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Part IV
Part IV
[Enter Agamemnon in a chariot, accompanied by Cassandra. He speaks
without descending.
Agamemnon
First, as is meet, a king`s All-hail be said
To Argos, and the gods that guard the land -
Gods who with me availed to speed us home,
With me availed to wring from Priam`s town
The due of justice. In the court of heaven
The gods in conclave sat and judged the cause,
Not from a pleader`s tongue, and at the close,
Unanimous into the urn of doom
This sentence gave, On Ilion and her men,
Death: and where hope drew nigh to pardon`s urn
No hand there was to cast a vote therein.
And still the smoke of fallen Ilion
Rises in sight of all men, and the flame
Of Ate`s hecatomb is living yet,
And where the towers in dusty ashes sink,
Rise the rich fumes of pomp and wealth consumed.
For this must all men pay unto the gods
The meed of mindful hearts and gratitude:
For by our hands the meshes of revenge
Closed on the prey, and for one woman`s sake
Troy trodden by the Argive monster lies -
The foal, the shielded band that leapt the wall,
What time with autumn sank the Pleiades.
Yea, o`er the fencing wall a lion sprang
Ravening, and lapped his fill of blood of kings.
Such prelude spoken to the gods in full,
To you I turn, and to the hidden thing
Whereof ye spake but now: and in that thought
I am as you, and what ye say, say I.
For few are they who have such inborn grace,
As to look up with love, and envy not,
When stands another on the height of weal.
Deep on his heart, whom jealousy hath seized,
Her poison lurking doth enhance his load;
For now beneath his proper woes he chafes,
And sighs withal to see another`s weal.
I speak not idly, but from knowledge sure -
There be who vaunt an utter loyalty,
That is but as the ghost of friendship dead,
A shadow in a glass, of faith gone by.
One only - he who went reluctant forth
Across the seas with me - Odysseus - he
Was loyal unto me with strength and will,
A trusty trace-horse bound unto my car.
Thus - be he yet beneath the light of day,
Or dead, as well I fear - I speak his praise.
Lastly, whate`er be due to men or gods,
With joint debate, in public council held,
We will decide, and warily contrive
That all which now is well may so abide:
For that which haply needs the healer`s art,
That will we medicine, discerning well
If cautery or knife befit the time.
Now, to my palace and the shrines of home,
I will pass in, and greet you first and fair,
Ye gods, who bade me forth, and home again -
And long may Victory tarry in my train!
[Enter Clytemnestra, followed by maidens bearing purple robes.
Clytemnestra
Old men of Argos, lieges of our realm,
Shame shall not bid me shrink lest ye should see
The love I bear my lord. Such blushing fear
Dies at the last from hearts of humankind.
From mine own soul and from no alien lips,
I know and will reveal the life I bore,
Reluctant, through the lingering livelong years,
The while my lord beleaguered Ilion`s wall.
First, that a wife sat sundered from her lord,
In widowed solitude, was utter woe -
And woe, to hear how rumour`s many tongues
All boded evil-woe, when he who came
And he who followed spake of ill on ill,
Keening Lost, lost, all lost! thro` hall and bower.
Had this my husband met so many wounds,
As by a thousand channels rumour told,
No network e`er was full of holes as he.
Had he been slain, as oft as tidings came
That he was dead, he well might boast him now
A second Geryon of triple frame,
With triple robe of earth above him laid -
For that below, no matter - triply dead,
Dead by one death for every form he bore.
And thus distraught by news of wrath and woe,
Oft for self-slaughter had I slung the noose,
But others wrenched it from my neck away.
Hence haps it that Orestes, thine and mine,
The pledge nnd symbol of our wedded troth,
Stands not beside us now, as he should stand.
Nor marvel thou at this: he dwells with one
Who guards him loyally; `tis Phocis` king,
Strophius, who warned me erst, Bethink thee, queen,
What woes of doubtful issue well may fall!
Thy lord in daily jeopardy at Troy,
While here a populace uncurbed may cry,
"Down with the council, down!" bethink thee too,
`Tis the world`s way to set a harder heel
On fallen power.
For thy child`s absence then Such mine excuse, no wily afterthought. For
me, long since the gushing fount of tears Is wept away; no drop is left to
shed. Dim are the eyes that ever watched till dawn, Weeping, the bale-fires,
piled for thy return, Night after night unkindled. If I slept, Each sound -
the tiny humming of a gnat, Roused me again, again, from fitful dreams Wherein
I felt thee smitten, saw thee slain, Thrice for each moment of mine hour of
sleep.
All this I bore, and now, released from woe,
A hail my lord as watch-dog of a fold,
As saving stay-rope of a storm-tossed ship,
As column stout that holds the roof aloft,
As only child unto a sire bereaved,
As land beheld, past hope, by crews forlorn,
As sunshine fair when tempest`s wrath is past,
As gushing spring to thirsty wayfarer.
So sweet it is to `scape the press of pain.
With such salute I bid my husband hail!
Nor heaven be wroth therewith! for long and hard
I bore that ire of old.
Sweet lord, step forth, Step from thy car, I pray - nay, not on earth
Plant the proud foot, O king, that trod down Troy!
Women! why tarry ye, whose task it is
To spread your monarch`s path with tapestry?
Swift, swift, with purple strew his passage fair,
That justice lead him to a home, at last,
He scarcely looked to see.
For what remains, Zeal unsubdued by sleep shall nerve my hand To work as
right and as the gods command.
Agamemnon
Daughter of Leda, watcher o`er my home,
Thy greeting well befits mine absence long,
For late and hardly has it reached its end.
Know that the praise which honour bids us crave,
Must come from others` lips, not from our own:
See too that not in fashion feminine
Thou make a warrior`s pathway delicate;
Not unto me, as to some Eastern lord,
Bowing thyself to earth, make homage loud.
Strew not this purple that shall make each step
An arrogance; such pomp beseems the gods,
Not me. A mortal man to set his foot
On these rich dyes? I hold such pride in fear,
And bid thee honour me as man, not god.
Fear not - such footcloths and all gauds apart,
Loud from the trump of Fame my name is blown;
Best gift of heaven it is, in glory`s hour,
To think thereon with soberness: and thou -
Bethink thee of the adage, Call none blest
Till peaceful death have crowned a life of weal.
`Tis said: I fain would fare unvexed by fear.
Clytemnestra
Nay, but unsay it - thwart not thou my will
Agamemnon
Know, I have said, and will not mar my word.
Clytemnestra
Was it fear made this meekness to the gods?
Agamemnon
If cause be cause, `tis mine for this resolve.
Clytemnestra
What, think`st thou, in thy place had Priam done?
Agamemnon
He surely would have walked on broidered robes.
Clytemnestra
Then fear not thou the voice of human blame.
Agamemnon
Yet mighty is the murmur of a crowd.
Clytemnestra
Shrink not from envy, appanage of bliss.
Agamemnon
War is not woman`s part, nor war of words.
Clytemnestra
Yet happy victors well may yield therein.
Agamemnon
Dost crave for triumph in this petty strife?
Clytemnestra
Yield; of thy grace permit me to prevail!
Agamemnon
Then, if thou wilt, let some one stoop to loose
Swiftly these sandals, slaves beneath my foot:
And stepping thus upon the sea`s rich dye,
I pray, Let none among the gods look down
With jealous eye on me - reluctant all,
To trample thus and mar a thing of price,
Wasting the wealth of garments silver-worth.
Enough hereof: and, for the stranger maid,
Lead her within, but gently: God on high
Looks graciously on him whom triumph`s hour
Has made not pitiless. None willingly
Wear the slave`s yoke - and she, the prize and flower
Of all we won, comes hither in my train,
Gift of the army to its chief and lord.
- Now, since in this my will bows down to thine,
I will pass in on purples to my home.
Clytemnestra
A Sea there is - and who shall stay its springs?
And deep within its breast, a mighty store,
Precious as silver, of the purple dye,
Whereby the dipped robe doth its tint renew.
Enough of such, O king, within thy halls
There lies, a store that cannot fail; but I -
I would have gladly vowed unto the gods
Cost of a thousand garments trodden thus
(Had once the oracle such gift required),
Contriving ransom for thy life preserved.
For while the stock is firm the foliage climbs,
Spreading a shade, what time the dog-star glows;
And thou, returning to thine hearth and home,
Art as a genial warmth in winter hours,
Or as a coolness, when the lord of heaven
Mellows the juice within the bitter grape.
Such boons and more doth bring into a home
The present footstep of its proper lord.
Zeus, Zeus, Fulfilment`s lord! my vows fulfil,
And whatsoe`er it be, work forth thy will!
[Exeunt all but Cassandra and the Chorus.
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