeze-the surge closed oer The cloven track of keel and oar, But while she fled, there drove along, Fast in her wake, a mighty throng-Athirst for blood, athirst for war, Forward in fell pursuit they sprung, Then leapt on Simois' bank ashore, The leafy coppices among-No rangers, they, of wood and field, But huntsmen of the sword and shield.
antistrophe 1
Heaven's jealousy, that works its will, Sped thus on Troy its destined ill, Well named, at once, the Bride and Bane;And loud rang out the bridal strain;
But they to whom that song befell Did turn anon to tears again;Zeus tarries, but avenges still The husband's wrong, the household's stain!
He, the hearth's lord, brooks not to see Its outraged hospitality.
Even now, and in far other tone, Troy chants her dirge of mighty moan, Woe upon Paris, woe and hate!
Who wooed his country's doom for mate-
This is the burthen of the groan, Wherewith she wails disconsolate The blood, so many of her own Have poured in vain, to fend her fate;Troy! thou hast fed and freed to roam A lion-cub within thy home!
strophe 2
A suckling creature, newly ta'en From mother's teat, still fully fain Of nursing care; and oft caressed, Within the arms, upon the breast, Even as an infant, has it lain;Or fawns and licks, by hunger pressed, The hand that will assuage its pain;In life's young dawn, a well-loved guest, A fondling for the children's play, A joy unto the old and grey.
antistrophe 2
But waxing time and growth betrays The blood-thirst of the lion-race, And, for the house's fostering care, Unbidden all, it revels there, And bloody recompense repays-Rent flesh of kine, its talons tare:
