Part II

AGAMEMNON (still standing in the chariot) 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 in 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! (CLYTEMNESTRA enters from

the palace, followed by maidens bearing crimson 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 human kind.

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 and 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 witk 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,

I 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. (The attendant women spread the tapestry.)

For what remains,

Zeal unsubdued by sleep shall nerve my hand

To work as right and as the gods command.

AGAMEMNON (still in the chariot) 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. (He descends from the chariot,

and moves towards the palace.)

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! (She follows AGAMEMNON

into the palace.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Wherefore for ever on the wings of fear

Hovers a vision drear

Before my boding heart? a strain,

Unbidden and unwelcome, thrills mine ear,

Oracular of pain.

Not as of old upon my bosom's throne

Sits Confidence, to spurn

Such fears, like dreams we know not to discern.

Old, old and grey long since the time has grown,

Which saw the linked cables moor

The fleet, when erst it came to Ilion's sandy shore;

(antistrophe 1)

And now mine eyes and not another's see

Their safe return.

Yet none the less in me

The inner spirit sings a boding song,

Self-prompted, sings the Furies' strain-

And seeks, and seeks in vain,

To hope and to be strong!

Ah! to some end of Fate, unseen, unguessed,

Are these wild throbbings of my heart and breast-

Yea, of some doom they tell-

Each pulse, a knell.

Lief, lief I were, that all

To unfulfilment's hidden realm might fall.

(strophe 2)

Too far, too far our mortal spirits strive,

Grasping at utter weal, unsatisfied-

Till the fell curse, that dwelleth hard beside,

Thrust down the sundering wall. Too fair they blow,

The gales that waft our bark on Fortune's tide!

Swiftly we sail, the sooner an to drive

Upon the hidden rock, the reef of woe.

Then if the hand of caution warily

Sling forth into the sea

Part of the freight, lest all should sink below,

From the deep death it saves the bark: even so,

Doom-laden though it be, once more may rise

His household, who is timely wise.

How oft the famine-stricken field

Is saved by God's large gift, the new year's yield!

(antistrophe 2)

But blood of man once spilled,

Once at his feet shed forth, and darkening the plain,-

Nor chant nor charm can call it back again.

So Zeus hath willed:

Else had he spared the leech Asclepius, skilled

To bring man from the dead: the hand divine

Did smite himself with death-a warning and a sign-

Ah me! if Fate, ordained of old,

Held not the will of gods constrained, controlled,

Helpless to us-ward, and apart-

Swifter than speech my heart

Had poured its presage out!

Now, fretting, chafing in the dark of doubt,

'Tis hopeless to unfold

Truth, from fear's tangled skein; and, yearning to proclaim

Its thought, my soul is prophecy and flame. (CLYTEMNESTRA comes out

of the palace and addresses CASSANDRA, who has remained motionless

in her chariot.)

CLYTEMNESTRA Get thee within thou too, Cassandra, go!

For Zeus to thee in gracious mercy grants

To share the sprinklings of the lustral bowl,

Beside the altar of his guardianship,

Slave among many slaves. What, haughty still?

Step from the car; Alcmena's son, 'tis said,

Was sold perforce and bore the yoke of old.

Ay, hard it is, but, if such fate befall,

'Tis a fair chance to serve within a home

Of ancient wealth and power. An upstart lord,

To whom wealth's harvest came beyond his hope,

Is as a lion to his slaves, in all

Exceeding fierce, immoderate in sway.

Pass in: thou hearest what our ways will be.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Clear unto thee, O maid, is her command,

But thou-within the toils of Fate thou art-

If such thy will, I urge thee to obey;

Yet I misdoubt thou dost nor hear nor heed.

CLYTEMNESTRA I wot-unless like swallows she doth use

Some strange barbarian tongue from oversea-

My words must speak persuasion to her soul.

LEADER Obey: there is no gentler way than this.

Step from the car's high seat and follow her.

CLYTEMNESTRA Truce to this bootless waiting here without!

I will not stay: beside the central shrine

The victims stand, prepared for knife and fire-

Offerings from hearts beyond all hope made glad.

Thou-if thou reckest aught of my command,

'Twere well done soon: but if thy sense be shut

From these my words, let thy barbarian hand

Fulfil by gesture the default of speech.

LEADER No native is she, thus to read thy words

Unaided: like some wild thing of the wood,

New-trapped, behold! she shrinks and glares on thee.

CLYTEMNESTRA 'Tis madness and the rule of mind distraught,

Since she beheld her city sink in fire,

And hither comes, nor brooks the bit, until

In foam and blood her wrath be champed away.

See ye to her; unqueenly 'tis for me,

Unheeded thus to cast away my words. (CLYTEMNESTRA enters the palace.)

LEADER But with me pity sits in anger's place.

Poor maiden, come thou from the car; no way

There is but this-take up thy servitude.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Woe, woe, alas! Earth, Mother Earth! and thou

Apollo, Apollo!

LEADER Peace! shriek not to the bright prophetic god,

Who will not brook the suppliance of woe.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Woe, woe, alas! Earth, Mother Earth! and thou

Apollo, Apollo!

LEADER Hark, with wild curse she calls anew on him,

Who stands far off and loathes the voice of wail.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Apollo, Apollo!

God of all ways, but only Death's to me,

Once and again, O thou, Destroyer named,

Thou hast destroyed me, thou, my love of old!

LEADER She grows presageful of her woes to come,

Slave tho' she be, instinct with prophecy.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Apollo, Apollo!

God of all ways, but only Death's to me,

O thou Apollo, thou Destroyer named!

What way hast led me, to what evil home?

LEADER Know'st thou it not? The home of Atreus' race:

Take these my words for sooth and ask no more.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Home cursed of God! Bear witness unto me,

Ye visioned woes within-

The blood-stained hands of them that smite their kin-

The strangling noose, and, spattered o'er

With human blood, the reeking floor!

LEADER How like a sleuth-hound questing on the track,

Keen-scented unto blood and death she hies!

CASSANDRA (chanting) Ah! can the ghostly guidance fail,

Whereby my prophet-soul is onwards led?

Look! for their flesh the spectre-children wail,

Their sodden limbs on which their father fed!

LEADER Long since we knew of thy prophetic fame,-

But for those deeds we seek no prophet's tongue-

CASSANDRA (chanting) God! 'tis another crime-

Worse than the storied woe of olden time,

Cureless, abhorred, that one is plotting here-

A shaming death, for those that should be dear

Alas! and far away, in foreign land,

He that should help doth stand!

LEADER I knew th' old tales, the city rings withal-

But now thy speech is dark, beyond my ken.

CASSANDRA (chanting) O wretch, O purpose fell!

Thou for thy wedded lord

The cleansing wave hast poured-

A treacherous welcome

How the sequel tell?

Too soon 'twill come, too soon, for now, even now,

She smites him, blow on blow!

LEADER Riddles bcyond my rede—I peer in vain

Thro' the dim films that screen the prophecy

CASSANDRA (chanting) God! a new sight! a net, a snare of hell,

Set by her hand—herself a snare more fell

A wedded wife, she slays her lord,

Helped by another hand!

Ye powers, whose hate

Of Atreus' home no blood can satiate,

Raise the wild cry above the sacrifice abhorred!

CHORUS (chanting) Why biddest thou some hend, I know not whom,

Shriek o'er the house? Thine is no cheering word.

Back to my heart in frozen fear I feel

My wanning life-blood run—The blood that round the wounding steel

Ebbs slow, as sinks life's parting sun—

Swift, swift and sure, some woe comes pressing on.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Away, away—keep him away—

The monarch of the herd, the pasture's pride,

Far from his mate! In treach'rous wrath,

Muffling his swarthy horns, with secret scathe

She gores his fenceless side! Hark ! in the brimming bath,

The heavy plash—the dying cry—

Hark—in the laver—hark, he falls by treachery!

CHORUS (chanting) I read amiss dark sayings such as thine,

Yet something warns me that they tell of ill,

O dark prophetic speech, Ill tidings dost thou teach

Ever, to mortals here below! Ever some tale of awe and woe

Thro' all thy windings manifold Do we unriddle and unfold!

CASSANDRA (chanting) Ah well-a-day! the cup of agony,

Whereof I chant, foams with a draught for me

Ah lord, ah leader, thou hast led me here—

Was't but to die with thee whose doom is near?

CHORUS (chanting) Distraught thou art, divinely stirred,

And wailest for thyself a tuneless lay,

As piteous as the ceaseless tale

Wherewith the brown melodious bird

Doth ever Itys! Itys! wail,

Deep-bowered in sorrow, all its little life-time's day!

CASSANDRA (chanting) Ah for thy fate, O shrill-voiced nightingale!

Some solace for thy woes did Heaven afford,

Clothed thee with soft brown plumes, and life apart from wail—

But for my death is edged the double-biting sword!

CHORUS (chanting) What pangs are these, what fruitless pain,

Sent on thee from on high?

Thou chantest terror's frantic strain,

Yet in shrill measured melody.

How thus unerring canst thou sweep along

The prophet's path of boding song?

CASSANDRA (chanting) Woe, Paris, woe on thee! thy bridal joy

Was death and fire upon thy race and Troy!

And woe for thee, Scamander's flood!

Beside thy banks, O river fair,

I grew in tender nursing care

From childhood unto maidenhood!

Now not by thine, but by Cocytus' stream

And Acheron's banks shall ring my boding scream.

CHORUS (chanting) Too plain is all, too plain!

A child might read aright thy fateful strain.

Deep in my heart their piercing fang

Terror and sorrow set, the while I heard

That piteous, low, tender word,

Yet to mine ear and heart a crushing pang.

CASSANDRA (chanting) Woe for my city, woe for Ilion's fall!

Father, how oft with sanguine stain

Streamed on thine altar-stone the blood of cattle, slain

That heaven might guard our wall!

But all was shed in vain.

Low lie the shattered towers whereas they fell,

And I—ah burning heart!—shall soon lie low as well.

CHORUS (chanting) Of sorrow is thy song, of sorrow still!

Alas, what power of ill

Sits heavy on thy heart and bids thee tell

In tears of perfect moan thy deadly tale?

Some woe—I know not what—must close thy pious wail.

CASSANDRA (more calmly) List! for no more the presage of my soul,

Bride-like, shall peer from its secluding veil;

But as the morning wind blows clear the east,

More bright shall blow the wind of prophecy,

And as against the low bright line of dawn

Heaves high and higher yet the rolling wave,

So in the clearing skies of prescience

Dawns on my soul a further, deadlier woe,

And I will speak, but in dark speech no more.

Bear witness, ye, and follow at my side—

I scent the trail of blood, shed long ago.

Within this house a choir abidingly

Chants in harsh unison the chant of ill;

Yea, and they drink, for more enhardened joy,

Man's blood for wine, and revel in the halls,

Departing never, Furies of the home.

They sit within, they chant the primal curse,

Each spitting hatred on that crime of old,

The brother's couch, the love incestuous

That brought forth hatred to the ravisher.

Say, is my speech or wild and erring now,

Or doth its arrow cleave the mark indeed?

They called me once, The prophetess of lies,

The wandering hag, the pest of every door—

Attest ye now, She knows in very sooth

The house's curse, the storied infamy.

LEADER Yet how should oath—how loyally soe'er

I swear it—aught avail thee? In good sooth,

My wonder meets thy claim: I stand amazed

That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas,

Dost as a native know and tell aright

Tales of a city of an alien tongue.

CASSANDRA That is my power—a boon Apollo gave.

LEADER God though he were, yearning for mortal maid?

CASSANDRA Ay! what seemed shame of old is shame no more.

LEADER Such finer sense suits not with slavery.

CASSANDRA He strove to win me, panting for my love.

LEADER Came ye by compact unto bridal joys?

CASSANDRA Nay—for I plighted troth, then foiled the god.

LEADER Wert thou already dowered with prescience?

CASSANDRA Yea—prophetess to Troy of all her doom.

LEADER How left thee then Apollo's wrath unscathed?

CASSANDRA I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all.

LEADER Not so—to us at least thy words seem sooth.

CASSANDRA Woe for me, woe! Again the agony—

Dread pain that sees the future all too well

With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul.

Behold ye—yonder on the palace roof

The spectre-children sitting—look, such things

As dreams are made on, phantoms as of babes,

Horrible shadows, that a kinsman's hand

Hath marked with murder, and their arms are full—

A rueful burden—see, they hold them up,

The entrails upon which their father fed!

For this, for this, I say there plots revenge

A coward lion, couching in the lair—

Guarding the gate against my master's foot—

My master—mine—I bear the slave's yoke now,

And he, the lord of ships, who trod down Troy,

Knows not the fawning treachery of tongue

Of this thing false and dog-like—how her speech

Glozes and sleeks her purpose, till she win

By ill fate's favour the desired chance,

Moving like Ate to a secret end.

O aweless soul! the woman slays her lord—

Woman? what loathsome monster of the earth

Were fit comparison? The double snake—

Or Scylla, where she dwells, the seaman s bane,

Girt round about with rocks? some hag of hell,

Raving a truceless curse upon her kin?

Hark even now she cries exultingly

The vengeful cry that tells of battle turned—

How fain, forsooth, to greet her chief restored!

Nay then, believe me not: what skills belief

Or disbelief ? Fate works its will—and thou

Wilt see and say in ruth, Her tale was true.

LEADER Ah—'tis Thyestes' feast on kindred flesh—

I guess her meaning and with horror thrill,

Hearing no shadow'd hint of th' o'er-true tale,

But its full hatefulness: yet, for the rest,

Far from the track I roam, and know no more.

CASSANDRA 'Tis Agamemnon's doom thou shalt behold.

LEADER Peace hapless woman, to thy boding words!

CASSANDRA Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves.

LEADER Ay—were such a doom at hand—which God forbid!

CASSANDRA Thou prayest idly—these move swift to slay.

LEADER What man prepares a deed of such despite?

CASSANDRA Fool! thus to read amiss mine oracles.

LEADER Deviser and device are dark to me.

CASSANDRA Dark! all too well I speak the Grecian tongue.

LEADER Ay—but in thine, as in Apollo's strains,

Familiar is the tongue, but dark the thought.

CASSANDRA Ah, ah the fire! it waxes, nears me now—

Woe, woe for me, Apollo of the dawn!

Lo, how the woman-thing, the lioness

Couched with the wolf—her noble mate afar—

Will slay me, slave forlorn! Yea, like some witch,

She drugs the cup of wrath, that slays her lord,

With double death—his recompense for me!

Ay, 'tis for me, the prey he bore from Troy,

That she hath sworn his death, and edged the steel!

Ye wands, ye wreaths that cling around my neck,

Ye showed me prophetess yet scorned of all—

I stamp you into death, or e'er I die—

Down, to destruction! Thus I stand revenged—

Go, crown some other with a prophet's woe.

Lookl it is he, it is Apollo's self

Rending from me the prophet-robe he gave.

God! while I wore it yet, thou saw'st me mocked

There at my home by each malicious mouth—

To all and each, an undivided scorn.

The name alike and fate of witch and cheat—

Woe, poverty, and famine—all I bore;

And at this last the god hath brought me here

Into death's toils, and what his love had made,

His hate unmakes me now: and I shall stand

Not now before the altar of my home,

But me a slaughter-house and block of blood

Shall see hewn down, a reeking sacrifice.

Yet shall the gods have heed of me who die,

For by their will shall one requite my doom.

He, to avenge his father's blood outpoured,

Shall smite and slay with matricidal hand.

Ay, he shall come—tho' far away he roam,

A banished wanderer in a stranger's land—

To crown his kindred's edifice of ill,

Called home to vengeance by his father's fall:

Thus have the high gods sworn, and shall fulfil.

And now why mourn I, tarrying on earth,

Since first mine Ilion has found its fate

And I beheld, and those who won the wall

Pass to such issue as the gods ordain?

I too will pass and like them dare to die! (She turns and looks upon

the palace door.) Portal of Hades, thus I bid thee hail!

Grant me one boon—a swift and mortal stroke,

That all unwrung by pain, with ebbing blood

Shed forth in quiet death, I close mine eyes.

LEADER Maid of mysterious woes, mysterious lore,

Long was thy prophecy: but if aright

Thou readest all thy fate, how, thus unscared,

Dost thou approach the altar of thy doom,

As fronts the knife some victim, heaven controlled?

CASSANDRA Friends, there is no avoidance in delay.

LEADER Yet who delays the longest, his the gain.

CASSANDRA The day is come—flight were small gain to me!

LEADER O brave endurance of a soul resolved!

CASSANDRA That were ill praise, for those of happier doom.

LEADER All fame is happy, even famous death.

CASSANDRA Ah sire, ah brethren, famous once were ye! (She moves

to enter the house, then starts back.)

LEADER What fear is this that scares thee from the house?

CASSANDRA Pah!

LEADER What is this cry? some dark despair of soul?

CASSANDRA Pah! the house fumes with stench and spilth of blood.

LEADER How? 'tis the smell of household offerings.

CASSANDRA 'Tis rank as charnel-scent from open graves.

LEADER Thou canst not mean this scented Syrian nard?

CASSANDRA Nay, let me pass within to cry aloud

The monarch's fate and mine—enough of life.

Ah friends!

Bear to me witness, since I fall in death,

That not as birds that shun the bush and scream

I moan in idle terror. This attest

When for my death's revenge another dies,

A woman for a woman, and a man

Falls, for a man ill-wedded to his curse.

Grant me this boon—the last before I die.

LEADER Brave to the last! I mourn thy doom foreseen.

CASSANDRA Once more one utterance, but not of wail,

Though for my death—and then I speak no more.

Sun! thou whose beam I shall not see again,

To thee I cry, Let those whom vengeance calls

To slay their kindred's slayers, quit withal

The death of me, the slave, the fenceless prey.

Ah state of mortal man! in time of weal,

A line, a shadow! and if ill fate fall,

One wet sponge-sweep wipes all our trace away—

And this I deem less piteous, of the twain. (She enters the palace.)

CHORUS (singing) Too true it is! our mortal state

With bliss is never satiate,

And none, before the palace high

And stately of prosperity,

Cries to us with a voice of fear,

Away! 'tis ill to enter here!

Lo! this our lord hath trodden down,

By grace of heaven, old Priam's town,

And praised as god he stands once more

On Argos' shore!

Yet now—if blood shed long ago

Cries out that other blood shall flow—

His life-blood, his, to pay again

The stern requital of the slain—

Peace to that braggart's vaunting vain,

Who, having heard the chieftain's tale,

Yet boasts of bliss untouched by bale! (A loud cry is heard from

within.)

VOICE OF AGAMEMNON O I am sped—a deep, a mortal blow.

LEADER Listen, listen! who is screaming as in mortal agony?

VOICE OF AGAMEMNON O! O! again, another, another blow!

LEADER The bloody act is over—I have heard the monarch's cry—

Let us swiftly take some counsel, lest we too be doomed to die.

ONE OF THE CHORUS 'Tis best, I judge, aloud for aid to call,

"Ho! loyal Argives! to the palace, all!"

ANOTHER Better, I deem, ourselves to bear the aid,

And drag the deed to light, while drips the blade.

ANOTHER Such will is mine, and what thou say'st I say:

Swiftly to act! the time brooks no delay.

ANOTHER Ay, for tis plain, this prelude of their song

Foretells its close in tyranny and wrong.

ANOTHER Behold, we tarry—but thy name, Delay,

They spurn, and press with sleepless hand to slay.

ANOTHER I know not what 'twere well to counsel now—

Who wills to act, 'tis his to counsel how.

ANOTHER Thy doubt is mine: for when a man is slain,

I have no words to bring his life again.

ANOTHER What? e'en for life's sake, bow us to obey

These house-defilers and their tyrant sway ?

ANOTHER Unmanly doom! 'twere better far to die—

Death is a gentler lord than tyranny.

ANOTHER Think well—must cry or sign of woe or pain

Fix our conclusion that the chief is slain?

ANOTHER Such talk befits us when the deed we see—

Conjecture dwells afar from certainty.

LEADER I read one will from many a diverse word,

To know aright, how stands it with our lord! (The central doors of

the palace open, disclosing CLYTEMNESTRA, who comes forward. She has

blood smeared upon her forehead. The body of AGAMEMNON lies, muffled

in a long robe, within a silver-sided laver; the corpse of CASSANDRA

is laid beside him.)

CLYTEMNESTRA Ho, ye who heard me speak so long and oft

The glozing word that led me to my will—

Hear how I shrink not to unsay it all!

How else should one who willeth to requite

Evil for evil to an enemy

Disguised as friend, weave the mesh straitly round him,

Not to be overleaped, a net of doom?

This is the sum and issue of old strife,

Of me deep-pondered and at length fulfilled.

All is avowed, and as I smote I stand

With foot set firm upon a finished thing!

I turn not to denial: thus I wrought

So that he could nor flee nor ward his doom.

Even as the trammel hems the scaly shoal,

I trapped him with inextricable toils,

The ill abundance of a baffling robe;

Then smote him, once, again—and at each wound

He cried aloud, then as in death relaxed

Each limb and sank to earth; and as he lay,

Once more I smote him, with the last third blow,

Sacred to Hades, saviour of the dead.

And thus he fell, and as he passed away,

Spirit with body chafed; each dying breath

Flung from his breast swift bubbling jets of gore,

And the dark sprinklings of the rain of blood

Fell upon me; and I was fain to feel

That dew—not sweeter is the rain of heaven

To cornland, when the green sheath teems with grain.

Elders of Argos—since the thing stands so,

I bid you to rejoice, if such your will:

Rejoice or not, I vaunt and praise the deed,

And well I ween, if seemly it could be,

'Twere not ill done to pour libations here,

Justly—ay, more than justly—on his corpse

Who filled his home with curses as with wine,

And thus returned to drain the cup he filled.

LEADER I marvel at thy tongue's audacity,

To vaunt thus loudly o'er a husband slain.

CLYTEMNESTRA Ye hold me as a woman, weak of will,

And strive to sway me: but my heart is stout,

Nor fears to speak its uttermost to you,

Albeit ye know its message. Praise or blame,

Even as ye list,—I reck not of your words.

Lo! at my feet lies Agamemnon slain,

My husband once—and him this hand of mine,

A right contriver, fashioned for his death.

Behold the deed!

CHORUS (chanting) Woman, what deadly birth,

What venomed essence of the earth

Or dark distilment of the wave,

To thee such passion gave,

Nerving thine hand

To set upon thy brow this burning crown,

The curses of thy land?

Our king by thee cut off, hewn down!

Go forth—they cry—accurscd and forlorn,

To hate and scorn!

CLYTEMNESTRA O ye just men, who speak my sentence now,

The city's hate, the ban of all my realm!

Ye had no voice of old to launch such doom

On him, my husband, when he held as light

My daughter's life as that of sheep or goat,

One victim from the thronging fleecy fold!

Yea, slew in sacrifice his child and mine,

The well-loved issue of my travail-pangs,

To lull and lay the gales that blew from Thrace.

That deed of his, I say, that stain and shame,

Had rightly been atoned by banishment;

But ye. who then were dumb, are stern to judge

This deed of mine that doth afront your ears.

Storm out your threats, yet knowing this for sooth,

That I am ready, if your hand prevail

As mine now doth, to bow beneath your sway:

If God say nay, it shall be yours to learn

By chastisement a late humility.

CHORUS (chanting) Bold is thy craft, and proud

Thy confidence, thy vaunting loud;

Thy soul, that chose a murd'ress' fate,

Is all with blood elate—

Maddened to know

The blood not yet avenged, the damn'ed spot

Crimson upon thy brow.

But Fate prepares for thee thy lot—

Smitten as thou didst smite, without a friend,

To meet thine end!

CLYTEMNESTRA Hear then the sanction of the oath I swear—

By the great vengeance for my murdered child,

By Ate, by the Fury unto whom

This man lies sacrificed by hand of mine,

I do not look to tread the hall of Fear,

While in this hearth and home of mine there burns

The light of love—Aegisthus—as of old

Loyal, a stalwart shield of confidence—

As true to me as this slain man was false,

Wronging his wife with paramours at Troy,

Fresh from the kiss of each Chryseis there!

Behold him dead—behold his captive prize,

Seeress and harlot—comfort of his bed,

True prophetess, true paramour—I wot

The sea-bench was not closer to the flesh,

Full oft, of every rower, than was she.

See, ill they did, and ill requites them now.

His death ye know: she as a dying swan

Sang her last dirge, and lies, as erst she lay,

Close to his side, and to my couch has left

A sweet new taste of joys that know no fear.

(strophe 1)

CHORUS (singing) Ah woe and well-a-day! I would that Fate—

Not bearing agony too great,

Nor stretching me too long on couch of pain—

Would bid mine eyelids keep

The morningless and unawakening sleep!

For life is weary, now my lord is slain,

The gracious among kings!

Hard fate of old he bore and many grievous things,

And for a woman's sake, on Ilian land—

Now is his life hewn down, and by a woman's hand.

O Helen, O infatuate soul,

Who bad'st the tides of battle roll,

O'erwhelming thousands, life on life,

'Neath Ilion's wall!

And now lies dead the lord of all.

The blossom of thy storied sin

Bears blood's inexpiable stain,

O thou that erst, these halls within,

Wert unto all a rock of strife,

A husband's bane!

CLYTEMNESTRA (chanting) Peace! pray not thou for death as though

Thine heart was whelmed beneath this woe,

Nor turn thy wrath aside to ban

The name of Helen, nor recall

How she, one bane of many a man,

Sent down to death the Danaan lords,

To sleep at Troy the sleep of swords,

And wrought the woe that shattered all.

(antistrophe 1)

CHORUS Fiend of the race! that swoopest fell

Upon the double stock of Tantalus,

Lording it o'er me by a woman's will,

Stern, manful, and imperious—

A bitter sway to me!

Thy very form I see,

Like some grim raven, perched upon thc slain,

Exulting o'er the crime, aloud, in tuneless strain!

CLYTEMNESTRA (chanting) Right was that word—thou namest well

The brooding race-fiend, triply fell!

From him it is that murder's thirst,

Blood-lapping, inwardly is nursed—

Ere time the ancient scar can sain,

New blood comes welling forth again.

(strophe 2)

CHORUS Grim is his wrath and heavy on our home,

That fiend of whom thv voice has cried,

Alas, an omened cry of woe unsatisfied,

An all-devouring doom!

Ah woe, ah Zeus! from Zeus all things befall—

Zeus the high cause and finisher of all!—

Lord of our mortal state, by him are willed

All things, by him fulfilled!

(refrain 1)

Yet ah my king, my king no more!

What words to say, what tears to pour

Can tell my love for thee?

The spider-web of treachery

She wove and wound, thy life around,

And lo! I see thee lie,

And thro' a coward, impious wound

Pant forth thv life and die!

A death of shame—ah woe on woe!

A treach'rous hand, a cleaving blow!

CLYTEMNESTRA (chanting) My guilt thou harpest, o'er and o'er!

I bid thee reckon me no more

As Agamemnon's spouse.

The old Avenger, stern of mood

For Atreus and his feast of blood,

Hath struck the lord of Atreus' house,

And in the semblance of his wife

The king hath slain.—