Now he hath Troy dismantled with the mattock Of righteous-judging Jove wherewith the

plain

Is levelled all-and undiscerned the shrines,
And platforms of the gods; and utterly
Is the seed perished from the land entire.
Such a yoke-chain upon the neck of Troy
Hath king Atrides cast, -the king revered,
The hero blest of heav'n- and doth arrive
Most worthy to be honoured of all mortals
That now do live. Since neither Paris now,
Nor his accomplice-city, boasts their deed
To be beyond their suffering. For cast
In the death-suit of plunder and of theft,
He both his gage did forfeit; and in one
Wide ruin, with his land, his father's hall
He mowed away; and doubly did the sons
Of Priam pay the forfeit for their crimes.
Chor. Herald of the Achæans-them that still
Live of the host, come thou in joy!

Herald.

I come, and now no longer will gainsay

The gods to die.

Chor.

For this thy father-land?

Her.

In joy

Did longing reach thy soul

Yea, that I e'en

Ye were then

How now mean'st thou?

Have tears in my eyes for gladness.

Chor.

Smitten with this sweet ailment ?

Her.

When schooled of thee, this problem I shall

master.

Chor. Smitten, I mean, with yearning love for them

That loved thee in return.

Her.

And dost thou say

Thou longed'st for the army, that did long
To see this land?

Chor.

Yea-that full oft I groaned

From a heart sunk in gloom.

Her.

Whence hung there on thee

The tristful weight thou speak'st of, to the host Offensive as to thee?

Chor.

Long since I held

My silence, as an antidote of bane.

Her. And how, thy chieftains absent, feared'st thou any?

Chor. Just as thy words but erst.

die now

Were matter of great thanks.

Her.

E'en to

Yea, for full well Hath it been fared. But these events of ours In a long space of time, some might one say, Fell fair, and others counterwise, e'en fraught With grievance. But what being, save the gods, Is scatheless the whole span throughout his life? For, if I told our toils and bivouacs sharp, Rare puttings in, and miserably couchedAnd what not groaning o'er, not having shared At turn of day! While, for our haps again By land, there e'en clung to them more to loathe. Since close our beds lay to our foemen's walls; And from the sky, and from a soil of marshes, Dews drizzled on us, canker rankling-deep Of raiment, setting all our hair as shagg'd As mountain beasts. And if one told of winter, That slew e'en birds-how fierce a one, past bearing,

The snow of Ida dealt us-or the heat,

When ocean, waveless, on its noonday couch

Would breezeless sink and slumber. But what

need

To wail these sorrows?

Past is now our toil, And past to the departed e'en the thought That ne'er again may they e'en rise to life. What use in sums to count the spent and lost? "Tis he that liveth still who needs must suffer At Fortune's hand in her capricious wrath. Yea, do I deem it meet to bid mishaps A long farewell. For unto us the remnants Of the host of Argives conquers now the gain, And mischief sinks not in the counter-scale. So that 'tis meet to triumph in this light Of sun-o'er land and ocean as we float

[He proceeds to hang the trophies on the entrance of the temple.]

Troy having ta'en, in sooth, the Argive's host To the gods' honour, nailed these trophies here, Unto their ancient homes in Helle's land,

A pride and joy. When words like these we hear,

Well may we bless our city and our chiefs.

And Jove's good grace shall honour'd be, which wrought

These triumphs out. Thou hast my tale entire. Chor. Though conquer'd by thy words, I cry not hold,

For it is ever youth-time in the ag'd

To learn a tale of joy. But, like it is,

That the whole house, and Clytemnestra most, Should long to hear thy tidings, and that thou With them should'st me enrich.

Clyt. I raised a peal Of jubilee long since, o'ercome with joy When came the first night-messenger of fire, Telling of Ilion's capture and o'erturn;

And one there was who, taunting me, did say,
What by mere beacon-lights bewitch'd dost deem
That Troy is sack'd? 'Tis sorely like a woman
To have the heart buoyed up.
With words like

these

I seemed as one bewilder'd, yet did still
My victims offer, and by woman's law
One here, one there, the cry of jubilee
They pealed throughout the city, as they utter'd
The blest acclaim within the gods' abode,
Lulling the od❜rous incense-feeding flame.
And now, what binds thee to narrate to me
The longer details? From the king's self the
tale

Entire shall I be told, and as best may,
My spouse revered will I haste to greet
On his return. For to a wife what light
Sweeter than this to see? Unto her husband
From warfare coming, when the god has saved
him,

The gates to open wide! Report these words
Unto my spouse, that he do come as quick
As may be-yearned for by his country's love.
And a right royal wife within his halls
May he on coming find-e'en such an one
As he did leave, a watch-dog of his home-
Gentle to him-to evil-minded men
A foe; and like in every other feature;
One that hath broken not a single seal
In lengthened time. I know no taste of joy,
Or scandal-word from other men, no more
Than brass doth know of dying.

Her.

Such thy vaunt,

Surcharged with truth, is no disgracious word For thee, as for a noble dame, to utter.

[Clytemnestra departs.]

Chor. She did herself thus speak thee, as thou learnest,

With words, that thou may'st see through, that interpret

Her spirit well, fairly and speciously.

But do thou teach me, Herald. I would fain
Be told of Menelaus-if returning

And saved back, he is to come with you,
He of this land the sovran dearly loved.

Her. It cannot be that I should tell thee lies,

Though fair to hear, for friends to reap their fruit

For the long time.

Chor.

How prithee, speaking words Of cheer, could'st hit the truth. If they be severed,

These features are not lightly vizored o'er.

Her. The man is vanish'd from the Achæan host,

Himself both and his ship. I speak not lies. Chor. What, having openly put out from Troy?

Or did a tempest, general overwhelm

Of all the army, wrest him from your side?
Her. E'en as consummate archer thou didst

So as to announce it clearly-save the sun
That nurtureth earth's nature.

D