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THE 
 
 PROMETHEUS AND AGAMEMNON 
 
 OF 
 
 ^ISCHYLUS 
 
 & 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE, 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN BARTLETT. 
 to tlje Unibertfitp. 
 1849. 
 
Ys^lA^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by 
 
 JOHN B ARTLETT , 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 METCALF AND COMPANY. 
 
 PIUNTEHS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
T O 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT, 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OP HARVARD UNIVERSITY, 
 ETC., ETC., ETC., 
 
 NOT AS TO THE ACCOMPLISHED STATESMAN, 
 NOT AS TO THE ELOQUENT AND FINISHED ORATOR, 
 
 BUT AS TO THE SCHOLAR 
 
 MOST THOROUGHLY IMBUED WITH THE PERFUME OF GREEK LETTERS, 
 THESE TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 ARE RESPECTFULLY -DEDICATED, 
 
 BY 
 HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. 
 
 M105GS4 
 
TO 
 
 ED WARD E VERE T T, 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY, 
 ETC., ETC., ETC. 
 
 DEAR SIR : 
 
 Although I have not the vanity to imagine that you need any 
 information concerning the theatre of the Greeks, such as I 
 could furnish, yet a few remarks are perhaps necessary to a 
 correct comprehension and appreciation of the Hellenic dra 
 mas by those who are unacquainted with the character of 
 theatrical representations among the Greeks, and who derive 
 their ideas of these from the modern stage, and the as they 
 would fain be styled classical plays of the French tragic 
 school. Now, as I desire to explain to you some points at 
 which I have aimed in these translations, you will perhaps 
 excuse my troubling you with a few words on a subject which 
 I know you love. 
 
 I am not, indeed, about to enter into a long excursus on the 
 theatre of the Greeks, or to descend into minute particulars ; 
 for these would be to scholars superfluous and impertinent, to 
 the many uninteresting and wearisome ; but shall merely give 
 such a general view of the nature of the representation and 
 mode of performance as may enable the general reader to 
 form a correct conception of these masterpieces of Greek 
 poetry. 
 
 Few persons, I presume, are ignorant, that, like many other 
 amusements of the ancient Greeks, horse-racing, for instance, 
 and athletic contests, the performance of tragedies was 
 a* 
 
VI INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 a sacred rite, a solemn religious ceremony, in honor of the 
 Gods ; the spectators of which were not a portion of the people 
 distinguished from the mass by taste, judgment, the desire for 
 amusement, or advantages in obtaining it, but the people itself, 
 the nation assembled as a unity, entitled to free admission, 
 and participating of right in the privilege of thus at the same 
 time performing an act of solemn adoration, and gratifying 
 tastes cultivated by these very ceremonials to a degree impos 
 sible among the masses of modern times. 
 
 How highly those tastes were cultivated is evident from the 
 capacity of the people, from the highest to the lowest, to enjoy 
 poetry of such a nature as the Greek dramas, purely ideal, 
 sesthetical, and appealing less directly than that of any other 
 school to the ordinary tastes or passions of a multitude. To 
 the representation, therefore, of these dramas before an audi 
 ence at once so large, so fastidiously critical, and so refined, 
 every member of which lived constantly and plied his daily 
 labors in the midst of those masterpieces of sculptural art 
 which in our times are shut up in galleries and enjoyed almost 
 exclusively by the rich, and was thoroughly qualified to pro 
 nounce on matters now understood by a few only, a cor 
 responding scale of magnitude and style of magnificence were 
 essential. 
 
 For dramas, the patrons of which were the immortal Gods, 
 the subjects the deeds of demigods and heroes, and the spec 
 tators a nation, theatres were required of colossal proportions. 
 And such were the theatres of the Greeks ; gigantic edifices 
 of the most symmetrical design and the most solid materials, 
 capable of accommodating so many as thirty thousand persons, 
 rising tier above tier of marble seats, topped and inclosed by 
 lofty porticos, adorned by statues wrought by such hands as 
 those of Phidias and Myron, surmounted by balustraded terra 
 ces, and roofed by the azure vault of heaven. 
 
 Open aloft to the delicious beauty of a Grecian sky, the sun 
 which the actors invoked was the real orb of the Greek Day- 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vll 
 
 god, the ether which they apostrophized was the blue expanse 
 which overhung the hill of Athens. Above them towered the 
 many-templed heights of the Acropolis, below them stretched 
 away the plains watered by the sacred streams Cephisus and 
 Ilissus, and bounded in the distance by the waters of the ever 
 lasting sea, and you, Sir, whose mind is so Attic in its tex 
 ture, can well conceive what a thrill must have shot through 
 every nerve of the excitable Athenian, as he witnessed the 
 performance of " The Persians," wherein deeds were recorded 
 in which he himself had perchance played a part, in which the 
 warrior poet who composed it had won the prize of valor, of 
 which the scene was those very plains, that very sea, for the 
 plain on which he looked was Marathon, the gulf was Salamis. 
 In theatres of such an order, therefore, and with subjects of 
 such a character, nothing of frippery or gewgaw decoration 
 was allowable, no gilded pasteboard, no bedaubed and be 
 spangled canvas. 
 
 The scenery of the proscenium consisted of splendid archi 
 tectural palaces, with altars and statues of the Gods, whose 
 superhuman and ideal beauty would seem almost to justify 
 their worship ; and although this scenery could be changed, 
 and was changed, to a degree by no means apprehended in the 
 general idea of the classic theatre, all the changes were of 
 corresponding grandeur and magnificence. 
 
 " Of the now extant plays of Sophocles, there are but four 
 which would not require a change of proscenium. The 
 CEdipus Coloneus requires a grove, the Ajax a camp, and 
 the Philoctetes an island solitude." 
 
 In these instances wooden structures were thrust forward, 
 like modern slips, painted in a style not unworthy of the 
 sister arts, and arranged, on principles of perspective, so as to 
 produce a perfect illusion. On occasions, real trees, and even 
 rills of falling water, turf, and flowers, were introduced, to ren 
 der the reality complete. This was facilitated by the form of 
 the Grecian stage, which was shallow, but exceedingly wide, a 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 long, narrow parallelogram of several hundred feet, affording 
 ample room for such grand contrivances, and for the display of 
 processions and the marshalling of hosts ; since, although the 
 number of real actors was very limited, never above three per 
 sons being upon the stage at one time, the mutes were far 
 more numerous than in modern days, and were arrayed and 
 decorated with perfect correctness of costume, and correspond 
 ing splendor. Nothing mean or tinselly could pass current 
 with men who lived among the masterpieces of Phidias and 
 Zeuxis, and were accustomed to criticize the poetry of an 
 JEschylus, the eloquence of a Demosthenes. 
 
 For the rest, the actors were masked, because every charac 
 ter had its ideal type, and the face of Agamemnon or Achilles, 
 much more of Hermes, Apollo, or Athene, was not to be left 
 to the trick of human features. 
 
 This, which, according to the principles of modern acting, is 
 inconceivable, and would justly be regarded as a horrible de 
 fect, was not so in theatres where the distance at which objects 
 were viewed was so great, three or four hundred feet, that, 
 in any event, the play of the features would be necessarily lost. 
 The glances of the eye, and the gesticulation of the hands 
 and body, were all-sufficient to express the passions, where the 
 very passions were severe, restrained, and majestical, and the 
 language in the highest degree rhythmical and modulated. 
 
 Indeed, Greek acting must be considered very much in ref 
 erence to Greek sculpture, from which undoubtedly its atti 
 tudes, its groupings, its proportions, nay, its very features, were 
 often borrowed. In the very subjects of the tragedies there 
 was something statuesque ; and though glittering in brazen ar 
 mour, rustling in robes of Tyrian crimson, or floating in saffron 
 veils, the actors of the Hellenic theatres must be regarded 
 rather as playing the part of animated statues, than as the 
 players who fret and fume their hour on our modern stage. 
 
 With regard to the modes of the choral music and singing 
 we know but little, nor how it was combined with the spoken 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. IX 
 
 portions of the drama ; but that the harmony between the two 
 was congruous and perfectly preserved, no one can doubt, who 
 observes the unity and correctness of taste which seem to 
 have pervaded the whole Hellenic mind. No portion of the 
 singing, it is probable, degenerated into the quavering licen 
 tiousness of the operatic styles, none of the spoken parts de 
 scended into mere ordinary diction. 
 
 The one was, we may conjecture, a lofty and clearly artic 
 ulated chanting, set to music suited to the passions of the sub 
 ject ; the other a species of sustained recitative, sufficiently 
 colloquial to express all the grander passions, yet sufficiently 
 rhythmical to avoid the vulgarisms of mere conversational 
 parlance. 
 
 Lastly, as the scenes could be changed, and architectural 
 exteriors wheeled round so as to display interiors, as groves 
 were run forward to conceal palaces, so had they all machinery 
 by which to introduce Gods floating upon winged chariots, or 
 riding upon pinioned monsters, ghosts ascending into light su 
 pernal, or sinking down to Hades; they had their thunders and 
 lightnings, their storms and darknesses, in short, all the appli 
 ances for producing every requisite illusion ; and that, it is 
 probable, both from analogy, and from what has been dis 
 covered of colossal devices of machinery in the ruined tem 
 ples of Eleusis, in far greater perfection than we now pos 
 sess them. 
 
 Suffice it, that in all respects the theatres of the ancients 
 were equal to the nature of their dramas, and corresponding 
 to the state of the arts in an age and nation in which every 
 thing, even to the details of every-day life, was artistical, and 
 imbued with a spirit of grace and beauty. 
 
 And now a few words with regard to my treatment of 
 the subject, and some peculiarities which will doubtless strike 
 you in the manner of its execution. 
 
 The principal object which I proposed to myself in the fol 
 lowing translations was, to convey as nearly as possible to the 
 
X INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 English reader, not only the letter, but the spirit, of the origi 
 nal ; the rules which I laid down to myself were perfect liter- 
 alness, an avoidance of paraphrase, circumlocution, and am 
 plification, to the utmost extent admitted by the structure of 
 the English language ; and above all, even if it should be 
 necessary to add words in order to convey the sense, never to 
 interpolate ideas. 
 
 It struck me, that, in all former translations of the Greek dra 
 mas, the use of regular set English metres and stanzaic forms, 
 for the representation of irregular though corresponding stro 
 phes and antistrophes, prevented the reader from forming any 
 true idea of the Greek choral modes, and rendered it impossi 
 ble to preserve the brevity and terseness of the original. I 
 therefore determined to render them as nearly to the measures 
 of the original as the difference between a quantitative lan 
 guage like the Greek, and one purely accentual like the Eng 
 lish, would admit. 
 
 Thus the iambics of the text are given in blank verse, which 
 is their equivalent, with but one exception. Wherever those 
 singular dialogues of alternate single iambics, or iambic coup 
 lets, so peculiar to the Hellenic dramas, occur, 1 have rendered 
 them into rhymed heroic couplets, and this for two reasons ; 
 first, that the system of English blank verse abhors single un 
 connected lines ; and second, that these alternate conversa 
 tions have always something epigrammatic in their character, 
 which harmonizes well with the antithetical point of the heroic 
 couplet. 
 
 The anapaests of the Greek, in which our poet is the strong 
 est of all the tragedians, I have translated into accentual Eng 
 lish anapaests, thinking that they convey something of the rush 
 ing rapidity of the original ; and the long trochaics into Alex 
 andrines, so constructed, that, as in the trochaic the last twelve 
 syllables, the first two being cut away, form a regular iambic, 
 so in the Alexandrines the last ten, similarly separated, form a 
 blank verse. 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XI 
 
 Beyond this I have nothing to say. If to the scholar my 
 translation appears to be a transfusion of the spirit and letter 
 of the Greek text into our own tongue, and to the English 
 reader reads like an original English composition, not unpos 
 sessed of poetic merit, I have measurably succeeded in my 
 aim; never having it in view, even as a possibility, to equal the 
 majesty or attain the sublimity of the original. 
 
 In the next place, I have adopted throughout the Hellenic 
 names of the Hellenic divinities, never having been able to dis 
 cover the slightest grounds for emasculating the grand Titanic 
 Gods of the old Greek Olympus into the formal deities of the 
 Latin mythology. There is no more in common between the 
 Zeus and Here, the Ares and Artemis, of Greece, and the Ju 
 piter and Juno, the Mars and Diana, of Rome, than there is of 
 similitude between JEschylus and Seneca ; and writing of the 
 Hellenic Gods, I have chosen to designate them as they were 
 known to the Hellenes of Hellas. For the same cause, I have 
 reverted in all Greek proper names to the Greek terminations 
 os and e, in lieu of the Latin us and a; to the Greek diphthongs 
 ai and oi, in lieu of the Latin ce and & ; and lastly, to the Greek 
 &, in place of the Latin c ; bringing the whole system of no 
 menclature, both of persons and places, as nearly as possible to 
 the true Hellenic standard. The only exception is in the few 
 Greek adjectives which have become so engrafted on our lan 
 guage as to be now almost English words, which to alter or 
 amend would appear an affectation. For, detesting all affecta 
 tions, there is none which I hold so detestable as that of setting 
 up for neologizer or improver of the English tongue ; deeming 
 it probable that such men as Shakspeare and Milton, Jeremy 
 Taylor and the translators of the Oxford Bible, are not one 
 iota less likely to have understood the principles of the great 
 language which they have rendered immortal, than any ob 
 scure country schoolmaster who chooses to compile, or any 
 pragmatical printers who choose to force upon the world, a 
 standard of lexicography. 
 
Xll INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 The text which I have adopted is, in the main, that of James 
 Scholefeld, the Regius Professor of Greek Literature at Cam 
 bridge ; which I regard, on the whole, as the best and most sat 
 isfactory. In the Prometheus I have in no respect varied from 
 it. In the Agamemnon, though generally adhering to it, and 
 accepting entire its numeration and rhythmical arrangement, I 
 have adopted in some of the obscurer passages the emenda 
 tions of Peile, Klausen, Schneider, and Felton, to all of whom 
 I confess my obligation. 
 
 For the rest, Sir, should you discover any evidences of 
 scholarship in the following translations, I am proud to record 
 my indebtedness for it to one whom we both, I know, regard 
 most highly as a friend, and to whom I am under endless ob 
 ligation for his skill and kindness in fashioning my mind to a 
 love of letters, I mean, as you, Sir, will readily conjecture, 
 the Rev. Dr. Hawtrey, once my tutor, and now head -master 
 of Eton College, with whom I first read the two noble plays 
 the translation of which you have allowed me the honor of 
 dedicating to you. 
 
 Believe, Sir, that I remain, with the most respectful consid 
 eration, your friend and servant, 
 
 HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. 
 
 THE CEDARS, June 16, 1849. 
 
THE 
 
 PROMETHEUS FETTERED 
 
 OF 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THIS magnificent tragedy, which, as it is the first usually 
 placed in the hands of students of our author, is likewise the 
 first that I have attempted to render in such a manner as 
 to preserve as much as possible the spirit, motion, and rhythm 
 of the original, is in many respects widely different from any 
 of the ancient Hellenic dramas, and therefore much more at 
 variance with our ideas of tragedy. 
 
 In the first place, it has no human personages whatever, nor 
 any direct human interest; appealing only to mere mortal 
 sympathies as in behalf of the suffering mediator, friend, 
 and saviour, who is represented as punished by the superior 
 force of Zeus mainly on account of his philanthropic mood. 
 In the second place, it entirely lacks every thing approaching 
 to exterior action, and, indeed, to action at all, except at the 
 very opening of the plot. 
 
 Vicissitude there is, indeed, and a directly continuous prog 
 ress toward the final catastrophe of the drama, although that 
 progress is worked out through a train of episodical entrances 
 of persons but slenderly connected with the thread of the 
 piece, and acting the part rather of incidental agents than of 
 characters, in the proper sense of the word. 
 
 Still, such is the sublimity of the subject, an immortal God 
 doomed to immortal suffering in consequence of his good-will 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 toward poor humanity, knowing the course of fate to the very 
 end, yet never despairing, never succumbing to the might of his 
 tormentor, but glorying in the immortality even of his capacity 
 to suffer, defying his enemies to shake his resolute resistance, 
 and upheld by his consciousness of right, the splendor of the 
 language, the fervor of the prophetic diction, the glory of the 
 leading character, as evinced by his consistency of will and by 
 his harmony of thought and language, not to forget the su 
 perb and stately flow of the tragical iambics, the rapid rush of 
 the unequalled anaprests, and the almost dithyrambic wildness 
 of some of the choral strains, that these have rendered it, in 
 all times, one of the most elect favorites of the tragical student, 
 and that it will never lose its especial charm of supernatural 
 grandeur of subject, and exquisite rhythmical perfection, while 
 the grand language, of which it is one of the chiefest orna 
 ments, lives in the mouths of men. 
 
 I cannot here do better than quote, from the third edition of 
 " The Theatre of the Greeks," a passage ably translated from 
 one of SchlegePs lectures in relation to this tragedy, as ex 
 pressing so fully the nature of the piece that it would be 
 impertinent to attempt to improve upon it. 
 
 " The Prometheus Bound is the representation of steadfast 
 endurance of suffering, and, indeed, the immortal suffering of 
 a God. Banished to a desolate rock over against the earth- 
 encircling ocean, this play nevertheless takes in the world, the 
 Olympus of the gods, and earth, the abode of man, all scarcely 
 yet reposing in a state of security over the precipitous abyss 
 of the dark primeval powers of Titanism. The notion of a 
 deity delivering himself up as a sacrifice has been mysterious 
 ly inculcated in many religions, as a confused foreboding of 
 the true one, but here it stands in most fearful contrast with 
 consolatory revelation. For Prometheus suffers, not on an 
 understanding with the power that rules the world, but in 
 atonement for his rebellion against that power ; and this rebel 
 lion consists in nothing else than his design of making man 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 perfect. Thus he becomes a type of Humanity itself; as, 
 gifted with an unblessed foresight, riveted to its own narrow 
 existence, and destitute of all allies, it has nothing to oppose to 
 the inexorable powers of nature arrayed against it but an un 
 shaken will and the consciousness of its own sublime preten 
 sions. The other inventions of the Greek tragedians are 
 single tragedies. This I might say is Tragedy herself, her in 
 most spirit revealed in all the prostrating and annihilating force 
 of its hitherto unmitigated austerity." 
 
 This tragedy, as was usual with the Athenians, composed 
 one of what is termed a trilogy, or group of three dramas on 
 one subject, and proceeding regularly from the origin to the 
 catastrophe of a tale too long and complicated, as well as con 
 taining- too many actors, to be adapted to the strict rules of the 
 Hellenic stage. The English reader will find something anal 
 ogous to this arrangement in our own Shakspeare s mode of 
 dealing with the crimes and punishments of the rival houses of 
 York and Lancaster, through a series of tragedies each in 
 itself distinct and perfect. These were not, however, as was 
 the case in Athens, presented to the audience consecutively, or 
 in a single day. 
 
 The " Prometheus Fettered " was thus one of three, al 
 though it is remarkable, if not anomalous, that the first piece 
 of an Hellenic trilogy should be, as was the "Fire-bearing 
 Prometheus," a satyric drama. The " Prometheus Fettered " 
 was the second, and was succeeded by the " Prometheus Re 
 leased," which brought the mythus to an end by the accom 
 plishment of the prophecies, the God s release by Herakles, the 
 descendant of lo in the thirteenth generation, marking the 
 period of his tortures, and his ultimate reconciliation with 
 Zeus. 
 
 The time occupied in this drama is nowhere defined ; but 
 
 it is uninterrupted, and the action is directly continuous. The 
 
 scene remains unchanged from the beginning of the piece to 
 
 the catastrophe ; when the whole landscape, with the actors, 
 
 i* 
 
O PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 disappears, amid a tempest of fire, hail, and thunder. The 
 scene presents in the centre a huge isolated crag, which is 
 supposed to be one of the lower heights of Caucasus, situate 
 in the gorge of a wild mountainous glen, savage and ice-bound, 
 overlooking the ocean. 
 
 The piece opens by the entrance of Strength, Force, Ile- 
 phaistos, and Prometheus, the latter led in as a prisoner. 
 
 Strength begins by commanding Hephaistos, in obedience to 
 the injunctions of Zeus, to bind the Fire-stealer to the rocks, 
 in this Scythian solitude, the utmost tract of earth, as an atone 
 ment for his treason to the Gods and his fondness for mortals. 
 
 Hephaistos objects, expresses his reluctance and his sympa 
 thy for Prometheus, but is urged and compelled to his unwilling 
 task ; when they proceed to chain and nail Prometheus to the 
 rock in the centre, the horrible process being described at 
 length in alternate iambic verses, between Strength, urging 
 forward, and Hephaistos, bemoaning, the work which is to be 
 accomplished. Force is a mute personage, arid Prometheus 
 preserves an indignant silence during the presence of his 
 tormentors. 
 
 These having departed, he bursts forth into a brief lamenta 
 tion and invocation to the powers of nature to look down upon 
 his unjust doom ; but he speedily recovers his equanimity, and 
 consoles himself by the consideration that it is best to bear 
 lightly that which must be borne. 
 
 Here he is interrupted by a strange perfume floating on the 
 air, and the sound of many wings beating the ether, of which 
 he is, at first, inclined to augur ill. 
 
 Then enter the Chorus of Okeanides, in a winged chariot, 
 who sing, as they hover above the crag, a consolatory ode, 
 between the strophes of which Prometheus replies in sonorous 
 anapaests. After this, Prometheus relates, in iambic verse, at 
 the request of the Chorus, the offence which he had given to 
 Zeus, after having established him on the throne of Kronos, by 
 attempting to perfect the race of mortals. An alternate dia- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 logue follows, and then, at the invitation of Prometheus, the 
 Chorus descend from their car, and take their station in the 
 orchestra, to an anapaestic mode. To these enters Okeanos, 
 riding on a winged horse, and addresses his brother-Titan in a 
 half-sympathetic strain, to which Prometheus replies with hesi 
 tation and distrust. 
 
 Okeanos replies, counselling submission to Zeus, in appre 
 hension of worse woes to come thereafter. Prometheus tells 
 him in reply, that his counsel is timid and selfish ; relates the 
 fate of his brother-Titan, Atlas, and of Typhon, pressed beneath 
 the roots of .^tna, and scornfully advises him to shun the like 
 consequence of sympathy with himself, and so dismisses him. 
 
 After his departure, the Chorus sing an ode commemorating 
 and compassionating the fall of the elder Gods. Prometheus 
 follows with a description of the various gifts he had bestowed 
 upon mortals, the arts and sciences he had taught them, and 
 ends by saying that all they possess they owe to Prometheus. 
 He then proceeds darkly to insinuate that an awful retribution 
 is predestined, and must certainly befall Zeus himself, who 
 now oppresses him ; but he declines at present to speak plainly, 
 asserting only that he shall at some future period be released 
 from his fetters, but not until he shall have been bent by ten 
 thousand calamities. 
 
 A third ode, brief but beautiful, follows from the Chorus, 
 expressing their earnest hopes that Fate will never set their 
 opinion at variance with the Gods, their horror at the suffer 
 ings of Prometheus, their doubts of his wisdom in succouring 
 so frail and unprofitable a race as that of mortal man, and 
 concluding by a splendid contrast between his present sorrows 
 and the glad days, when they celebrated his glorious bridal 
 with their sister Hesione. 
 
 Thereupon lo enters, horned like a heifer, driven frantic by 
 the gad-fly, at the suggestion of Here s jealous hatred, and bursts 
 into a series of ravings, in a lyrical ode. She is astonished at the 
 recognition of herself by Prometheus, and his knowledge of her 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 parentage and history ; and, in a second ode, implores him to 
 inform her who he is, wherefore he suffers here, and what shall 
 be the termination of her own sorrows and wanderings. After 
 a somewhat tedious dialogue in alternate verses, it is determin 
 ed that lo shall first relate, for the benefit of the Chorus, the 
 origin of her evils. This she proceeds to do, in a long speech, 
 descriptive of those divine dreams which haunted her virgin 
 sleep, suggesting the passion of Zeus for her ; of her father s 
 fruitless consultation at the oracles ; of the last denunciation, 
 which compelled Inachos to banish her ; of the transformation 
 of her person, and the distraction of her mind ; of her persecu 
 tion by the gad-fly; of the death of the giant Argos ; and, final 
 ly, of her arrival at the Scythian glen. Thereafter Prometheus 
 describes, at length, her future wanderings, thence to the 
 land of the Scythians, Chalybians, and Amazons, which last, 
 he tells her, shall conduct her safely to the Cimmerian isthmus, 
 at the gate of the Mseotic strait, which she is directed boldly 
 to swim over, quitting European ground for the Asiatic conti 
 nent. A dialogue again ensues, after which Prometheus re 
 sumes his narrative of her future woes, telling her that she 
 must travel thence, having passed the channel dividing the two 
 continents, due eastward till she reaches the plains where dwell 
 the Phorkides and Gorgons ; thence, by the Gryphons and the 
 one-eyed Arimaspians, still eastward to the black tribes and 
 the ^Ethiop River; which she is directed to follow till she shall 
 arrive at the Cataract of the Nile, whence she is to descend 
 the river to the Delta, where it is fated that she and her pos 
 terity shall found a great and glorious colony. 
 
 After this, again, in order to give her confidence in the truth 
 of his words, he relates her previous wanderings from the 
 plains of Argos, over the Molossian land, to Dodone, and 
 thence to the lower part of the Gulf of Rhea, which shall be 
 called Ionian for ever, in memory of her swimming across it. 
 Thence he digresses to her posterity ; telling how, at Canopus, 
 on the Delta of the Nile, she shall be restored to her senses by 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 the touch of the hand of Zeus, in consequence of which touch 
 she will bear one who shall be progenitor in the fifth genera 
 tion of the Danaides ; and that these, flying from the marriage 
 of their cousins, the sons of Aigyptos, shall return again to 
 Argos. That there Hypermnestra, who alone shall spare her 
 husband Lynkeus, all her sisters murdering their bridegrooms, 
 shall bear a royal race ; whence, after many generations, 
 shall be born one brave, and famous with the bow, who shall 
 release him from his bonds. The Chorus burst into an ode 
 deprecatory of unequal marriages. Prometheus, encouraged 
 and excited by the prophecy of his own release, commences a 
 strain of bitter prophetic invective against Zeus, announcing 
 his downfall by the superiority of his own son, begotten of 
 some future marriage. Hermes arrives, proclaiming fresh 
 torture to Prometheus, unless he shall explain the prophecy, 
 and disclose what is the marriage which shall prove so fatal to 
 Zeus. This Prometheus refuses to do, defies Zeus, and an 
 nounces his unalterable resolution never to reveal one word 
 until his chains shall be loosed. Hermes declares what shall 
 follow, the thunder-striking of Prometheus, his being cast 
 into Tartaros, and again sent up to the light of day, where the 
 eagle shall daily devour his liver. The Chorus advise submis 
 sion. Prometheus, in bold and grand iambics, affirms his knowl 
 edge of all that shall come to pass ; defies Zeus to do his worst ; 
 for that, at least, he can never kill him. Hermes warns the 
 Chorus to leave Prometheus to his fate, which they indignantly 
 refuse ; and the destruction commences, Prometheus describing 
 it, still undaunted and unyielding, and falling into the abyss in 
 the midst of his invocation to his mother Themis, and to the 
 Ether, which contains the light and life of the world, to behold 
 how unjustly he suffers. Thus ends the drama of Prometheus 
 Fettered. 
 
 It will doubtless appear, at first sight, to the English reader,, 
 that there is no direct action or progression of events ; that the 
 catastrophe is destructive of virtue, and therefore at variance 
 
10 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 with poetical justice ; and, lastly, that the episode of lo is in 
 troduced nothing to the purpose, and unconnected with the 
 interest of the piece. On reflection, however, we shall find 
 that none of this is the case. Action, it is true, there is, literal 
 ly speaking, none; but progression of events,. which is dra 
 matic action, there is abundantly, and tending straight to the 
 catastrophe. 
 
 Prometheus is introduced, first punished for his benevolence 
 to mortals. To the Chorus, and to Okeanos, he indulges in 
 blind and dark denunciations of Zeus ; this is the commence 
 ment of the onward action, the beginning of his new crime, 
 which in the end draws on him new retribution. lo arrives, 
 and her arrival suggests to him a species of wild consolation, as 
 he recognizes in her the progenitrix of the demigod Herakles, 
 who is predestined, in after days, to release him. Consoled by 
 this, he indulges in fresh denunciations, and relates to lo her 
 whole future doom, thus incensing Zeus still farther; and, to 
 complete his offending, he speaks out concerning the marriage 
 which he says Zeus is planning to contract, in consequence of 
 which, if contracted, he shall fall, a marriage which no one 
 of the Gods knows, or can divulge, but himself alone. In con 
 sequence of refusing to declare distinctly what that marriage 
 shall be, he is punished, as it had been proclaimed that he 
 should be in case of obdurate silence. Thus we have an on 
 ward progress of events, tending to a catastrophe ; we have 
 the introduction of lo, not an episode, but the keystone of the 
 plot; and, lastly, we have a catastrophe, grand, piteous, and in 
 every way worthy of the majesty of the great drama. 
 
 With regard to its accordance with poetical justice, we have 
 two things to observe ; first, that, were there any such thing as 
 poetical justice as a law of the Greek drama, its non-observance 
 here could not be complained of with propriety, this drama 
 being only the second of a trilogy, the first of which was 
 the Fire-bearing Prometheus, and the last the Prometheus 
 Released. Both of these are unfortunately lost ; a few 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 fragments only of the latter having been preserved by Arrian, 
 Strabo, Galen, Plutarch, and others. These fragments are, 
 however, sufficient to show, if the names were not, that the 
 plot of this tragedy was the release of Prometheus by Herakles, 
 his reconciliation with Zeus, his restoration to his goodly state, 
 and his explanation of the prophecies concerning the disastrous 
 marriage, by which explanation the throne of heaven is pre 
 served to its present owner. This marriage, by the way, was 
 that which Zeus proposed to contract with Thetis. It was 
 foredoomed by a most secret destiny, beyond the ken of Zeus, 
 that she should bear a son, mightier than his father. Had 
 Zeus therefore wedded her, he must have fallen from his 
 throne in heaven. Learning this, however, from Prometheus, 
 he gave her to Peleus, to whom she bore Achilles, greater than 
 Peleus, and thereby the predestined woes were transferred 
 from heaven to earth, and accomplished by the fall of Troy, 
 and by the consummation of the dark destinies of the house of 
 Atreus. 
 
 The truth, however, is, that the idea of poetical justice is 
 entirely modern, the old Greek masters knew it not. Des 
 tiny, and not justice, was the grand principle which they loved 
 to celebrate ; and virtue, not rewarded, but struggling resolutely 
 and dauntlessly against the wrongs of Fate, was the spectacle 
 which they deemed noblest and most worthy the tragic lyre. 
 Poetical justice is, indeed, as has been brilliantly and truth 
 fully observed by a popular and ingenious writer,* after all but 
 " a poor and petty morality, a justice existing not in our work 
 day world ; a justice existing not in the sombre page of his 
 tory ; a justice existing not in the loftier conceptions of men 
 whose genius has grappled with the enigmas which art and 
 poetry only can foreshadow and divine, unknown to us in the 
 street and the market, unknown to us on the scaffold of the 
 patriot, or in the flame of the martyr, unknown to us in the 
 
 * Bulwer, in " The Last of the Barons." 
 
12 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Lear and the Hamlet, in the Agamemnon and the Prome 
 theus"; and, he might have added, unknown entirely, as a 
 principle of composition, to any one of the great old trage 
 dians. 
 
 It would be curious to observe, in a synopsis of the wander 
 ings of lo, the strange and crude ideas of geography entertained 
 by the wisest of the wise and polished Greeks. But as the 
 question is one of antiquarian, rather than of poetical interest, 
 and is, besides, full of difficulty from the irreconcilable errors 
 of the dramatist, we refrain from touching upon its details. 
 We cannot but believe, however, that in some sort the mythi 
 cal wanderings of lo are intended to adumbrate the origin and 
 voyages of the Ionian race ; their crossing the Ionian Gulf, and 
 colonizing the southeastern coast of Italy, thence known as 
 Magna Grecia ; their colonizing all the Thracian Chersonese, 
 and all the shores both north and south of the Black Sea ; and 
 their trading with the ^Egyptian cities of the Delta, where the 
 horned Isis, similar to the horned lo, would naturally lead to 
 the idea of a common origin. It is not here unworthy of men 
 tion, that, according to Diodorus Siculus, the Ionian Greeks 
 were allowed only to trade with the ^Egyptian Delta through 
 that mouth of the Nile on which stood the city of Canopus, 
 mentioned in the text of the tragedy as colonized by lo s 
 progeny. 
 
 Trusting that the remarks prefixed to the translation of the 
 Prometheus Fettered may neither appear superfluous to learn 
 ed, nor wearisome to unlearned readers, I submit to them the 
 text of one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, of the 
 time-honored tragedies of Athens. 
 
PERSONS OF THE PROMETHEUS. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 FORCE. 
 
 HEPIIAISTOS. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 CHORUS, of Ocean Nymphs. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 lo, the daughter of Inachos. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 The scene is a wild and rocky glen in the gorges of the Scythian Caucasus. It 
 must be understood, however, that the Caucasus of JKschylus is situate in 
 Europe, far to the north and west of its true position. 
 
 The time is not defined, but the action is directly continuous. 
 
 STRENGTH, FORCE, HEPHAISTOS, PROMETHEUS. 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 WE have arrived the outmost tract of earth, 
 
 The Scythian waste, the pathless solitude, 
 
 And thine it is, Hephaistos, to enforce 
 
 The Sire s injunctions, high on towering crags 
 
 This strong one insolent to fetter fast 5 
 
 In deathless bonds of adamantine chain ; 
 
 "Who thine own flower of all-creative flame 
 
 Stole, and to mortals gave ; and so must pay 
 
 The wrathful Gods his rank offence s fine, 
 
 Taught by hard sufferance to revere the sway 10 
 
 Of Zeus supreme, and cease his love for men. 
 
16 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 
 Strength and Force, on you, too, Zeus command 
 Is binding, and nought hinders; but, for me, 
 
 1 lack the hardihood by might to bind 
 
 In this wild-winter gorge a kindred God. 15 
 
 Yet must I now that hardihood put on, 
 
 Or brave dread wrath, and scorn the Sire s decree. 
 
 Unwilling, therefore, thee, unwilling quite, 
 
 In difficult bonds, lofty-minded child 
 
 Of that right-counselling Themis, I must nail 20 
 
 To this wild rock, from mortal haunts afar; 
 
 Where neither voice nor any form of men 
 
 Descrying, burnt by the sun s scorching blaze, 
 
 Thy skin s fair flower shalt change. Then glad to thee 
 
 Shall starry-mantled night blot out the day, 25 
 
 Glad the sun scatter the hoar dews of morn. 
 
 For aye the bitterness of present pain 
 
 Shall sting; and he is yet to be conceived 
 
 Who shall release thee. This must thou endure 
 
 For thy man-loving mood, who, though a God, 30 
 
 Didst give to earthlings, in the Gods despite, 
 
 Honor undue. Then guard this rock of woe, 
 
 Upstanding, sleepless, with unbended knee, 
 
 And many a wail send forth, and fruitless moan ; 
 
 For most inexorable is the will of Zeus, 35 
 
 And stern the rule of all whose rule is new. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 Why loiterest thou, and if it e en be so, 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 17 
 
 In pity for this God to Gods a foe, 
 Who gave thy glory to the worms below ? 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Kindred and friendship are connections strong. 40 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 They are. But how the mandates high to wrong 
 Of Father Zeus ? More fearful this, I trow. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 
 Pitiless ever, full of daring, thou. 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 For nought it vaileth him to mourn, nor thee 
 Fondly to toil for what shall never be. 45 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 
 much detested handicraft of mine ! 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Wherefore detested? since, in simple line, 
 Thy woes have nought against thine art to cry. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Would that some other owned that art, not I ! 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 All is foredoomed save Heaven s immortal throne, 50 
 For none are free, excepting Zeus alone. 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 
 1 know it, and have nothing to gainsay. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Then why to fetter him so long delay? 
 Haste ! lest the Sire shall see thee idly stand. 
 2* 
 
18 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 And lo ! the fetters ready to thine hand ! 55 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Take him, and round his wrists the forceful chain 
 Hard rivet, pin it to the rocks amain. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 The deed is done ! there is no loitering here. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Strike, strike again! strike on! cease not for fear. 
 For strong is he all bonds aside to cast. 60 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 
 Behold this arm inextricably fast. 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Then link this other firm. So let him know 
 Himself in argument great Zeus below. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Save this one only, none can blame me now. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Now through his breast drive fiercely, drive the edge 65 
 Of the strong, upright adamantine wedge ! 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Ay me ! Prometheus, thy woes I bemoan. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Still dost thou pause, for the foes of Zeus to groan ? 
 See that thyself thou hold from wailing free ! 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Thou look st upon a sight most sad to see. 70 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 19 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 I see him suffering his deserts reward. 
 Now round his loins bind thou the cincture hard. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Done must it be ! but thou command no more ! 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Command I will, yea ! and enforce thee sore ! 
 Go down, and ring his legs with gyves about. 75 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 This too is done, before thy words are out. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Now stoutly clinch the circular shackles on. 
 Severe is he for whom the work is done. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 Thy savage words suit well thy form of fear. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Shrink, falter thou! blame not my mood severe, 80 
 
 Nor the rough harshness of my daring heart. 
 
 HEPHAISTOS. 
 His limbs are fettered fast. Let us depart! 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 Insult thou there ! and steal from the great Gods 
 Their wealth, to waste on earth-worms ! Do it, and see 
 Which of thy woes these mortals shall allay ! 85 
 
 Most sure the Gods mis-styled thee sage and wise, 
 Prometheus, who dost need a prophet s toil 
 To teach thee how to shuffle off this coil. 
 
 They all <jo off, having PROMETHEUS chained aloft to a high rock in the centre 
 of the stage. 
 
20 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 heavenly ether, and swift-pinioned winds, 
 
 And founts of rivers, and of ocean waves 90 
 
 Laughter innumerous, and thou, mother Earth, 
 
 Parent of all, and thine all-seeing orb, 
 
 Helios, I invoke ! Behold ! behold ! 
 
 What wrongs, myself a God, from Gods I bear. 
 
 Sec by what tortures rent asunder 95 
 
 Myriads of ages here must I languish ; 
 So base a chain 
 
 Has this new wielder of the thunder 
 
 Contrived, to glut against me his strong hate. 
 
 Woe ! woe ! the present and the future anguish 100 
 
 Compel my soul unwilling to complain ! 
 
 When, when, or by what fate, 
 Shall these ages of agony terminate ? 
 And yet what say I, I, whose prescient ken 
 So knows the future that nought strange or new ior> 
 Can come to grieve me ? Best, then, to endure 
 Lightly the doom that still endured must be, 
 Knowing that fate will have its destined way. 
 Now neither to conceal nor tell my woes 
 Is left to me ; by destiny severe no 
 
 Thus yoked ay me ! for gifts to mortals given. 
 For I it was the wondrous reed who bore 
 Filled with that stolen fount of fire divine, 
 Source of all arts, all happiness, to men. 
 And thence I writhe, on these harsh summits high, ]J5 
 In penal bonds, between the earth and sky. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 21 
 
 But ay ! ay me ! 
 
 What sound is this ? what viewless perfume rare, 
 
 Mortal, divine, or mingled, loads the air ? 
 
 Who is t that comes to this remotest rock ? 120 
 
 With what intent, unless my woes to mock ? 
 
 Behold me fettered here, that wretched God, 
 
 The defyer of Zeus, the detested of all 
 
 The Immortals who throng to the Thunderer s hall, 
 For that men I did over-revere. 125 
 
 Ay me ! what a rush as of birds is on high ! 
 
 What a whistling of pinions is loud in the sky ! 
 Nothing comes but is pregnant with fear. 
 
 THE CHORUS of Okeanides enter in mid air, borne in a winged chariot, 
 drawn by birds, and singing while they hover above the rock, before alighting. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe i. 
 
 Nothing fear. For this our band 
 
 Friendly, in the strife 130 
 
 Of rapid pinions vying, 
 Hath approached this land. 
 Hardly won our Sire s consent, 
 Light airs bore us swiftly flying, 
 
 For the iron-echoing clang, 135 
 
 Piercing to our inmost cave, 
 Quickly from our bosoms drave 
 Shamefaced fear; whereat we sprang, 
 Sudden with unsandalled feet, 
 To our winged chariot fleet. 140 
 
22 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Alas ! then, and welladay ! 
 Ye children of Tethys, high queen of the sea, 
 And of ocean, whose restless and weariless spray 
 Whirls round the wide nations, see ! see ! and survey 
 How dread, in these torturing fetters of mine, 145 
 
 Hard-bound on this mountainous summit, to pine. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 This, Prometheus, I have seen. 
 
 Sadly o er mine eyes 
 
 In misty volumes tearful 
 
 Pity draws her screen, 150 
 
 As thy godlike form I see, 
 
 Wasting on these summits fearful, 
 
 Bound in links of iron fate. 
 
 Helmsmen new, I ween, to-day 
 
 Hold on high Olympos sway; 155 
 
 With recent laws, and ruthless hate, 
 
 Zeus rules ; that the great of yore 
 
 Grand shall be and great no more, 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Beneath the glad earth with the dead, dark and cold, 
 I would I were chained in the bottomless pit, JGO 
 
 That alone in my agonies there I might sit, 
 Where none should insult me of Gods or of men. 
 But now, in the gorge of this desolate glen, 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 23 
 
 I waver and waste in the soul-piercing air, 
 
 While my enemies mock my despair. 165 
 
 CRORUS. 
 Strophe n. 
 
 What god is so hard of soul, 
 To revel in thy moan ? 
 Who can his tears control 
 Save Zeus alone? 
 
 For he, revengeful still, 170 
 
 And unappeased of will, 
 Subdues the heavenly race. 
 Nor shall he cease his hate, 
 Until his heart be satiate, 
 
 Unless some stronger one arise, 175 
 
 And win by force his royal place, 
 A perilous emprise. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Yet, yet shall he need me, though now he may grieve 
 My spirit in chains. He shall need me, I know, 
 Though he lord it so grandly, to teach him the foe iso 
 Whose craft shall despoil him of sceptre and sway ! 
 Yet he shall not persuade me, how sweetly so e er 
 His honeyed persuasions he round in mine ear. 
 Nor yet, though he threaten for ever and aye, 
 Will I quail at his threats, or one tittle declare, 185 
 Till he loosen my bonds, and all gladly repair 
 The wrongs he has done me to-day ! 
 
24 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 Daring still and dauntless thou, 
 Who to thy tortures dread 
 
 Vouchsafest not to bow 190 
 
 Thy haughty head ! 
 Wild wax thy words and sore. 
 And to my heart s deep core 
 Fear thrills me, that I grieve 
 
 And now almost despair, 195 
 
 Marking thy fortunes, where, 
 Woes ended, thou shalt land secure ; 
 For Kronos son grants no reprieve, 
 Whose rage doth aye endure. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Well know I that Zeus is relentless as fate, 200 
 
 That his power is his measure of justice and right ; 
 Yet well I believe he will lower his state, 
 When he finds himself battling with destiny s might. 
 Then, then, when his soul hath repented its hate, 
 He shall sue for my friendship, my pardon shall crave, 205 
 For so only his throne shall he save. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Unburden thou thy sorrows all, and name 
 The unpardoned sin of which convict the Sire 
 With agonies so shameful and severe 
 Torments thee. Tell, if naught forbid the tale ! 210 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 25 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 To utter this ye ask me woe it is, 
 Woe not to utter it, grief every way. 
 When first the Gods gan rage, and civil strife 
 Each against other kindled, from his seat 
 These resolute eldest Kronos to unthrone 215 
 
 That Zeus in his stead should reign, as firm the rest 
 That o er the Gods Zeus ne er sublime should sit, 
 Well though I counselled, I persuaded not 
 The brood of heaven and earth, the Titans strong. 
 For in their glorious daring, haught and high, 220 
 
 They mocked my schemes .elaborate, and dreamed, 
 By force alone, right easy lords to be. 
 But me my mother, Themis, and Earth too, 
 One form of many names, not once alone 
 Foreshowed the future, how it should fall out, 225 
 
 But many times ; that not by the strong hand 
 T was given our masters forcibly to quell, 
 But by sure craft. Though I outspake it clear, 
 With eyes self-blind, this deigned they not to see. 
 Then did I judge it wisest, meet ally, 230 
 
 As thus their counsels stood, my parent sage 
 Electing, to assist with willing aid 
 Zeus, willing too. I it was, even I, 
 Who so did school him, that the black abysm 
 Of deepest Tartaros, with his puissant crew, 235 
 
 Closed over Kronos old. These be the debts 
 Which he doth owe me, these he doth repay, 
 
26 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 The tyrant of the Gods, with wrong for right, 
 
 Since tyranny hath still this rank disease, 
 
 That friends it trusts not. Therefore what ye ask, 240 
 
 The sin for which he wrings me, hear ! I tell. 
 
 That instant when he filled in haughty pride 
 
 His father s throne, to all the Gods he gave 
 
 To each his several power, to each his sway 
 
 Assigned. But for that wretched race of men 345 
 
 No word he held, -but to abolish all, 
 
 For ever, and a different seed to sow. 
 
 And none but I opposed it, none but I, 
 
 Bold in the right. I rescued them, I say, 
 
 That Hades held them not that very day. 250 
 
 For this I writhe, for this, in pangs, ay me ! 
 
 Fearful to bear, and piteous to behold ! 
 
 Mortals who pitied erst, myself I find 
 
 No pity now, in this abhorred plight 
 
 Chained ruthlessly, to Zeus a shameful sight. 255 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Steel-minded he, and formed of hardest flint, 
 Who, Prometheus, sympathizes not 
 With thee. Thy toils I wished not to behold, 
 And now, beholding, sorrow to my soul. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Sad sight indeed am I for friends to see. SCO 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Didst do no more than thou hast told to me? 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 27 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 I spared mankind the foresight of their fate. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What cure contriving for their desperate state ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Blind hopes I planted in their hearts to bloom. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 A mighty antidote to such a doom. 265 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Nay, more ! I gave them fire s immortal ray. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Have they bright fire, those creatures of a day ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 They have ; that thence full many an art shall flow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And is t for this that Zeus torments thee so, 
 Relaxing nought of thine unearthly woe ? 270 
 
 And have thy tortures no allotted time ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 None, save the motion of his will sublime. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What wilt thou do ? what hope ? Nay ! seest thou not 
 That thou hast sinned ? how sinned it were for me 
 No pleasure to relate, and pain for thee. 275 
 
 Pass that, and seek some change of this thy lot. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Easy it is for him whose foot is free 
 From sorrow s net to counsel and to blame 
 
28 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 The wretched. But, for me, I knew the whole, 
 
 And knowing sinned, ay, knowing ! nor will now 280 
 
 Deny it. Saving men, myself I lost ; 
 
 Yet thought not then that by such toils as these 
 
 I should be wasted, on precipitous rocks, 
 
 Here in this desolate and lonely glen. 
 
 Yet mourn not ye this present weight of woe, 285 
 
 But, here alighting, future fates to learn 
 
 Apply ye, so the rest to comprehend. 
 
 Obey, obey me, wisely sympathize 
 
 With who now grieves. Woe sits not still, I say, 
 
 But flits from each to other, day by day ! 290 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 You have said, Prometheus, and willing are we 
 To spring from our chariot with fleet foot and free, 
 To quit the pure ether, through which we have driven 
 Our sea-birds, the couriers of ocean and heaven, 
 Our delicate feet on these rude rocks to press, 295 
 
 And to learn all thy tale of distress. 
 
 Enter to the above OKEANOS, riding on a winged sea-horse. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 Prometheus, I come to the term of my road, 
 Speeding toward thee my wearisome way, 
 Sure-steering this swift-winged steed of the sea, 
 Unbitted, unbridled, to where I would be. 300 
 
 But, believe me, thy sorrows I sorrow to know, 
 E en as kindred compels me ; but, kinsman or no, 
 There is no one on whom I would lavish, I trow, 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 29 
 
 A happier fortune than thou. 
 
 And this thou mayst count as truth, for my tongue 305 
 
 Knows not to flatter. So up ! and show 
 
 How I may aid thee, by word or deed, 
 
 For ne er shalt say thou hast a friend 
 
 Than Okeanos, through weal and woe, 
 
 Trustier to the end. 310 
 
 PROMETHEUS, 
 
 Hold ! what is this ? Hast thou come, too, 
 My woes to measure ? How hast thou endured 
 Thy flood to leave synonymous, and caves 
 Rock-roofed, self-hollowed, for this lonely land, 
 Mother of iron ? Is it my wrongs to see 315 
 
 That called thee thence, and with my griefs to grieve ? 
 Then see a marvel! me, the friend of Zeus, 
 Who built for him his tyranny so sure, 
 What anguish at his hands I now endure. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 I see, Prometheus ; and would counsel thee, 320 
 
 Although I know thee crafty, for the best. 
 Know thou thyself, and study to put on 
 New manners, for the King of the Gods is new. 
 But if such keen and bitter-pointed words 
 Thou shootest, though so far aloof he sit, 325 
 
 Zeus yet shall hear thee, that the ills thou hast 
 Will but as child s play seem to what shall be. 
 Come, then, unhappy, let thy rage die out, 
 And seek remission of thy woes, nor deem 
 
 3* 
 
30 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 My counsels out of fashion. For these things 330 
 
 Which thou endurest are the sure reward, 
 
 Prometheus, of an over-vaunting tongue. 
 
 And nothing humble art thou, nor by thine ills 
 
 Subdued, but to thy present sufferings 
 
 Suffering wouldst rather add. Of me, then, learn, 335 
 
 i Kick not against the spur, for rude is he 
 
 Who rides, sole ruler whom no force can shake. 
 
 And now I hie me hence, if it so may be, 
 
 To win for thee remission and release 
 
 From penance ; but be silent thou, nor rail, 340 
 
 Mad-mouthed. For know st thou not, so wise who art, 
 
 That idle tongues provoke the sorest smart ? 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Almost I envy thee who hast no ill, 
 
 Though side by side with me didst dare and do. 
 
 Let these things be, nor take thou heed of them. 345 
 Him wilt thou not persuade, who easy is not 
 Whom to persuade ; but well thyself mayest rue 
 The vain endeavour. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 Ever to advise 
 
 Others wert abler than thyself to rule. 
 By facts, not words, judge I. Then seek not thou 350 
 To turn me from my purpose. Sure I am 
 That Zeus this boon will grant me thy release. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 This I approve in thee, and ever shall. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 31 
 
 For willingness thou nothing lackest. Yet 
 
 Toil not for me, for vainly shalt thou toil, 355 
 
 Nothing assisting me, if toil thou wilt. 
 
 Hold silence, therefore, and, from peril aloof, 
 
 Risk nothing ; for although myself a wretch, 
 
 Not therefore would I see all others so. 
 
 For, of a truth, my brother s weariful fate 360 
 
 Afflicts me ; Atlas , who stands far i the west, 
 
 And long hath stood, on his brawny shoulders broad 
 
 Propping the earthfast pillar of the skies, 
 
 Burden prodigious. Nor do I pity not, 
 
 Whom I saw once, the hostile giant grim, 365 
 
 The earthborn inmate of Kilikian caves, 
 
 The hundred-headed, violently quelled, 
 
 Impetuous Typhon. Against all the Gods 
 
 He stood defiant, from his terrible jaws 
 
 Hissing red slaughter, flashing from his eyes 370 
 
 The lurid glare of lightning, e en as who 
 
 The realm of Zeus by force ^hould overthrow. 
 
 But him erewhile the sleepless shaft of God, 
 
 The headlong thunderbolt outbreathing flame, 
 
 Overtook, and smote him sheer from his loud vaunts 375 
 
 Blasphemous. For, to his right mind scourged back, 
 
 His might was thunderstruck and scorched to dust. 
 
 And now, a worthless and dishonored trunk, 
 
 Outstretched hard by the billowy strait he lies, 
 
 Crushed underneath the roots of Aitna old, 380 
 
 Where, sitting on the loftiest peaks sublime, 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Hephaistos plies his stithy; whence burst out 
 
 Rivers of fire sometime, with savage jaws 
 
 Devouring sweet Sikelia s lilied lawns. 
 
 With such fell vengeance Typhon still o erboils, 385 
 
 And desolating storms of flame-breathed hate 
 
 Insatiate, although thunderstruck of Zeus. 
 
 But thou nor ignorant art, nor needest me 
 
 To teach thee. Save thyself as best thou canst ; 
 
 And I my present lot will bravely bear 390 
 
 Until the soul of Zeus from rage shall rest. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 Say, Prometheus, hast thou never heard 
 The cure of the sick heart, the gentle word ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Ay ! If the heart be softly soothed to the right, 
 Not if it strive, and be subdued by might. 395 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 But in sage caution and endurance stern 
 Seest thou so shameful aught ? This would I learn. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 I see superfluous labor, folly vain. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 Let me, then, still of this disease complain ; 
 Since best it is to be wise, and not seem sou 400 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 This which thou praisest is my sin, I know. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 Thy speech directly speeds me home again. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 33 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Ay! before wrath o ertake thee from my pain. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 What ? wrath from him who rules in new-got state ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Of him beware, lest his soul wake to hate. 405 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 Thy fate should teach me this, though I were blind. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Hence, then! away! preserve thy present mind. 
 
 OKEANOS. 
 
 You speak to who not needs it, but departs ; 
 For my winged courser beats the intrenchant air 
 With his swift-gliding pinion. Glad shall he be 410 
 
 In his own stall to bend his weary knee. 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe i. 
 
 Thy piteous fortunes I deplore, 
 Prometheus ; and mine eyes outpour 
 Torrents of tears, 
 
 Which, down my pale cheeks stealing, 415 
 
 Reveal the sympathies of tenderest feeling. 
 For Zeus by self-made edicts new 
 Inflicts this grievous fate, 
 Showing his temper stern and cruel 
 To those who were so great, 420 
 
 The Gods of yore. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Antislrophe I. 
 
 And now, the universe throughout, 
 Sullen and deep the wail breaks out, 
 That empire old 
 
 Majestical bemoaning 405 
 
 And moderate, with heavy sound of groaning, 
 Which thou and thine did sway. 
 All those, i the Asian plain 
 Who sojourn, weep thy sorrows woful, 
 Though they be mortal men, 430 
 
 And till the ground; 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 All they who dwell on Kolchian strand, 
 Virgins, who scorn to shake 
 In the battle s hurly dread ; 
 
 And the Scythian hordes who tread 435 
 
 The farthest pastured land, 
 Hard by the brink of that Maiotic lake ; 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 And fierce Arabia s martial flower, 
 
 And they who to the hold 
 
 Perched on the crags sublime 440 
 
 Of Kaukasos upclimb, 
 
 A strange and hostile power, 
 
 Bristled with lances keen, savage, and bold. 
 
 Epode. 
 
 One other have I seen before, 
 One other of the Titans only, 445 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 35 
 
 Atlas, in adamantine chains, 
 
 Tortured with deathless pains ; 
 
 Who, friendless in the west and lonely, 
 
 The weight o er whelming of the starry pole 
 
 Groaning on his shoulder bears. 450 
 
 In sympathy the sea-wave groans, 
 
 Groans the abyss, and under ground 
 
 Black Hades roars with hollow sound ; 
 
 While sacred rivers, murmuring as they flow 
 
 From their pure founts, bewail the giant s woe. 455 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Not delicate, nor haughty in self-pride, 
 Believe that I hold silent. In deep thought 
 Rather eat I mine heart, myself who see 
 Thus in the toils ; and yet who else but I 
 Gave these new Gods the Godhead which they hold? 460 
 But this I speak not of. For this ye know 
 Already. But my sinnings in behalf of men 
 Now listen, how I made them, from being dumb 
 And senseless, mindful and instinct with soul. 
 For I will tell ye, blaming men in nought, 465 
 
 But claiming favor for the good I gave, 
 Who, though they saw before, yet saw in vain, 
 And, hearing, did hear nothing, but, like shapes 
 Of empty dreams, all things confused and mixed 
 At random, heedlessly ; nor knew to build 470 
 
 Houses of brick, sun-facing, nor of wood, 
 But, groping under ground, like wind-borne ants, 
 
36 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 In caverns dwelt unvisited of clay. 
 
 Nor was it given to them the winter s cold 
 
 From flowery spring-time or the fruitful fall 475 
 
 How surely to distinguish. Without thought 
 
 All that they did was done, until I showed 
 
 The risings of the stars, and settings too, 
 
 Most difficult to judge. Of wisest gifts 
 
 The wisest, numbers I bestowed on them ; 480 
 
 And harmony of speech, and, powerful all, 
 
 The mother of the Muses, memory. 
 
 I first it was who, subject to the yoke, 
 
 Cattle compelled to draw, and to the car 
 
 Harnessed steeds rein-obeying, the proud gems 485 
 
 Of wealthiest state, vicegerents to become 
 
 Of toil for mortals, and their bodies to spare. 
 
 Nor any other framed than I alone 
 
 The canvas-pinioned chariots of the sea, 
 
 The strength of sailors. Yet who found all these 490 
 
 For mortals find myself no scheme whereby 
 
 This present anguish I may hope to fly. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Base penalty indeed hast undergone, 
 Who by a mind diseased hast fallen. Alack! 
 A helpless leech, who, smitten by despair, 495 
 
 In sickness hast no drug thyself to cure. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 When thou hast heard the whole, wilt wonder more, 
 What arts I did invent, and sage designs 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 37 
 
 Benevolent. The greatest this. If one 
 
 Fell ill, no remedy there was of draught, 500 
 
 Or chrism, or edible. Men wore away, 
 
 For very lack of medicines ; until I 
 
 Taught them of healing drugs the mixture mild, 
 
 By which of all disease is certain cure. 
 
 Of divination, too, modes more than one 505 
 
 I ordered, and distinction made, the first, 
 
 Between true visions and mere dreams of night ; 
 
 Nor taught them not the omens, hard to teach, 
 
 From voices drawn ; and wayside symbols true 
 
 Of fierce crook-taloned birds, which way they fly, 510 
 
 To the right hand or leftward, and the food 
 
 Appropriate of each ; and how they dwell, 
 
 Hostile, or friendly in companionship. 
 
 Of entrails, too, the lustre, and the tints 
 
 Which show the Gods well pleased, I gave to know, 515 
 
 The gall, and varied liver s healthful hue. 
 
 The thighs enveloped in rich cauls of fat 
 
 With fire consuming, and the mighty loin, 
 
 I guided mortals on the difficult road 
 
 Haruspical; and to the flaming signs, 520 
 
 Which erst illegible were, made ope their eyes 
 
 That they should read them clear. Such things are so. 
 
 But wondrous treasures subterranean, hid 
 
 In vasty caves, brass, steel, silver, and gold, 
 
 Who, if not I, may boast to have revealed ? 525 
 
 No one, I ween, unless him lists to lie. 
 
38 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 In one short word, at once to sum the whole, 
 All arts that mortals have they have from me. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Now, therefore, mortals seek not to assist 
 Unduly, taking for thyself no heed, 530 
 
 Who suiferest so sore. Good hopes have I 
 That, from these cruel chains released and free, 
 Thee nought to Zeus inferior shall I see. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Not this way is the fulness of my doom 
 Decreed to be accomplished. Nor, till bent 535 
 
 By weary woes unnumbered, shall I scape 
 This chain. For art is weaker far than fate. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Who sits at the helm to rule how fate shall be ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 The three-formed Fates and watchful Furies three. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 And Zeus himself less puissant is than these ? 540 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 At least he may not shun their stern decrees. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What is decreed to Zeus but aye to reign ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 This though thou learn not, ask it not again. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Some solemn secret it is, thou wouldst conceal. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 39 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Some other topic choose. This to reveal 545 
 
 Time is not yet, but rather close to hide, 
 As hide I may; for, an I keep it so, 
 These chains I shall escape, and eke this woe. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe i. 
 
 May he, who all things holds in sway, 
 Great Zeus, may he 550 
 
 Ne er set my judgment and his will at twain ! 
 Nor let me e er the Gods offend, 
 All at their holy feasts of oxen slain, 
 Hard by old Ocean s quenchless main. 
 Nor sinful be my words, nor over free. 555 
 
 But may this faith of mine endure to the end, 
 Nor ever pass away. 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 Sweet, sweet it is long life to cheer 
 With hopes serenely bold, 
 
 Lapping the soul in pleasure s brightest ray. 560 
 
 But, thee while in this fearful glen 
 Writhing in hapless anguish I survey, 
 Shudders my spirit with dismay. 
 For thou, in self-opinion s sternest mould 
 Defying Zeus, this wretched race of men 565 
 
 Didst all too much revere. 
 
 Strophe n. 
 Come then, my friend, since woe thy love did wreak, 
 
40 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Say ! what relief wilt seek ? 
 What succour can from mortals come ? 
 0, see you not how weak, r )70 
 
 How dream-like, and how dumb, 
 In fitful blindness staggering to and fro, 
 Fettered the frail race go ? 
 No mortal wisdom shall o erstep the line, 
 That herns them in, of harmony divine. 575 
 
 Antistruphe n. 
 
 This did I learn, thine own sad fortune viewing, 
 
 Prometheus, and now ruing 
 
 The fateful change that hath come o er us, 
 
 Since we, in mirth pursuing 
 
 Thy steps, with all our chorus 5^0 
 
 From bridal bath to bridal bed did sins, 
 
 O 
 
 And gladly thou didst bring 
 
 Hesione, our father s daughter fair, 
 
 By gifts thy bride to be, thy couch to share. 
 
 Enter, to the above, lo, the daughter of Inachos, having the form and face of a 
 beautiful virgin, but horned like a heifer. 
 
 lo. 
 
 Monostrophe. 
 
 What land is this? what race arc ye ? what man do I behold 
 Here in rocky fetters 586 
 
 Shivering to the winter cold? 
 Tell me what the crime he rues. 
 Tell me whither upon earth 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 41 
 
 I have wandered, wretched me ! 590 
 
 0, again ! again, alas ! 
 
 I feel it pierce, with fatal smart, the gad-fly s fiery lance ! 
 
 I see the giant herdsman s ghost ! 
 
 Hide it ! hide it, mother earth ! 
 
 Wild I shudder, as I see 595 
 
 That unearthly guard advance, 
 
 Glaring on me evermore, 
 
 With ten thousand cunning eyes. 
 
 The grave doth not conceal him dead, from hell I see him 
 
 rise, 
 To chase me faint and frantical along the ocean shore. 600 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 Aye shrills the wax-bound reed its tremulous note, 
 Outpouring strains, that float 
 Loaded with slumberous influence on the air. 
 Where, ye gods, ah! where 
 
 Rest shall I find, these weary wanderings o er? 605 
 
 Wherefore, great Kronos son, 
 Wherefore hast yoked me to these tortures sore, 
 What evil having done ? 
 Why by the gad-fly s terror dread 
 
 Distract this fearful, frenzied head ? 610 
 
 0, burn me with fire, or entomb me in earth, 
 Or give me a prey to the monsters of ocean ; 
 But spurn not, King, 
 The prayer of my humble devotion ! 
 For sadly my far-goaded wanderings have wasted 615 
 
 4* 
 
42 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 My spirit, nor hope have I tasted 
 To escape from this terrible doom. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hearest thou the horned virgin s pitiful cry? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 How should I fail the gadfly-haunted girl 
 Of lnachos to hear, who fires the heart 620 
 
 Of Zeus with passion ? hence by Here s hate 
 Doomed to the horrors of this violent fate. 
 
 lo. 
 
 Antistrophe. 
 
 Whence hast thou learned my father s name to trace ? 
 
 To me, of the human race 
 
 Most wretched, speak, I pray thee ! tell me straight 625 
 
 Who art thou, that my fate 
 
 Hast learned, that dost declare so plain, 
 
 With utterance so true, 
 
 The heaven-sent plague, which tortures me amain, 
 
 Piercing me through and through 630 
 
 With shafts that waste my frantic soul, 
 
 And goad me forth beyond control? 
 
 I am driven, alas ! by the rancorous ire 
 
 Of Here, who hunts me with pitiless hate. 
 
 0, hapless are they who bemoan 635 
 
 Such sorrows ! But tell me my fate, 
 
 What more shall I suffer, what hope may I cherish ? 
 
 0, tell me, and let me not perish, 
 
 For my plague if thou knowest a cure. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 43 
 
 Speak ! speak ! and name the griefs I must endure. 640 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 All will I tell thee clear, all thou wouldst seek, 
 Not weaving riddles, but in plain, blunt speech ; 
 Since just it is among friends the mouth to ope ; 
 Thou seest Prometheus, giver of fire to men. 
 
 lo. 
 
 Donor to mortals of this boundless bliss, 645 
 
 sad Prometheus, sufferest thou for this ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 But now I cease my sufferings to bemoan. 
 
 lo. 
 Wilt thou not grant me, then, this boon alone ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Ask what you will, and all you ask obtain. 
 
 lo. 
 Say then, who bound thee to this rock of pain ? 650 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Hephaistos hand performed what Zeus decreed. 
 
 lo. 
 Of what offence is this the merciless meed ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Thus much to have revealed I rest content. 
 
 lo. 
 
 0, tell me yet the term that must be spent 
 In these wild wanderings ; when shall cease my woe ? 655 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Not to know this were better than to know. 
 
44 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 lo. 
 Hide not, I pray, the woes which I must bear. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 I grudge not truly these things to declare. 
 
 lo. 
 Then why delay aloud to speak the whole. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 I grudge it not, but fear to shake thy soul. 660 
 
 lo. 
 Fear not for me ; sweet is the boon I crave. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Hear, then, for speak I must, to one so brave. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hold yet, that we this pleasure too may share. 
 First let us learn the virgin s plague, herself 
 Revealing the disasters of her fate. 665 
 
 And then do thou her future toils relate. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 lo, these nymphs to gratify be thine, 
 E en were they not the sisters of thy sire ; 
 Since even to weep, and wail away thy woe, 
 Hath something sweet, whose every tearful cry 670 
 
 Draws kind response from kindly hearer s eye. 
 
 lo. 
 
 I know not why your faith I should distrust, 
 And therefore in plain speech what ye require 
 That shall ye hear, sore though it be to tell 
 This heaven-sent tempest, and this change of form, 675 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 45 
 
 How they befell most wretched me. For aye 
 
 Strange visions, hovering round my virgin bed 
 
 With words soft sounding through the stilly night, 
 
 Did tempt me, crying, "0 most fortunate girl, 
 
 Why pine so long a maid, to whom is given 680 
 
 To wed with the highest, by whose amorous shafts 
 
 Zeus is inflamed, fondly with thee to link 
 
 Sweet loveknots. Spurn no longer thou the bed 
 
 Of Zeus, fair daughter ; but to Lerne s mead 
 
 Deep-waving, and thy sire s ox-pastures green, 635 
 
 Go forth, and cure the enamoured monarch s pain ! " 
 
 Thus night by night with strangest forms of sleep 
 
 Still haunted, to my sire, in fear, at length 
 
 My dread night-coming dreams I did reveal. 
 
 Then he to Pytho and Dodone sent 690 
 
 Wisest consulters, at the shrines to learn 
 
 How, or by word or deed, the powers divine 
 
 He should propitiate. Back they came again, 
 
 Bearing responses couched in many tongues, 
 
 Dark, dubious, enigmatically told. 695 
 
 But in the end a message clear as day 
 
 Came unto Inachos, distinct and loud, 
 
 Charging him drive me from his roof, his realm, 
 
 An outcast wanderer to earth s utmost end ; 
 
 For let him doubt, Heaven s thunderous bolt should fall, 700 
 
 Annihilating realm, and race, and all! 
 
 By such responses of the Loxian God 
 
 Compelled, he drove, he locked me from his door, 
 
46 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Unwilling both. But him the curb of Zeus 
 
 Inevitable drave that deed to do. 705 
 
 My form was straight deformed, my mind distraught, 
 
 And horned, as you see me, was I driven, 
 
 With frantic bounds, before the shrilling hum 
 
 Of the swift breese, to sweet Kenchreia s stream, 
 
 And hills nigh Lerne. But the earth-born bulk 710 
 
 Of the fierce herdsman Argos followed on, 
 
 Tracking my foot with all his thousand eyes. 
 
 Him suddenly a doom all unforeseen 
 
 Deprived of life. I, tortured by Heaven s scourge, 
 
 The goading fly, from land to land roam on. 715 
 
 The past is told. If aught you have to tell 
 
 Of future toils, I pray you tell it ; but, ! 
 
 In pity soothe not with false words my woe ! 
 
 For deepest shames from feigned speeches flow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! 720 
 
 Hold ! and again alas ! 
 For ne er I thought 0, ne er before ! 
 Should words so strange and full of fear 
 Come to mine ear ; 
 
 Nor woes, nor plagues, nor terrors so untold, 725 
 
 And so intolerably great, 
 Should pierce with two-edged anguish cold 
 My spirit to the core. 
 Alas ! Fate ! Fate ! 
 I shudder as I see sad lo s state. 730 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 47 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Too soon thou groanest, art of fear too full ; 
 Wait till thou hearest all, and not a part. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Speak, tell it out. T is sweet for those who mourn 
 To learn the whole of that which must be borne. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 The former favor, it seems, ye won from me 735 
 
 Too lightly ; for at first you would be taught, 
 By her own tongue, this virgin s sorrow dread. 
 Hear now the rest, what pangs t is yet her doom 
 To bear from Here ; and give ear, thou child 
 Of Inachos, and take my words to heart; 740 
 
 So shalt thou know thy wandering steps to guide. 
 First henceward to the rising of the sun 
 Must turn thy face, and tread the uncultured vales, 
 And reach the Scythian Nomades, who dwell 
 In basket-woven houses, chariot-wheeled, 745 
 
 With shafts far-darting weaponed. These avoid, 
 And skirting aye the sea-beat rocks, that roar 
 To the white surge, pass onward. On thy left 
 Lie the Chalybians, iron-workers wise ; 
 Of whom beware, for fierce of mood are they, 750 
 
 To guests inhospitable, bloody, and strange. 
 Then shalt thou reach that torrent, rightly named 
 The Insolent; which cross not, for t is wild 
 And fordless, till to Kaukasos thou come, 
 Tallest of mountains, where from topmost peaks 755 
 
48 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Leaps the loud river. Mounting then the crags, 
 
 Lofty star-neighbours, take the southern way. 
 
 There shalt thou meet the Amazonian host, 
 
 Man-haters, who of yore the hold did found 
 
 Of Themiskyra by Thermodon s stream, 760 
 
 Where upon Salmydesia s foamy tusk 
 
 The white surf thunders, stepmother to ships, 
 
 Stern host to sailors. These thy guides shall be, 
 
 Till the Kimmerian isthmus be attained, 
 
 Hard by the narrow gates of that dread pool, 765 
 
 Which leaving, swim the deep Maiotic gulf 
 
 Stout-hearted. There for aye shall live the tale 
 
 Of thy strange feat, that men shall name it still 
 
 The Bosphorus, where swam the heifer o er. 
 
 Then, quitting old Europa s plain, shalt reach 770 
 
 The Asian continent. Now deem ye not 
 
 The tyrant of the Gods to all alike 
 
 Unjust and violent, that he, a God, 
 
 For very lust of this fair mortal, drive 
 
 Her forth poor wanderer? Harsh is he, poor maid, 775 
 
 Who woos thy bed ; for all thou yet dost know 
 
 Is scarce a prelude to thy coming woe. 
 
 lo. 
 
 Alas ! ay me ! alas, and wellaway ! 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Again thou groanest loud. What then wilt say 
 Learning the ills that yet must fall on thee ? 780 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 49 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Didst say that more of grief to her can be ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Of fateful grief a wild and wintry sea. 
 
 lo. 
 
 Why longer live ? Why not in eager haste 
 Plunge headlong from, this harsh and horrid rock, 
 That, dashed to atoms on the plain below, 785 
 
 My woes may leave me ? Better dead to lie, 
 Than all my days to live, and wish to die. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 How couldst thou bear my sufferings to endure, 
 For whom to die is not, nor e er shall be, 
 Permitted ? Death would be release from pain. 790 
 
 But no surcease is destined to my thrall, 
 Till from his tyrannous throne this Zeus shall fall. 
 
 lo. 
 Shall Zeus then fall ? Can this predestined be ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Thou wouldst rejoice, I trow, such doom to see. 
 
 lo. 
 How not rejoice, when he afflicts me so ? 795 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 That this shall be, sufficeth thee to know. 
 
 lo. 
 Who from his grasp the sceptre shall distrain ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 He from himself, by counsels light and vain. 
 
50 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 lo. 
 How? how? if nought forbid thee to relate. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Wedding a bride, through whom must bow his state. 800 
 
 lo. 
 Divine or mortal ? speak, if speak thou may. 
 
 PKOMETHEUS. 
 Why ask ? For this I may not, will not say. 
 
 lo. 
 Is t by his wife that he shall lose his throne ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Bearing a son, whose might the sire must own. 
 
 lo. 
 Hath he no way by which this doom to shun ? 805 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Until my chains be broken, surely none. 
 
 lo. 
 Despite of Zeus, who shall deliver thee ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 One of thy race is destined to be he. 
 
 lo. 
 How sayest ? Shall child of mine thy rescuer be ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 When ten descents are joined to others three. sio 
 
 lo. 
 Hard, hard, I hold this prophecy to trace ! 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Thou seek st no more what woe thou next shalt face. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 51 
 
 lo. 
 The boon thou gavest set not now aside. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 This will I tell, or that. Do thou decide. 
 
 To. 
 Name this, and that ; then leave the choice to me. 815 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 I name them. Know thy sorrows yet to be, 
 Or who shall break my bonds and set me free? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To her yield that; to me, I pray thee, grant 
 This boon. Dishonor not my prayer ; but tell 
 To this poor maid her weary wanderings term ; 820 
 To me, thy rescuer. This I pine to hear. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Since ye entreat me, I will not deny 
 To explain the whole ye seek for. And to thee, 
 Sad lo, first, thy wanderings dread and drear 
 I will enumerate, which inscribe thou 825 
 
 Deep in the mindful tablets of thy soul. 
 The wild gulf passed, which bounds with foamy roar 
 This continent, pursue thy path of woe 
 Toward the bright-burning sunrise, till thou reach 
 Desert Kisthene s Gorgon-haunted plain, 830 
 
 Where dwell the Phorkides, in lonely eld, 
 Three swan-white maidens, with one eye for all, 
 One tooth, whom never doth the sun s glad beam 
 Behold, nor gentler moon s nocturnal ray. 
 
52 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 Nigh these, I warn thee, shun with fearful care 835 
 
 Their sisters, mortal-haters, serpent-haired, 
 
 The strong- winged Gorgons three, whom never yet 
 
 Hath man beheld, nor ever shall and live ! 
 
 Hear now another perilous sight and wild, 839 
 
 Which thou must brave, the unbarking dogs of Zeus, 
 
 The crook-beaked Gryphons, and that one-eyed host, 
 
 Horse-trampling, Arimaspian, who beside 
 
 The fount that flows with gold, hight Pluton s stream, 
 
 Camp terrible. Approach not these ; but on ! 
 
 Till, at earth s confine, the swart tribe shalt find 845 
 
 Who dwell about the sources of the sun, 
 
 Whence bursts the Aithiop River ; by whose bank 
 
 Wind careful, till at length thou shalt arrive 
 
 Where from the Bybline mountains headlong down 
 
 Pours Nile his sweetest and most sacred flood, 850 
 
 Stupendous cataract. He shall guide thee true 
 
 To that triangular Nile-girded ground, 
 
 Where it is destined that thy race, and thou, 
 
 lo, a distant colony shall found. 
 
 Should aught of this or dark or strange appear, 855 
 
 Ask it again, and o er, and learn it clear ; 
 
 Leisure have I, beyond my wishes here. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 If aught there be untold, and yet to tell, 
 Of that soul-wasting journey, give it tongue 
 Forthwith. If thou hast said the whole right out, 860 
 Give me the boon I crave, thou know st it well. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 53 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 The term of all her wanderings she hath heard 
 Already. But, that she may learn how true 
 That she hath learned, my teaching to approve, 
 Her wanderings hitherward, foregone and past, 865 
 
 I now declare ; not wasting aught of breath, 
 But forthright speeding to her journey s end. 
 For when thou earnest to the Molossian plains, 
 And lofty-ridged Dodone, where the shrines 
 Oracular are of great Thesprotian Zeus, 870 
 
 And, miracle most strange, the prophet oaks 
 By which, no more in dark enigmas, thou 
 Wert clearly hailed the glorious wife of Zeus, 
 In the to be hereafter. Glads thee this? 
 Thence by the sea-side way thou spedst amain, 875 
 
 Fly-haunted, to old Rheia s vasty gulf, 
 And back wert goaded in wild, refluent course. 
 But, for all time to come, that deep sea-bay 
 Shall bear thy name, Ionian, of thy track 
 An everlasting memory to men. 830 
 
 Be this to thee a token of my soul, 
 Which pierces onward, and sees far aloof 
 Beyond the visible. The rest I tell 
 In common to you both, where late I ceased 
 Beginning. At Nile s mouth and utmost shore ^5 
 
 A town there is, Kanopos, last of earth. 
 There then shall Zeus at length thy spirit restore, 
 Touching thee only with caressing hand 
 
54 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 All-fearless. But thereafter of Zeus touch 
 
 Black Epaphos shalt bear, who all the plain 890 
 
 Shall reap, by Nile s broad deluge fertile made. 
 
 From him the fifth descent, of fifty maids, 
 
 Unwilling shall return to Argos back, 
 
 Flying the kindred wedlock fifty-fold 
 
 Of cousins. They, with souls demented quite, 895 
 
 Falcons not far by trembling doves outflown, 
 
 Shall come in chase of bridals, which shall mar 
 
 The chasers, fate denying them the brides. 
 
 These shall receive Pelasgia, when the grooms 
 
 Have perished through the rage, waking by night, 900 
 
 Of those fair females ; for each wife her spouse, 
 
 Bathing the two-edged sword in blood, shall slay. 
 
 Such may the wedlock of my enemies be. 
 
 One only of those girls soft love shall sway 
 
 To spare her bed-mate ; and her spirit shall fail, 905 
 
 That rather she shall choose, of counsels twain, 
 
 A coward than a homicide to be. 
 
 And she in Argos shall bring forth a race 
 
 Right royal. Thence t were long to tell the whole 
 
 All orderly; but of that seed shall be born 910 
 
 One brave, renowned with the bow, these bonds 
 
 Who shall break loose. Thus did my mother read 
 
 The book of fate, Titanian Themis old. 
 
 But how, and where, it much my speech would strain 
 
 To teach ye, and ye learning nought would gain. 915 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 55 
 
 lo. 
 
 pity ! pity ! alas ! 
 
 The spasms are upon me, the sore-smiting lash 
 Of that madness divine is inflaming my soul ! 
 My heart in my bosom beats blindly for dread, 
 And my eyes stare around me, unearthly and red ! 920 
 Like a ship from my moorings, out o er the wide seas, 
 To the mad gusts of frenzy, I stagger and roll ; 
 And my words leap to life, all unseemly and rash, 
 From the tempest that bursts on my soul. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe. 
 
 Wise truly, truly wise was he, 925 
 
 Who first perceived within his secret heart, 
 And with his tongue declared in language free, 
 How it is aye the wisest part 
 For like with like to wed ; 
 
 And that the mean should never woo the bed 930 
 
 Of those who riot in great stores of gold, 
 Or boast themselves of lofty lineage old. 
 Antistrophe. 
 
 Me never, never may ye see, 
 
 Fates, deluded by a thought so high, 
 
 Of Zeus immortal couch the bride to be, 935 
 
 Nor from the mansions of the sky 
 
 A bridegroom God to gain ; 
 
 Me, who behold lorn lo s frantic pain, 
 
 From land to land pursued by Here s hate, 
 
56 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 And pining still unwed in virgin state. 940 
 
 Epode. 
 
 To me the humblest equal lot 
 
 Of wedded life were dreaded not, 
 
 So that the love of no immortal God 
 
 Might look upon me with that awful eve 
 
 From which it were vain to fly, 945 
 
 Gainst which all combat is but labor lost, 
 
 All wisdom, counsel to the wild winds tost. 
 
 What I should do I may not, cannot dream, 
 
 Nor have one silly scheme 
 
 By which to escape the monarch s fateful nod. 950 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Yet, yet, though now so obstinately great, 
 
 Shall Zeus be humble ; such a plan he frames 
 
 Of wedlock, which him from his sovereign height 
 
 And tyrannous throne shall cast, undone, that so 
 
 His father s awful curse fulfilled may be, 955 
 
 Kronos , who swore it falling from his seat 
 
 Original. No God, save I alone, 
 
 This doom s reversal hath to show; but I 
 
 Doom and reversal see. Let him, I say, 
 
 Let him sit there, in his high- vaunting claps 960 
 
 Secure, and brandishing his bolts of flame ; 
 
 For nought shall these avail him, not to fall 
 
 Most wretchedly a downfall infamous. 
 
 So strong an athlete doth he now array 
 
 Himself against himself, dread prodigy 965 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 57 
 
 Invincible, who than the lightning s shaft 
 
 A fiercer flame, and than the thunder s roar 
 
 A more pervading clangor, shall find out, 
 
 And dissipate the ocean trident s power, 
 
 That shakes the world, Poseidon s surgy spear. 970 
 
 Then, crushed and writhing, he shall learn too late 
 
 What is a slave s, and what a tyrant s state! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 The doom thou speak st is prompted by thy hate. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 I speak my wishes, but I speak his fate. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 For one who shall enslave great Zeus dost look? 975 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Woes sterner far than slavery must he brook. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Fearest not to speak such hostile words and high? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 What should I fear, whose fate is not to die ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Yet heavier anguish on thy head may fall 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Fall it ! I care not, but expect it all ! 980 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Wisest are they to vengeful power who bow. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Cringe, flatter, .worship each new ruler, thou ! 
 To me your Zeus than veriest nought is less ! 
 
58 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 So let him do, yea ! reign, while reign he may, 
 
 As listeth him ! Not long the Gods, I trow, 985 
 
 Shall he enslave. But lo ! Zeus foot-boy fleet ! 
 
 New minion of new master ! Now give ear ; 
 
 It is mighty news that makes this herald here. 
 
 Enter, to the above, HERMES, with Petasus, Ttdaria, and Caduceus, as just 
 alighted on the earth. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 Thee, the all-wise, of bitterest, railing tongue, 
 The traitor of the Gods who honor, gave 990 
 
 To earthlings ! thee, the thief of fire, I name ! 
 The Sire commands thee speak these nuptials out, 
 Which now thou mutterest, and by whom shall fall 
 His domination. Speak, and clearly too, 
 Not in enigmas, nor with double sense 995 
 
 Deceitful to the ear ; or thou shalt find 
 That Zeus unto his foes is nothing kind. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Big-mouthed, I trow, and full of windy pomp, 
 Is all thy speech, as suits a tyrant s slave. 
 New lords, ye reign but newly, and yet deem 1000 
 
 Your thrones impregnable. And have not I 
 Beheld two monarchs thence in ruin base 
 Cast down, and shall I not a third behold, 
 Most briefly, as most basely ? Seem I not 
 Before your new-made Gods to shake and quail? 1005 
 That shame at least I know not of. But thou, 
 Hence ! by the road which brought thee get thee back ! 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 59 
 
 Nought shalt thou learn of that which he doth lack. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 By words misproud as these, and madly bold, 
 Didst win the station which thou now dost hold. 1010 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Know this; I would not change my honest fate 
 For thy dishonorable, slavish state. 
 Better, I trow, the rude rock s slave to be, 
 Than cringe to Father Zeus with crouching knee. 
 Insult I pay with insult, mock with mock ! 1015 
 
 HERMES. 
 Rather, methinks, thou revellest on thy rock. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Revel I ? Soon my foes, then, may I see 
 So revelling ; and with those I number thee. 
 
 HERMES. 
 Me for thy self-earned woes dost thou detest ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 All Gods I hate, and thee among the rest, 1020 
 Who kindest deeds have paid with bitterest wrong. 
 
 HERMES. 
 Still is thy madness impotently strong. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 If foes to hate be mad, mad let me be ! 
 
 HERMES. 
 Proud now, what wert thou powerful and free ? 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Alas ! 1025 
 
60 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 HERMES. 
 That word Zeus knows not to exclaim. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Time teaches all. Soon shall he cry the same. 
 
 HERMES. 
 No prudence hast thou learned in durance vile. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 How should I, speaking with a slave the while ? 
 
 HERMES. 
 It seems what he requires thou wilt not say. 1030 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Good faith! I ought his favors to repay. 
 
 HERMES. 
 Were I a child, thou coulclst not scorn me more. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 And art thou not a child, or less than child, 
 Hoping to learn from me ? Look here ! look here ! 
 There is no form of anguish, nor device, 1035 
 
 Disgrace, nor shame, by which your Zeus can force 
 My utterance of these things, till my chains 
 Be loosed. Then let him launch his glowing flame, 
 With white-winged snow and subterraneous din 
 Of thunder let him shake the universe. 1040 
 
 Me shall he nothing move the name to own 
 Of who shall hurl him from his tyrannous throne ! 
 
 HERMES. 
 See if by this thy woes wax not the more. 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 61 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 Seen it I have, and thought of it of yore. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 fool! endure, endure for once, I say, 1045 
 
 To bend your haughty heart and grace to pray. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 In vain you stun me, like the ceaseless surge 
 The rocks persuading. Hope not e er that I, 
 In dread of Zeus, a woman s soul will wear, 
 Or with effeminate lifting up of hands 1050 
 
 Him, whom I hate so bitterly, implore 
 To loose me from my chains. Away ! no more ! 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 Much have I said in vain, and much, it seems, 
 Shall say ; for nought art melted or subdued 
 By these mine admonitions; but dost fight 1055 
 
 As a colt newly yoked, against the bit 
 Champing and foaming, till, worn out at length, 
 Panting he falls and faint. For stubborn will 
 To evil counsel joined is nothing worth, 
 Or worse than nothing. Look, then, if by words io60 
 Canst not be touched, look what a storm of fate 
 Shall fall on thee. First this rude glen, rock-bound, 
 With thunder-dint, and levin-flame, the Sire 
 Shall dash to atoms; and thy body hide, 
 Clasped by earth s stony arm, in cold embrace. 1065 
 There having suffered long, back to the day 
 Shalt suddenly return. Zeus winged hound, 
 
62 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 The bloody eagle, with, his violent beak 
 
 Thy quivering flesh shall tear, a horrible gash, 
 
 Unbidden banqueter ; who day by day 1070 
 
 Thy liver shall devour and drink thy gore. 
 
 Of this dread anguish trust not thou to find 
 
 Change or release, till one, a God, shall choose 
 
 Thy substitute in agony to be, 
 
 And Hades rayless gloom, and black abysms 1075 
 
 Of Tartaros, to visit. Therefore think ! 
 
 These be no boastful threats, but truths too true. 
 
 The immortal tongue of Zeus knows not to lie, 
 
 But all its words are sooth. Thou then take heed, 
 
 Look for thyself, and muse, nor fondly hope 1030 
 
 That pride self-willed with counsel sage may cope. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To me it seems that Hermes speaks to the point 
 And wisely, who commands thee cast aside 
 This obstinate mood, and better counsels use. 
 Shame is it for the wise the worse to choose ! 1085 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 Well, well did I know it, before he had told 
 His message of dread. But to suffer, I trow, 
 The bitterest wrongs at the hand of a foe 
 Is no shame to a foeman. Then let it be cast, 
 The double-edged ringlet of sulphurous flame, 1090 
 Let ether be shattered by thunder, and rent 
 By fury of merciless whirlwinds, let earth 
 From its deepest foundations be whirled by the blast, 
 
PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 63 
 
 And the foam of the ocean, assailing the sky, 
 Be white in the paths of the planets on high. 1095 
 
 And this body of mine, let him hurl it amain 
 To the blackest abysses of Tartaros old, 
 All helplessly bound in necessity s chain, 
 Yet he cannot compel me to die. 
 
 HERMES. 
 
 Ye may hear how he rages with frantical words 1100 
 And with counsels insane ! For, if reason be here, 
 How is frenzy distinguished, by eye, or by ear ? 
 And if in his pangs he find pleasure or pride, 
 Why ceases his fury the Gods to deride ? 
 But ye, who, so gently consoling his woe, 1105 
 
 Throng around him, begone, while you safely may go ! 
 Lest the thunders of heaven your reason may dash 
 From its throne by its horrible crash ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Seek other advice, if advice must be borne, 
 By which thou mayest win me ! For this thou hast spokea 
 Is too base for endurance. How darest thou, I say, mi 
 Name such vileness to me, who have learned long ago 
 To esteem the betrayer all villains below ? 
 No ! with him I will suffer whate er may befall ; 
 For there is not a crime which my spirit doth scorn 1115 
 Like treason, the falsest and foulest of all. 
 
 HERMES. 
 Remember, remember the words ye have heard, 
 
64 PROMETHEUS FETTERED. 
 
 And the choice ye have made, and, when dogged to 
 
 your doom, 
 
 Neither fortune accuse, nor declare that this woe 
 Unthreatened by Zeus, or unlocked for, has come. 1120 
 For behold! ye shall find yourselves helplessly cast, 
 By a fate neither secret nor sudden, I trow, 
 In the dark net of destiny, fettered and fast, 
 From which never mortal has passed. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 It is done ! For in deed, and no longer in word, 1125 
 The firm earth is shaken. 
 Far crashes the roar of the bellowing thunder, 
 And forth flash the circlets of sulphurous fire, 
 And the eddying dust-clouds whirl higher and higher, 
 And the storm-winds leap out in their dreadful array, 1130 
 Raving hoarse through the sky, and ocean and ether 
 Insanely together are hurled. 
 So surely, so fearlessly, launched from above 
 Comes the havoc of Zeus. Glory, Love, 
 Of my mother prophetic, liberal air, 1135 
 
 That revolvest the light and the life of the world, 
 Behold how unjustly I bear! 
 
THE 
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 OF 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 6 * 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE Agamemnon of ^Eschylus, in many respects the grand 
 est and most sublime of all the Hellenic tragedies, and incom 
 parably that which contains the most dramatical effect, the 
 most intelligible human agency, and the most distinctive in 
 dividual character, is the first of the Atreidan, or, as it is 
 termed, Oresteian trilogy ; all the three tragedies of which 
 are extant, affording to the modern reader the only exam 
 ple of a complete trilogy, and therefore exhibiting in their 
 most perfect form the views of the Attic audience as regard 
 ing the action, connection, and resolution of a complete tragic 
 plot. 
 
 Before proceeding, however, to examine into the plot and 
 progress of the Agamemnon, it will be necessary to recur for a 
 while to the previous history of the crimes and fates of the 
 Atreid dynasty ; as these are not only constantly referred to, 
 but are the direct origin and cause of the consequences which 
 form the subject of the present drama. 
 
 Than this trilogy, and, indeed, than this drama in particular, 
 there exists no more complete exposition of the old Hellenic 
 creed of unalterable, irresistible, and annihilating destiny ; of 
 guilt reproducing guilt, guilt involuntary in the actor, because 
 imposed upon him by an unavoidable fate, and yet avenged 
 upon his head as if it had been the result of a criminal volition, 
 
68 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 rather than of a hideous necessity. With this terrible doctrine 
 another of similar nature, and closely combined with the 
 former, is dimly shadowed out ; namely, the almost certain 
 occurrence of some overwhelming reverse, as the absolute 
 consequence of any great preceding achievement or success, 
 the Gods being supposed to envy man the possession of what 
 should seem in any degree to resemble unmingled felicity or 
 uninterrupted good fortune. 
 
 The origin of the Atreid house, according to the legend 
 evidently adopted by JEschylus, was Zeus himself, to whom, 
 of an amour with the nymph Pluto, was born Tantalos, the 
 father of Pelops, who, by his wife Hippodamia, had two sons, 
 Atreus and Thyestes. Atreus, by what marriage it is not 
 stated, had one son, Pleisthenes, whom he survived ; and whose 
 widow, Ae rope, he married, and by her had Agamemnon and 
 Menelaos, named of him the Atreidre. 
 
 Ae rope was subsequently seduced by Thyestes ; in revenge 
 of which guilt Atreus murdered the adulterous progeny of his 
 wife and brother, and served them up as food to the latter, at a 
 solemn banquet. 
 
 This is the first ancestral crime to which ^Eschylus alludes 
 in the drama ; and it he directly names as the origin of the re 
 productive crimes and sufferings of the house. Sin, however, 
 and retribution, and revenge appear to have clung to the race, 
 from the time of Tantalos, their first progenitor. Thyestes left 
 one son, Aigisthos, destined to be thereafter his avenger. 
 
 In the mean time, Agamemnon and Menelaos had married 
 Klytaimnestra and Helene, the daughters by repute of Tynda- 
 ros and Leda, but the latter actually of Zeus and Leda. Her 
 elopement with Paris led to the expedition against Troy, at the 
 outset of which Agamemnon was compelled by the Fates, as 
 interpreted by Kalchas and enforced by Artemis, to sacrifice 
 his daughter Iphigenia at the altar of the enraged goddess, in 
 order to obtain a favorable wind for the storm-bound fleet, and 
 secure the host s departure against Troy. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 69 
 
 After their sailing, during the absence of her husband at the 
 ten years siege, Klytaimnestra is seduced by Aigisthos ; and 
 having sent away her son by Agamemnon, Orestes, to the care 
 of Strophios in Phokis, has determined on the murder of her 
 lord on his return from Ilion, in vengeance, as she alleges, for 
 the sacrifice of her daughter, but in reality for the concealment 
 and indulgence of her criminal amour with Aigisthos. 
 
 And here one would imagine there was enough of guilt and 
 terror, of crime and retribution, to fill out the plot of twenty 
 tragedies, until the most insatiate of audiences should have 
 supped full of horrors. Not so the ancients ; and not so the 
 great tragedian, the all-powerful master, whose favorite key 
 whereon to strike was terror, and whose especial topic was the 
 overwhelming and insatiate career of unalterable, ever-avenging 
 Destiny. 
 
 And at this point in the history of the doomed Atreid dynas 
 ty the action of the trilogy commences. After a brief lull, 
 during which the storms of fate have ceased to devastate the 
 hapless race, nay, have yielded to a short and illusive gleam of 
 fortunate sunshine, the curse breaks out again, harbingered by 
 hideous prophecies and ominous fears, and running its course 
 through treason, murder, matricide, and the presence of the 
 avenging Furies, the immortal brood of Hades, in the supernal 
 sunlight, to the completion of the fates of the house, which is 
 brought to pass by the intervention of Apollo and Athene, who 
 acquit Orestes of his mother s blood before the high court, then 
 constituted, of the Areiopagos, upon Mars Hill in Athens. 
 
 The time has advanced, previously to the opening of the 
 drama, even to the taking of Ilion ; which has fallen on the 
 very evening during the night of which the action of the 
 tragedy commences. 
 
 The scene is laid at Argos, where, contrary to the historic 
 truth and the Homeric legend, from which jEschylus material 
 ly diverges, and not at Mycense, our poet has placed the palace 
 of the Atreidse, and the stage of their sins and sorrows. 
 
70 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The time is after midnight, not far from daybreak. The 
 scene, a public place at Argos, before the palace of the 
 Atreida?, on the turret-roof of which a single sentinel is watch 
 ing when the drama opens. 
 
 No one of the unities, according to the prevalent notions 
 concerning the Greek unities, is preserved. The scene is 
 changed once ; the lapse of days, or weeks, must be imagined 
 during the progress of events upon the stage ; and the action, 
 though not absolutely interrupted, cannot be said to be con 
 tinuous. 
 
 At the opening of the drama, the scene of which, as we 
 have said, is not laid at Mycenae, the real capital of Agamem 
 non s dominions, but at Argos, which was subsequently the cap 
 ital of Argolis, the stage is entirely vacant, the time being the 
 dead of night, and all the citizens being supposed to be asleep. 
 On a watch-tower, above the palace of the Atreidoe, however, a 
 watcher is on duty ; who prologizes, giving a description of his 
 weariness and the toil of his office, exercised during many years, 
 which he has spent in waiting for the " symbol of the torch " ; 
 that is, the succession of beacon-lights arranged by Klytaimnes- 
 tra to announce to her the fall of Troy. 
 
 The real object of this arrangement is to prevent the dis 
 covery of her adulterous intercourse with Aigisthos, and the 
 frustration of her further projects, by the sudden return of her 
 husband ; the pretext, eagerness for his return. 
 
 During the delivery of the prologue, the light of the torch 
 suddenly appears ; upon which the watcher arouses the city 
 by his joyous outcries. Yet amid all his glee and exultation 
 at the idea of again meeting his king, he hints darkly at the 
 existence of some present evil, and the possibility of future 
 calamities and crimes. 
 
 Thereupon the Chorus, composed of aged men forming the 
 /3ovAi?, or chief council of the state during the monarch s ab 
 sence, enter singing, first a magnificent anapaestic mode, telling 
 of the departure of the Atreidoe ten years ago for Ilion, whom 
 
INTRODUCTION. 71 
 
 it likens to vultures frantic with despair and rage at the loss of 
 their young stolen from the nest, accounting for their own stay 
 at Argos when the host had sailed, and finally inquiring of 
 Klytaimnestra, who enters during the song with her attendants, 
 and kindles sacrificial fires on the altars, the cause of her pro 
 ceedings. Then, without awaiting her reply, they burst into a 
 splendid choral strain, consisting of a strophe, an antistrophe, 
 and an epode, describing and explaining the omens which ap 
 peared to the brother-kings at the moment of their departure, 
 deducing from them mingled prophecies of good and evil, and 
 deprecating the vengeance of the Gods friendly to Troy, and 
 the rage of the persecuting demon of the house of Atreus. 
 Then follow four strophes, and as many antistrophes, relating 
 the detention of the ships at Aulis, the prophecy of Kalchas, 
 the mood of the brother-kings, and finally the sacrifice of 
 Iphigenia, in language and rhythm which, for power, sublimity, 
 beauty, and pathos all combined, have never, in my opinion, 
 been excelled in the whole range of poetry ancient or modern. 
 I consider this unquestionably the masterpiece of all that has 
 descended to us of the Greek tragedians ; I know nothing com 
 parable to it in sweetness, tenderness, and grace, among all the 
 classic marvels ; and I regard it, not only as a complete refu 
 tation of the idea, commonly entertained, that ^Eschylus was a 
 poet of terror only, averse to the pathetic mood, and incapable 
 of softness, delicacy, or tenderness, but as a proof that he 
 possessed all these qualities, as he unquestionably did grand 
 eur, sublimity, and the power of exciting awe, in a far higher 
 degree than either of his immortal rivals. I say it advisedly, 
 that there is nothing in all that we know, or have a right to 
 imagine, of the sweetest fancies of " sad Electra s poet," 
 which approaches the simple and unaffected tenderness and 
 melancholy of this enchanting composition. Faint as must be, 
 at the best, the idea of the original gained from a translation, 
 however true, I cannot but hope that some of the transcendent 
 splendors of this unequalled chorus may be traced faintly 
 
72 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 shining through the medium of a language far less copious, 
 less plastic, and, above all, less sonorous, than the grand old 
 Hellenic tongue, in the version which I have the honor of sub 
 mitting. 
 
 This chant ended, the old men proceed to question Klytaim- 
 nestra as to the cause of her apparently inexplicable elation, 
 and her means of obtaining information ; to which she re 
 sponds, after a short alternate dialogue, by a noble speech, de 
 scribing the transmission of the glad tidings by a succession 
 of beacon-lights from point to point, commencing on the 
 heights of Ida, and terminating on the crag of Arachne, " the 
 station next our town." 
 
 This fine passage has suggested, probably, the idea of the 
 effect of night-beacons to several modern poets of the highest 
 order, and has thus been the origin of some of the finest things 
 in modem composition, as regards spirit, rapidity, and brilliant 
 imagery, I refer more particularly to the scenery of the 
 second canto of " The Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Scott, and 
 to Macaulay s magnificent fragment, " The Spanish Armada," 
 yet it is not to be disputed, that, in diversity of expression, 
 splendor of language, and glow of illustration, the Greek takes 
 the lead of its brilliant successors, for excellence no less than 
 for originality. 
 
 The translation of this passage by Potter is singularly de 
 fective, as regards the spirit and harmony of the original, but 
 what is more remarkable, for Potter was esteemed a correct 
 scholar in his day, it is disgraced by an error of quantity of 
 the worst kind, and by several misconstructions, which would not 
 be pardoned in a sixth-form Etonian of the present day. Sir 
 Edward Bulwer Lytton, in his " Athens and the Athenians," 
 has given a very rapid and spirited paraphrase of this celebrat 
 ed passage, but he has rendered the iambics of the original into 
 a lyrical measure, which is certainly not consonant with the 
 dignity of the conception, any more than it would be to translate 
 one of Hamlet s or Macbeth s soliloquies into an Italian can- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 73 
 
 zone, or a French chanson a boire. Like into like appears to 
 me to be an inevitable law of translation, and one which can 
 never be violated without violating both the truth and the tone 
 of the original. 
 
 On hearing this, the Chorus express their gratitude to the 
 Gods, but desire to learn something further of the matter ; when 
 Klytaimnestra, drawing somewhat on her imagination, describes 
 the present state of the sacked city, and of the triumphant host, 
 as she supposes it to be ; and then, expressing some fear lest 
 the Gods, in envy of so great mortal prosperity, should inflict 
 some calamity on the house of Atreus, concludes by a sort of 
 prayer for a continuance of their favor. 
 
 Consequently upon this, the old men sing another very fine 
 chorus, which, like the last, is singularly combined of majesty, 
 melancholy, and pathos, deprecatory of the wrath of the Gods, 
 descriptive of the flight of Helene and the misery of the aban 
 doned Menelaos, and concluding by a dirge-like lamentation 
 over the brave who have fallen around the hostile walls of 
 II ion. 
 
 Klytaimnestra now announces exultingly the confirmation of 
 her tidings, for she sees approaching from the sea-shore, over 
 shadowed with laurels, a herald, whose good report the beacons 
 have anticipated. Talthybios then enters, and, having bid hail 
 his mother earth and saluted the Gods of his country, trium 
 phantly relates the fall of Troy, and announces the approach of 
 Agamemnon. 
 
 An alternate conversation follows between the Chorus and 
 the herald, in which the former again allude to some secret 
 cause of dread, which they have been forced to entertain during 
 the absence of the king. The herald then proceeds to relate at 
 large the sufferings of the Achaian host before Troy, and the 
 taking of the city ; to which Klytaimnestra makes answer in a 
 set speech, bidding him return with her greetings to her lord, 
 and hasten him homeward, after which she retires into the 
 palace, to make preparation for his triumphant entry into 
 
74 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Argos. She gone, the Chorus question TaUhybios further 
 concerning the host, when he relates somewhat reluctantly 
 how a fearful storm overtook, dispersed, and shattered the 
 victorious fleet, and how Menelaos was lost, during the tempest, 
 from the navy. He then leaves the stage. The Chorus sing 
 another ode, descriptive of the entrance of Helene into Troy, 
 and of the ruin which she brought upon it, and all its citizens, 
 and ending by a mysterious anticipation of some dreadful ap 
 proaching calamity, and a deprecation of retributive justice on 
 the house of the Atreidee. During the chorus, Agamemnon 
 enters in his triumphal car, with Kassandra by his side, and the 
 conquering army with their ensigns and trophies following. 
 The Chorus greet him in an anapaestic mode, and he replies to 
 them in a temperate, manly, and noble speech, returning thanks 
 to the Gods for his safe return, touching modestly on his great 
 victory, giving much credit to the Gods for the conquest, and 
 due praise to his comrades, especially to Odysseus, and promis 
 ing good government to his people. 
 
 Thereupon, Klytaimnestra, who has entered with her maid 
 ens to meet him, utters a long, elaborate, hypocritical speech, 
 expressive of her sufferings during his absence and her joy at 
 his return, a speech which jEschylus has, with consummate 
 skill, intentionally made artificial, ornate, and oratorical, in 
 order to show that it is not spontaneous, or from the heart. 
 Agamemnon appears partially to see this, and replies somewhat 
 bluntly ; after which a singular discussion follows between the 
 royal pair, she insisting that he shall enter the palace walking 
 upon purple and embroidered tapestries, he declining it, lest 
 he should thereby provoke the wrath of the Gods. She at 
 length prevails, however ; and, first causing his sandals to be 
 unloosed, he enters the palace treading on the rich foot-cloths 
 which her maidens have spread in his way, having commended 
 Kassandra to her care. 
 
 It is not easy to account for the extreme urgency of Klytaim 
 nestra on this seemingly unimportant point ; yet it appears to 
 
INTRODUCTION. 75 
 
 arise from deeper feeling than a mere hypocritical affectation of 
 excessive joy and reverence. Perhaps it is to be understood, 
 that she wishes to render him guilty of an act of arrogant pre 
 sumption in the sight of the Gods before murdering him, so as 
 either to lighten the burden of her own iniquity, or to increase 
 his sufferings by sending him down to Hades an object of in 
 dignation, rather than a subject of compassion, to the Gods. 
 
 After his departure, the Chorus burst into another strain of 
 the darkest and most dismal anticipation, announcing a blind 
 and unaccountable horror which overhangs them, and from 
 which they forebode the coming of some hideous calamity. 
 
 Klytaimnestra, after vainly calling upon Kassandra, and 
 urging her to enter the palace with her, she sitting the while 
 in her chariot perfectly unmoved and impassive, rushes indig 
 nant and furious into the palace, in pursuit of Agamemnon. 
 
 As soon as she is gone, a scene of terrible sublimity and 
 power ensues between Kassandra and the Chorus. Regaining 
 her tongue, she at once breaks out into lamentations, and ob 
 secrations on Apollo, her destroyer, for bringing her to this 
 hideous abode of murder, adultery, incest, and omnigenous hor 
 ror. The spirits of all the murdered Atreida3 of past ages 
 seem to float around her ; the slaughtered children of Thyestes 
 sit upon the battlements, extending their small hands filled with 
 their own roasted flesh to their shuddering father; the floor 
 reeks with slaughter, and the roof distils human gore, before 
 her retrospective and prophetic vision. 
 
 Then, while the Chorus tremble and doubt and indistinctly 
 trace her meanings, she describes the slaughterous treason- 
 bath, the net of Hades, meaning the sleeveless robe, the 
 murderous wife, and the betrayed husband, typified by the 
 cow slaying the black-horned bull ; bewails her own fate as 
 that of the shrill-voiced nightingale, whose fate she envies ; 
 and ultimately, descending from her wild and dithyrambic 
 modes, plainly and distinctly predicts her own death and that 
 of Agamemnon by the hand of Klytaimnestra, Still, in ac- 
 
76 AGA3IEMNON. 
 
 corclance with the penalty denounced against Kassandra by 
 Apollo, the Chorus, though distinctly forewarned, cannot com 
 prehend her ; and, after a further prophecy of the retribution 
 which shall overtake Klytaimnestra by the hands of Orestes, 
 she takes leave of life, and calmly enters the palace, knowing 
 that she goes to her death, and apostrophizing the gates as 
 those of Hades. 
 
 So soon as she is gone, while the Chorus are chanting their 
 forebodings, the cries of Agamemnon, and his death-groans, 
 are heard from within; and, as the Chorus are deliberating as 
 to what they shall do, and unable to come to any conclusion, 
 the scene changes, and displays Klytaimnestra standing, with 
 the bloody axe in her hand, beside the silver bath, with Aga 
 memnon and Klytaimnestra, the former involved in the sleeve 
 less robe, lying dead at her feet. 
 
 In a tone of insolent and audacious wickedness, which is in 
 itself sublime, she now addresses the Chorus, justifying her 
 murder of her husband, as a deed of retribution for the sac 
 rifice of Iphigenia, laying the blame on Destiny and the Ate 
 which pursues the race, and defying the resentment of the 
 citizens. 
 
 While she and the Chorus are disputing, Aigisthos enters, 
 and attempts to justify the whole proceeding by reference back 
 even to the time and the catastrophe of his father, Thyestes ; 
 attributing his own conduct to meritorious revenge on the de 
 scendant of Atreus for the atrocious crime of his grandfather, 
 and claiming the throne as the eldest surviving male heir 
 of the Pelopid dynasty. The Chorus deny his pretensions, 
 threaten to resort to arms, and a conflict seems inevitable ; 
 when Klytaimnestra, by her imperturbable boldness and dig 
 nity, calm in the midst of guilt and horror, overawes all oppo 
 sition to her will, silences the Chorus, and, insisting on her 
 right and might to govern, the play closes, leaving destiny 
 accomplished, and wickedness, for the moment, triumphant ; 
 while innocence and majesty, in Kassandra and the king, lie 
 overpowered and undone. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 77 
 
 Destiny, then, it will at once be seen, inevitable retribution 
 on posterity of ancestral crime, the certain succession of ca 
 lamity to excessive prosperity, suffering not to be avoided by 
 virtue, and deeds compelled by Fate imputed as crimes to the 
 actor, though himself a mere helpless agent of an unavoidable 
 and overruling necessity, are the fearful and mysterious influ 
 ences which direct the course of this most tragical drama. 
 
 And rare is the skill by which the ideas of these are kept 
 ever uppermost and foremost in the reader s mind from the 
 very beginning of the play; never lost sight of even amid the 
 joy and excitement of the triumph in the middle of its action, 
 and rising preeminent, so as to overshadow all other thoughts, 
 as the catastrophe draws nigh, and is at last accomplished, pre 
 cisely as at first dimly hinted, then mysteriously foreshown, 
 and at last distinctly prophesied, during the course of a train 
 of events tending directly to this issue. It is to this end that 
 the poet dwells so long and so impressively on the sacrifice 
 of Iphigenia, in the first strain of the Chorus, because that 
 sacrifice is the key to her father s fate. It is to this end that 
 the Chorus harp so continually on the dark fates of the house 
 of Alreus, and so fearfully deprecate the envy of the Gods, 
 lest it should be provoked to set off such splendid prosperity by 
 some signal reverse. 
 
 Yet, withal, the interest of the action is in no wise impaired, 
 nor the progress of the plot anticipated ; and were we not 
 aware beforehand of the legendary termination of the myth, 
 we should arrive at its catastrophe with emotions of wonder, 
 surprise, and thrilling fear, equal to those which we experience 
 as we see, for the first time, the fate of the over-gentle and re 
 fined Hamlet, or the fall of the arch-criminal Macbeth. 
 
 In this grand tragedy, of which the lyrical portions are un 
 questionably the finest specimens of the tragic chorus extant, 
 there is far more, it must be observed, of human character, 
 human passion, and particular personal identity, than in any 
 other of the Greek dramas ; in which, for the most part, the 
 
 7 * 
 
78 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 actors are more or less statuesque, sublime, impassive per 
 sonages, delivering sonorous sentiments, with occasional grand 
 bursts of passion or pathos, but little influenced by human 
 motives, or subject to human passions. We, however, have 
 in Klytaimnestra a character scarcely second for the power 
 of its conception and the breadth of its outlines to the Lady 
 Macbeth of Shakspeare, and filled in with the nicest attention 
 to details, and the most thorough knowledge of the human 
 heart. We have in Kassandra all that we can conceive of the 
 demented, yet inspired, Pythoness ; and in Agamemnon all that 
 we require or expect of stateliness and majesty in the taker 
 of Troy, and of that sustained and firm solidity, which enables 
 us to see in him the chief actor in that dread sacrifice which 
 was the precursor of his own doom. 
 
 This is no place for a long or elaborate essay on this won 
 drous effort of human genius ; with this slight sketch, therefore, 
 of its plot, and this brief explanation of its intent and inner 
 meaning, as I understand them, I submit to the candid and 
 kindly judgment of the judicious this version of what I es 
 teem the most complete and tragical of the tragic dramas of 
 antiquity. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 THE WATCHER. 
 
 CHORUS, of Aged Citizens. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 TALTKYBIOS, the Herald. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
A GAME M N O 1ST . 
 
 SCENE. An open place, in front of the palace of the Atreidce, at Argos. On 
 the (eft hand, a view of the city ; on the right, in the distance, the sea-shore ; 
 before the palace an altar, with statues of several Gods, Zeus, Apollo, and 
 Hermes. TJie stage is vacant ; but on a tower, above the palace-roof, a 
 watcher is seen, who prologizes. 
 
 The time, at the commencement, is night drawing toward morning ; day breaks 
 as the drama proceeds ; and, although the continuity of action is apparently 
 kept up, the unity of time, at least, is violated throughout the piece ; considera 
 ble periods being supposed to elapse during the singing of the choral songs. 
 
 THE WATCHER. 
 
 X RESPITE of these toils, my watch through years 
 Long-drawn, I crave the Gods, my dog-like watch, 
 Which, couched on the Atreides roof, I keep, 
 Marking the concourse of the nightly stars, 
 Bearers to men of heat or wintry cold, 5 
 
 Resplendent dynasts gorgeous in the sky, 
 What time they wane in heaven and when they rise. 
 And still I wait the signal of the torch, 
 
82 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The glare of flame, to speed the news from Troy, 
 
 The rumor of her fall. For so commands 10 
 
 A wife s man-counselling, expectant heart. 
 
 Nor, since this night-disturbed couch I hold, 
 
 Unvisited by dreams and dew besprent, 
 
 Which terror ministers, not gentle sleep, 
 
 Have my closed eyes known rest ; but when I seek 15 
 
 In some old ballad or low-whistled air 
 
 An antidote to drowsiness, my tears 
 
 Drown the poor remedy, and lament the woe 
 
 Of this old house, well ordered by its lords 
 
 No longer. 0, but gladly would it come, 20 
 
 At glare of the blessed fire through darkness seen, 
 
 Cessation of this toil 
 
 The glare of a beacon suddenly appears in the distance on the right hand. 
 
 And lo ! all hail, 
 Torch of the night, a lustre as of day 
 Dispensing, and the mirth of many a dance 
 And choir in Argos, for thy tidings sake. 25 
 
 What, ho ! What, ho ! To Agamemnon s wife 
 I signify aloud that, from her couch 
 Speedily rising, she set up the cry 
 Shrill through the house, this fortunate torch to hail ; 
 Since now Troy town is taken, as the blaze 30 
 
 Of yon clear beacon tells us. I myself 
 Will dance the prelude to it, and deem it gain 
 To my good lords that this my beacon-watch 
 Thrice six hath thrown o the dice. 0, may t be mine 
 
AGAMEMNON. 83 
 
 To clasp him hand with hand, and welcome home 35 
 
 Our house s king ! The rest I speak not of. 
 
 Great silence guards my tongue ; and yet the house, 
 
 The house itself, could it take voice, might cry 
 
 Most loud and clear. For me, I willing speak 
 
 To who know this ; to who know not, am dumb. 40 
 
 The CHOKUS now make their appearance in the orchestra, bdoiv the stage. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ten years have come, ten years have flown, 
 Since Priam s rivals twain, 
 The strong Atreidae, rushed amain, 
 King Menelaos, and his fere, 
 
 Great Agamemnon, heaven-endowed 45 
 
 With twofold sceptre, twofold throne. 
 Seaward, with martial rescue loud, 
 A thousand galleys in their train, 
 Fierce did they steer, 
 
 Shrieking their war-notes stern and dread, 50 
 
 Like eagles, o er their wind-rocked bed 
 On oary pinions wheeling high, 
 Who hear their ravished nestlings cry, 
 Robbed of the fond domestic care 
 
 That linked them to their lofty lair. 55 
 
 But an avenger soon is found, 
 Who hears on high the piercing sound 
 Of parents wailing shrill and hollow ; 
 Pan, or Zeus, or haply Apollo, 
 Who sends upon the sinner s track 60 
 
84 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The slow-foot fury never slack. 
 
 So Zeus, on guest-rites aye intent, 
 
 Forth the strong sons of Atreus sent, 
 
 On Paris to avenge his wrong, 
 
 And hers, the oft-espoused wife ; 6-"> 
 
 Preparing keen and deadly strife, 
 
 With javelins shattered in the thrust, 
 
 And stout knees wrestling in the dust, 
 
 For Greeks and Trojans both. But now 
 
 E en as it is, it is ; and fate is wroken. 70 
 
 For not by sacrifice, or vow, 
 
 Or tear-drop shed, or supplication spoken, 
 
 Shall mortal soothe the endless ire 
 
 Of them whose hearth admits no fire. 
 
 But we, with worthless limbs and old, 75 
 
 Unfitted to the rescue bold, 
 
 Here linger, left behind ; 
 
 Guiding with staves our footsteps slow, 
 
 That totter childlike as they go. 
 
 For youngest babes and grandsires hoar 80 
 
 Are peers ; and in them War is not. 
 
 But he whose spring of life is spent, 
 
 His leaf already sere and shent, 
 
 Three-footed wanders, man no more, 
 
 A day-dream on a lonely shore. 85 
 
 KLTTAIMNESTRA enters from the palace with her train, and begins to offer 
 sacrifice before the various Gods. 
 
 Come, tell me, Klytaimnestra fair, 
 
AGAMEMNON. 8 
 
 Of Tyndareus the queenly heir, 
 
 What is the cry ? The triumph what ? 
 
 Wherefore on all the altars raise 
 
 Of all the Gods this splendid blaze? 90 
 
 Earthly, heavenly, still they glow, 
 
 Of those above, and those below. 
 
 Gods o the city, Gods o the mart, 
 
 Into living light they start. 
 
 Hither, thither, heavenward soaring, 95 
 
 Fed by drugs of royal storing, 
 
 Streams the mighty glare aloft 
 
 With persuasion pure and soft. 
 
 Say, then, lady, what you may, 
 
 If it lawful be to say. 100 
 
 Soothe this bitter care of mine, 
 
 Which at one time rends my breast, 
 
 Ominous of ill, and then, 
 
 From the altars as they shine, 
 
 Growing into life again, 105 
 
 Lulls the angry care to rest. 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 I know the omens which the way along 
 
 Appeared unto the kingly chiefs, for strong 
 
 Age breathes from heaven the confidence of song, 
 
 A kindred grace, no 
 
 What time the impetuous bird sent out 
 
 The Achaians two-throned power, 
 
 And Hellas martial flower, 
 
86 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 In league resolved and stout, 
 
 Sent them with puissant spear, and potent hand, 115 
 
 Against the Teucrian land, 
 
 The king of birds to the king of ships appearing, 
 
 The royal palace nearing, 
 
 On the spear-hand conspicuous in place, 
 
 One black, and white-tailed one, 120 
 
 A teeming hare devouring with her race, 
 
 Their last course briefly run. 
 
 Mournfully, mournfully sing; but may the good prevail. 
 
 Antlslrophe. 
 
 The camp s wise seer observed the brother kings, 
 Diverse of soul, and knew the warlike wings 125 
 
 Of those hare-slaughterers, what hidden things 
 They did portend, 
 
 Speeding the host. And thus he spake 
 Prophetical. " In time, 
 
 This host Troy town sublime, 130 
 
 With all her towers, shall take. 
 And Fate the treasures of her popular store 
 Shall sack, the walls before. 
 0, may no wrath divine this curb of iron 
 With ominous gloom environ, 135 
 
 Forged by our host Troy s haughty neck to bend ! 
 For Artemis divine 
 
 Hateth Zeus winged hounds, that so did rend 
 The hare with all her line. 
 Mournfully, mournfully sing ; but may the good prevail. HO 
 
AGAMEMNON. 87 
 
 Epode. 
 
 " So tender is that Goddess fair 
 To savage lion s youngling brood, 
 And all the whelps that whine for food, 
 In sylvan lair. 
 
 Therefore seek we omens good 145 
 
 In the eagles meal of blood. 
 In the vision of those royal birds 
 Signs were twain, of weal and woe. 
 Thence call I on protecting Paian, 
 That no gales he let to blow 150 
 
 To weatherbind our fleets with angry surge, 
 And haply urge 
 
 Another feast, unfestive and unholy, 
 Parent of kindred strife, revering not 
 The lord espoused of the wedded lot. 155 
 
 For fearful retribution waits, 
 Treason within the palace-gates, 
 And crime begetting crime." 
 Such were the fates, which, in appalling words, 
 Blended with omens bright and true, 160 
 
 Old Kalchas from the wayside eagles drew. 
 Therefore, in answering strain, 
 Mournfully, mournfully sing; but may the good prevail. 
 
 Strophe i. 
 
 J T is Zeus, whoe er he be, if so 
 
 To be invoked he love, 165 
 
 So I do him invoke, 
 
88 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 For I have none to whom to pray, 
 
 Considering all things duly, 
 
 Save Zeus ; if it be given in very sooth and truly 
 
 To cast this heavy load away, 
 
 Of vain but anxious woe. 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 For lie who was, in days of old, 
 
 So mighty and so great 
 
 In his unconquered state, 
 
 Can nothing say, he is no more. l?5 
 
 And He, the next in glory, 
 
 His conqueror hath met, and so is told his story. 
 
 But who with paeans Zeus adore 
 
 Their hearts desire shall hold. 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 T is Zeus who forces mortals to be wise, 180 
 
 And makes the lore of truth to rise 
 
 From pain s soul-searching trial. 
 
 For e en in slumber on the guilty heart 
 
 Conscience will drip, and wisdom start, 
 
 In spite the soul s denial. is"> 
 
 Yea ! of the Gods, who sit on scats sublime, 
 
 The very grace acts forcefully sometime. 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 The eldest leader of the Achaian ships 
 
 No prophet blamed with angry lips, 
 
 But bowed to his dark fate sadly, 190 
 
 What time the Achaian army day by day 
 
AGAMEMNON. 89 
 
 Upon the refluent sea-banks lay 
 
 Of Aulis, murmuring madly ; 
 
 For they did pine old Chalcis straits within, 
 
 Famished and wind-bound for their monarch s sin. 195 
 
 Strophe in. 
 
 When the gales from northward blowing 
 Where the Strymon cold is flowing, 
 Bearing on their angry way 
 Famine fierce and foul delay, 
 
 Drifting sailors o er the main, 200 
 
 Ships and anchors madly tearing, 
 Long and reckless and unsparing, 
 Wasted all the flower of Greece 
 Weatherbound in weary peace, 
 
 When the prophet shrieked aloud 205 
 
 To the leaders of the crowd, 
 A remedy more dreadful naming 
 Than the long and bitter blast, 
 Artemis fell wrath proclaiming, 
 That the sons of Atreus twain 210 
 
 * 
 
 Dashed their sceptres in the dust, 
 Nor their tears could then restrain. 
 
 Antistrophe in. 
 
 Then the elder monarch loudly 
 Thus outspake, though nothing proudly: 
 "Hard the fate to disobey. 215 
 
 Hard, if I my child must slay, 
 Household gem, the shrines before, 
 
90 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Hands paternal redly telling 
 
 Of the virgin s life-blood welling. 
 
 What is here apart from woe ? o 20 
 
 How can I a traitor go 
 
 From this boldly-banded host, 
 
 Pining on this cursed coast? 
 
 For they the storm-appeasing slaughter 
 
 As a lawful boon may crave. 225 
 
 They the life-blood of my daughter 
 
 Rightfully may thirst to pour. 
 
 Be it then for weal. And may 
 
 Artemis be wroth no more." 
 
 Strophe iv. 
 
 But when he had bowed to the yoke of fate, 230 
 
 Outbreathing from his soul 
 Altered resolves, accursed, 
 Impious, unholy, then 
 He nerved his wavering spirit straight 
 All things to dare and do. 235 
 
 For frenzy sprung from ill deeds wrought of old 
 Revives, base counsellor, and makes men bold 
 To crimes unheard and new. 
 Therefore he dared his child to immolate, 
 The victim-fee of wife-avenging war 240 
 
 And prelude of the navy s roar. 
 
 Antistrophe iv. 
 
 Her piteous cries to a father s ear, 
 Her spotless maidenhood, 
 
AGAMEMNON. 91 
 
 And youthful charms, at nought 
 
 They set, chiefs war-athirst ; 245 
 
 And, the prayer o er, that father dear 
 
 Bespake the priestly rout, 
 
 Downcast in all her soul, to lift her high, 
 
 Raised like a kid on the altar-stone to die, 
 
 Swathed with her robes about, 250 
 
 And gag with speechless force of curbs severe 
 
 Her lips love-breathing, that they find no tongue 
 
 Cursing her house the rites among. 
 
 Strophe v. 
 
 Then, pouring o er the plain her golden blood, 
 Fair as a pictured maid in beauty s prime, 255 
 
 She pierced each sacrificer s heart 
 With pity s dearest dart, 
 Shot from her sadly-supplicating eye, 
 Striving to speak, as oft at banquets high, 
 In the guest-chambers of her father s hall, 260 
 
 She poured her voice ; 
 All as she greeted with her fondest lays 
 Her dearest sire s thrice-honored happy days, 
 And bade his age rejoice. 
 
 Ant i strop he v. 
 
 What thence befell I saw not, nor can say. 265 
 
 But not in vain did Kalchas riddle fate. 
 But justice so the scale doth turn 
 That the sufferers must learn. 
 Let then the future all unquestioned go. 
 Since be it must. And what availeth woe 270 
 
92 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Foreboding ill, when with the morrow s ray 
 
 The end is at hand ? 
 
 May all things, then, fall happy in the end 
 
 That way our honest wishes singly tend, 
 
 "Who guard this Apian land. 275 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thy station, Klytaimncstra, to bid hail, 
 Hither I ccme. For just it is the wife 
 Of royalty to honor, when the throne 
 Lacks its male lord. But fain I am to know 
 Whether on faith of happy news, or not, ^KI 
 
 Thine altars blaze, propitiating hope 
 That shall be. Yet speak not, if speech seem ill. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 From night, its mother, as the saying goes, 
 Fraught with glad tidings may the morn arise ; 
 So shalt thou hear, excelling all thine hope, 285 
 
 High news, how Argive spears Troy town have won. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What sayest ? Through lack of faith it hath fled mine ear. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 The Achaians Troy have taken. Speak I clear? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Joy wins my heart, and prompts the honest tear. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Thine eye bears witness to thy bosom s truth. 290 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hast thou sure tokens that thy words are sooth? 
 
AGAMEMNON. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Sure tokens ; if some God deceive me not. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Have flattering dreams tins hopeful trust begot ? 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 I trust not, I, the thought of a sleeping mind. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Dost then believe some wingless presage blind ? 205 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Am I a girl, that thus my words you rack ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 When did the Greeks the royal city sack? 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 I the very night whence springs yon dawning sun. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What herald hither could so quickly run ? 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Ilephaistos, forth from Ida sending light. 300 
 
 Thence beacon hitherward did beacon speed 
 From that fire-signal. Ida to the steep 
 Of Hermes hill in Lemnos ; from the isle 
 Zeus height of Athos did in turn receive 
 The third great bale of flame. The vigorous glare 305 
 Of the fast-journeying pine-torch flared aloft, 
 Joy s harbinger, to skim the ridgy sea, 
 Sending its golden beams, even as the sun, 
 Up to Makistos watch-towers. Nothing loath 
 Did he, nor basely overcome by sleep, 310 
 
94 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Perform his herald part. Afar the ray 
 
 Burst on Euripos stream, its beaconed news 
 
 Telling the watchers on Mcssapion high. 
 
 They blazed in turn, and sent the tidings on, 
 
 Kindling with ruddy flame the heather gray. 315 
 
 Thence, nought obscured, went up the mighty glow, 
 
 And, like the smiling moon, Asopos plain 
 
 O erleaped, and on Kithairon s rock awoke 
 
 Another pile of telegraphic fire. 
 
 Nor did the watchmen there, with niggard hand, 320 
 
 Deny the torch, that blazed most bright of all. 
 
 Athwart the lake Gorgopis shot the gleam, 
 
 Stirring the guards on Aigiplanctos hill, 
 
 Lest it should fail to shine, the appointed blaze. 
 
 Kindled with generous zeal, they sent aloft 325 
 
 The mighty beard of flame, that streamed so high 
 
 To flash beyond the towering heights which guard 
 
 The gulf Saronic. Thence it shot, it reached 
 
 Arachnes cliff, the station next our town ; 
 
 Down darting thence to the Atreides* roof, 330 
 
 Child of that fire which dawned on Ida s hill. 
 
 Such was the order of the beaconed lights 
 
 Arranged before, and in succession swift 
 
 Each after each fulfilled. The first and last 
 
 I the glittering race is victor. This the proof, 335 
 
 The signal which I tell ye, told to me 
 
 By my good lord from Troy. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To the Gods anon 
 
AGAMEMNON. 95 
 
 My voice I 11 raise, woman ! Now to hear 
 
 Thy words, and marvel to the end, I thirst. 
 
 Please you relate, from first to last, the tale. 340 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTKA. 
 
 The Achaians Troy have won this very day. 
 A double din i the captured city now 
 Hoars dissonant, I ween. Acid and oil 
 Poured in one vessel mix not, ye would say, 
 In amity ; and so, the diverse cries 345 
 
 Of victors and of vanquished might ye hear, 
 Confused, not blent, of triumph or of woe. 
 For these, upon the prostrate bodies lying 
 Of husbands, brethren, or of parents old, 
 "With piteous wail from throats no longer free 350 
 
 Lament the fate of friends most loved of all. 
 But those the rugged toil of the nightly fray 
 Hath set keen-hungered to such hasty meat 
 As the city proffers, in no ordered ranks 
 Marshalled to banquet, but as each hath drawn 355 
 
 The lot of fortune. In the spear-won halls 
 Of Troy they revel, from untented frosts 
 Hare change, and dews of heaven. But well, I trow, 
 And all unguarded, will they sleep to-night. 
 And if the Gods who guard the captured land 360 
 
 They duly honor, and their seats divine, 
 Not easily shall they who took be ta en. 
 Then may the host no thought so ill befall 
 To crave forbidden things, by victory 
 
96 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Vanquished. For lo ! or ere they may cry " Won ! " 365 
 
 The homeward half of the race is yet to run. 
 
 But should the army hated of the Gods 
 
 Turn hither, though no present plague be sent, 
 
 It may yet rue the vengeance of the slain 
 
 Unsleeping. From a woman hear ye this ; 370 
 
 May the good prevail, unmingled, nought but good. 
 
 Had I my choice of all, so choose I would. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Kindly, as with the wisdom of a man, 
 Woman, thou sayest. And I on certain faith 
 Of these thy tidings will the Gods adore. 375 
 
 For triumph worthy of the toil is won. 
 
 Zeus, mighty monarch, Night, our befriender, 
 And winner of glory sublime, 
 
 Who over Troy towers, in thy darkest of hours, 
 
 Didst cast the dread net, that nor little nor great, 380 
 
 Young nor aged, should shun 
 
 The fetters of slavery, sentence of fate, 
 
 Great Zeus, I adore thee ! God of guests, low before thee 
 
 1 bow, for that this thou hast done ; 
 
 Who didst bend, long ago, against Paris thy bow, 385 
 That, the stars not overshooting, in fulness of time, 
 Thy shaft to the target should go. 
 Strophe i. 
 
 They are struck by Zeus. T is meet 
 
 Thus to deem and to proclaim. 
 
 He decreed, and he hath done. 390 
 
AGAMEMNON. 97 
 
 One said the Gods are all too great 
 
 For mortal men to care, 
 
 By whom of holiest things the grace 
 
 Defiled is. But he was base. 
 
 And they in sooth have slain the race 395 
 
 Of sires, who breathed the breath of war too strong 
 
 For justice, when their halls abounded 
 
 With bliss immoderate. 
 
 Then be my lot secure from woe, 
 
 That I an equal mind may sway, 400 
 
 Prepared for either fate. 
 
 Since wealth is not a castled wall, 
 
 To save the man of wrong, 
 
 Who spurns at virtue s altar-stone, 
 
 From swift and sudden fall. 405 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 Intolerable child of fate, 
 
 Fell persuasion crime compels, 
 
 Fore-counsellor; and help is none. 
 
 Guilt ne er is hid, but shineth clear, 
 
 A hideous-glaring light. 410 
 
 And like to brass, its worth denied, 
 
 The sinner, on the touchstone tried, 
 
 Is blackened, and not purified. 
 
 For he, a boy, pursues the wild bird s wing, 
 
 And bringeth on his city vengeance. 415 
 
 His prayer no God will hear, 
 
 But, in revenge of his ill deed, 
 
 9 
 
98 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The foul transgressor taketh off 
 
 Short in his mid career. 
 
 So Paris, when he came in evil clay 420 
 
 To visit Sparta s king, 
 
 His hospitable board disgraced, 
 
 And stole his bride away. 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 Swiftly through the gates she came, 
 
 Having done the deed of shame ; 425 
 
 Left her citizens behind her, 
 
 Hotly hurrying to and fro, 
 
 Snatching buckler, spear, and bow, 
 
 Launching galleys to the shore, 
 
 Stretching to the toilsome oar. 430 
 
 But to Ilion ruin led, 
 
 The dowry of her bridal bed. 
 
 Then the prophets wild and wide 
 
 Through the palace made their moan. 
 
 "Woe for the house! the house 1" they cried; 435 
 
 " Woe for the bed, the marriage bed ! the places 
 
 Where hallowed love hath left its holy traces ! " 
 
 Mute, dishonored, not reviling, 
 
 He is there alone. 
 
 Nor can he his eyes believe, 440 
 
 That see her lost for ever. 
 
 Worn away by weary yearning 
 
 After her beyond the main, 
 
 Ghost-like through his house he stalks. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 99 
 
 Of the statues in his hall 445 
 
 All the loveliness is lost 
 
 To the hero passion-tost ; 
 
 For aye his empty eyes are turning 
 
 Toward her he ne er shall see again, 
 
 And all beauty else is vain. 450 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 Ever o er his couch at night 
 Hover empty visions bright, 
 Fitful pleasures round him flinging, 
 Dreams of happy-seeming show, 
 
 Which shall leave him waking woe. 455 
 
 For the joys we see in sleep 
 Ever leave us prone to weep, 
 When the visions fleet away, 
 With fleeting sleep, at dawn of day, 
 Gliding through our hands, outspread 460 
 
 To enfold them as they flee. 
 Around the hearth, and o er the bed, 
 Such are the woes, and worse, 
 Which brooding sit. But sorrow darkly swelling 
 From their transgression glooms o er every dwelling, 465 
 Since they fled the shores of Hellas 
 O er the sounding sea. 
 Many woes there are, the heart 
 Which pierce with endless anguish. 
 Well can each one know and number 470 
 
 Those, who left him to deplore, 
 
100 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 When he sent them forth to war. 
 But for heroes brave and tall, 
 Rushing to the battle plain, 
 
 This alone comes home again, 475 
 
 A little dust of those who slumber, 
 A little of the arms they wore, 
 Carried back to each one s door. 
 Strophe in. 
 
 When Ares, bartering blood for gold, 
 Who holds the scale i the strife of spears, 480 
 
 Sends from the Trojan funeral fires 
 Sad dust bewailed with bitter tears, 
 Heaping the urns, which each a hero hold, 
 With mighty ashes cold ; 
 
 While here the mourners groan, 485 
 
 Reciting each the virtues of his own, 
 Deploring him, for skill in battle shown, 
 And him, for that he nobly died 
 In rescuing another s bride. 
 
 In sullen silence murmur these, 490 
 
 And stormy sorrows still increase, 
 Cursing the vengeance of the Atreides. 
 But where they fell, the battled wall around, 
 Those that so comely were in Trojan ground 
 Their lodgments hold ; but o er each holder s head 495 
 Heavy and deep the hostile earth is spread. 
 
 Antistrophe HI. 
 
 Bitter and fierce the civic roar 
 
AGAMEMNON. 101 
 
 Demands the debt of those who fell 
 
 Upholders of the popular doom. 
 
 And sadly doth my spirit dwell 500 
 
 On things by blackest darkness covered o er, 
 
 That yet may smite us sore. 
 
 The spirits of the slain 
 
 Make keen espials ; and the dismal train 
 
 Of furies surely smite to earth again 505 
 
 Him who hath grown unjustly great, 
 
 By fortune raised to lawless state. 
 
 And strength or glory there is none 
 
 To those who lie in dust o erthrown ; 
 
 And peril hunts the bliss too broadly blown. 510 
 
 Right in his eyes Zeus thunderbolt is cast 
 
 To blast it. Grant me, then, the moderate lot. 
 
 Nor let me conqueror of kingdoms be, 
 
 Nor to a master bend the captive knee. 
 
 Epode, 
 
 Swift through the city speeds the voice of glee, 5!5 
 
 From glad fire-tidings born ; if troth to see 
 
 Who knows, or of the Gods a cheat divine ? 
 
 For who so childlike, or bereft of mind, 
 
 As first to glad his heart at new-lit shine 
 
 Of beacon-flames, then fall to grief again 520 
 
 For altered tidings ? T is the woman s trick 
 
 To leap at joy, or ere the cause she see. 
 
 For female souls are led right trustingly 
 
 To swift conclusion, but the fame that springs 
 
102 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 From woman s tongue no lasting honor brings. 535 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Soon shall we know whether it tell us true, 
 This swift-succeeding blaze of beacon-fires 
 And light-dispensing lamps, or like a dream 
 With blissful tidings come our souls to cheat. 
 For lo! with olive-branches shadowed o er, 530 
 
 From the sea-beach a herald, so the dust, 
 Clay s thirsty sister, tells me, who shall speak 
 No voiceless tidings, nor with empty smoke 
 Of mountain-kindled fires relate his tale, 
 But either with his words a mightier joy 535 
 
 Impart, or But away with ominous fear, 
 And, 0, may bright success bright wishes cheer ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 May he who prays aught else for this our state 
 Reap to himself the harvest of his hate. 
 
 TALTHYBIOS, the herald, enters from the right, decorated with olive-loughs, as 
 from the sea-shore, just arrived from Troy. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 natal continent of Argive earth, 540 
 
 Once more I tread thce, by this ten-year sun 
 Illumined, many hopes denied, but this 
 Blissfully granted ; for I dared not pray 
 So small a share of Argive soil to hold, 
 As should my bones o erlay. Hail, mother earth ! 545 
 Hail, holy sunshine ! and thou, highest Zeus, 
 Our country s God ! and thou, who ne er at us 
 
AGAMEMNON. 103 
 
 Shalt aim thy shafts immortal, Pythian king ! 
 
 Hostile enough on red Scamander s marge 
 
 Wert thou. Henceforth our friend and Saviour be, 550 
 
 Royal Apollo. Thee, and all the Gods, 
 
 Who judge our sacred contests, I invoke ; 
 
 And mine own patron, Hermes, herald God, 
 
 Glory of heralds. And ye, heroes old, 
 
 Who sent us forth to battle, friendly now, 555 
 
 Spared by the ruthless spear, receive our host. 
 
 royal palaces, roofs well beloved, 
 
 And solemn altars, and sun-facing Gods, 
 
 If e er before, now with propitious eyes 
 
 Receive the king long absent ! For he comes, 560 
 
 Great Agamemnon, bringing to you light 
 
 In darkness, and to all His people joy. 
 
 Salute him fairly, then, as doth beseem, 
 
 Who with the ploughshare of avenging Zeus 
 
 Razed the foundation of Troy town, that all 565 
 
 Her altars prostrate are, and holy shrines, 
 
 Her very seed uprooted from the soil. 
 
 Thus comes he homeward, such a yoke imposed 
 
 On downfallen Troy, the elder AtreVd king, 
 
 The happy mortal most of mortal men 570 
 
 Now living worth renown. For now no more 
 
 Can Paris or his town their doing boast 
 
 More than their suffering. Right dearly he 
 
 The judgment of his violent theft did owe ; 
 
 So lost his captive ; and with all his kin 575 
 
104 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Most utterly destroyed his father s house. 
 For twofold crimes was twofold vengeance due 
 By Priam s race, and they have paid it through. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hail ! from the host herald of glorious strife. 
 
 HERALD. 
 So blest am I, I seek no longer life. 530 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hath yearning for thy country stirred thy soul ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 That tears of rapture down my visage roll. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Blest thy disease, and blest its symptoms too. 
 
 HERALD. 
 How mean thy words? Teach me their import true. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 The love of those who thee did love in turn. 535 
 
 HERALD. 
 And did the land the love of the host return ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 So well, that oft our secret souls did groan. 
 
 HERALD. 
 Why for the absent army made ye moan ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Silence I know best cure for bitterest sting. 
 
 HERALD. 
 Feared you some ill, i the absence of the king? 590 
 
 CHORUS. 
 So, that to die full oft I should rejoice. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 105 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Pass that ; for all is well. I the lapse of years, 
 Some happy things each mortal must befall, 
 And some that grieve him. For, save God alone, 
 Who to the end of time no grief hath known? 595 
 
 For should I name our labors on the deep, 
 Storm-tossings, landings difficult and rare, 
 For when by day or night did such things cease, 
 Or we cease mourning them ? nor less by land 
 Our sufferings, couched beneath the enemy s wall, 600 
 Wasted by rains from heaven, and meadow-dews, 
 Moulding our raiment, elfing all our hair 
 In savage knots, beast-like ; or should I tell 
 Of piercing winter, froze with Ida s snow 
 Intolerable, that the very birds of air 605 
 
 Perished, of scorching summer, when the sea 
 Sank faint and breezeless in its noonday bed, 
 And slept unruffled Yet why sorrow now ? 
 The suffering is o erpast ; and o erpast, too, 
 For those who sleep in death, to wake again, 610 
 
 Or reck of aught for ever. Wherefore count 
 The numbers perished, we who yet survive, 
 Or mourn the spites of fortune ? Rather I 
 Will triumph in what blessings we still have. 
 For we, the remnant of this Argive host, 615 
 
 Whate er our loss, have won the conquering game. 
 So may we boast, beneath the sun to-day, 
 We who have earth and ocean overflown, 
 
106 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 How, conquerors of Troy, the Achaian host 
 
 Have nailed i the temples captive spoil untold, 620 
 
 To Hellas Gods a votive honor old. 
 
 This heard, the state her generals should own 
 
 With honor ; and with honor duly shown 
 
 The grace of Zeus adore, by which they won. 
 
 You have my news. With this my tale is done. 625 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Beaten in words myself I not deny. 
 To learn good lore is youthful e en in age. 
 Behooves the palace this to have in care, 
 Behooves the queen; and we the joy will share. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Already have I shrieked aloud for glee, 630 
 
 When first the nightly messenger of fire 
 Came with glad tidings, how that Troy was ta en. 
 Then mocking me spake one, " So fond art thou 
 To deem Troy taken, cheated by a blaze ? " 
 And sneered another, " T is a woman s trick 635 
 
 To jump and joy for nothing." Thus jeered they. 
 But I, I sacrificed ; and sent aloft 
 The woman s shout of joy the city round, 
 Hymning the Gods in their high seats, and fed 
 With holiest odors sweet the altar-flame. 640 
 
 And now, I prithee, what wouldst have me say ? 
 From mine own monarch I shall learn the whole. 
 And now to meet him, as he would be met, 
 I reverently hasten. What can be 
 
AGAMEMNON. 107 
 
 More sweeter to a loving wife than this, 645 
 
 The gates to open, when her lord comes home, 
 
 Saved by his God, from battle ? Tell my lord 
 
 He hasten hither, well beloved of the state. 
 
 A faithful wife, I wot, come when he may, 
 
 He 11 find i the house, e en as he left her there, 650 
 
 A watch-dog, true to him, fierce to his foes, 
 
 And so in all things trusty ; not a seal, 
 
 In all these years, have I broken ; nor, in truth, 
 
 Pleasure with other men, or ill report, 
 
 More than brass knows of temper, have I known. 655 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Such boast as this, an if the boast be true, 
 The noblest woman nothing needs to rue. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 So hath she spoken, that her words right clear, 
 And easy to be marked, have filled thine ear. 
 But tell me, Herald, what I fain would know. 660 
 
 Comes Menelaos with the homeward host 
 Safe from the war, his country s pride and boast ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Though happy news to joy you I should feign, 
 Ere long that joy would turn to grief again. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 But I would have you speak glad things and true 665 
 At once. Dissevered, they are ill to view. 
 
 HERALD. 
 Lost is the hero, lost his galley too, 
 
108 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 From the Argive fleet. My speech, though sad, is true. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Did he steer openly from Ilion s plain, 
 Or from the fleet was storm-tost on the main? 670 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 E en as an archer good, hast shot i the white ; 
 This mighty horror thou hast guessed aright. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What tidings of his fate, alive or dead, 
 Among the mariners of the host were spread ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 None speak his fate, for it is known to none, 675 
 
 Unless to nature s nurturer, the Sun. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Sayest thou the storm by ireful demons sent 
 O erhung the fleet, till all its rage was spent? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 It is not meet a fortunate day to mar 
 With tongue ill-omened. Reverence to the Gods 680 
 Forbids it. But whene er, with brow of gloom, 
 Disastrous tidings from a downfallen host 
 A herald bears to the state, that one dread wound 
 Hath sapped the public weal ; that many a house 
 Hath many a hero lost, by that twin scourge, 685 
 
 Of Ares well beloved, fire and steel, 
 A bloody pair, a doubly-cleaving fate, 
 When such the tidings dread which load him down, 
 Then let him chant the Furies fatal strain. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 1Q9 
 
 But if, blithe messenger, blithe news he bring 690 
 
 Of prosperous matters to a joyous town, 
 
 How can I blend good things with ill, to say 
 
 That the storm smote the Greeks unsent of God ? 
 
 For the two, strong foes of old, did then conjure, 
 
 Water and fire, and conjuration kept 695 
 
 Faithful, destroying the poor Argive fleet. 
 
 At dead of night the billowy wrath awoke, 
 
 For ship on ship the Thracian tempest drave 
 
 In dire collision, that, with butting beaks 
 
 By the winds hurly and the waves uproar, 700 
 
 They perished mutual, like rams that fight, 
 
 Ill-shepherded. But when the cheering light 
 
 Of the great sun went up, we saw the waves 
 
 Of that 2Egean Sea with corpses cold 
 
 Of heroes blossoming, and wrecks o the fleet. 705 
 
 But us and our good ship, uninjured all, 
 
 Some God, or stole from fate, or saved by prayer, 
 
 Guiding the helm, for man could save us not. 
 
 But Fortune sat upon our stern, sublime, 
 
 A saviour, that we foundered not i the surge, 710 
 
 Nor struck upon the reefs of the rock-bound coast ; 
 
 But rescued from the rage of that sea-hell 
 
 Into clear daylight, Fortune trusting not, 
 
 We fed with deepest thought our sorrows new, 
 
 Mourning the shattered host, like ashes strewn. 715 
 
 And if of these a remnant yet survive, 
 
 They deem us perished, wherefore should they not, 
 
 10 
 
AGAMEMNON. 
 
 When we so deem of them ? But good betide, 
 
 If good may be. And Menelaos first 
 
 Hope to behold arriving, since, I ween, 720 
 
 If any sunbeam look on him alive, 
 
 And blest with sight, good hope there still may be 
 
 Of his home-coming safe, by Zeus consent, 
 
 Who wills not all this royal race to blast. 
 
 Thou hearest this. T is truth from first to last. 725 
 
 Here the HERALD leaves the stage by the right side-entrance, as returning to the 
 sea-shore to await the arrival of AGAMEMNON, and to bear him the message 
 of KLYTAIMNESTRA, bidding him hail 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA, if she have not already retired at the close of her last speech, 
 v. 655, also retires into the palace by the central entrance of the back scene, as 
 about to prepare for the reception of her lord. 
 
 The CHORUS are now left alone, in possession of the stage, for the first time 
 since their entrance; and this marks the close of the first division, or act, of 
 the drama, the second commencing with the arrival of AGAMEMNON and 
 KASSANDRA, and tending directly to the grand catastrophe, by which it is 
 concluded on the departure of KASSANDRA from the scene, at v. 1377. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe I. 
 
 Who was it ? Who, that named of yore, 
 
 And with a name so true, 
 
 Was it not He whom none may view, 
 
 Who sees each hidden secret through, 
 
 And reads the end the cause before, 730 
 
 Helen strife-breeder, spear-wed wife ? 
 
 Who, ships, men, realms, to hell devoting, 
 
 Sailed from her softly-curtained bower, 
 
 Before the breath of giant zephyr floating ; 
 
 While, chasing keen their trackless oars, 735 
 
AGAMEMNON. Ill 
 
 Which fled to Simois leafy shores, 
 Stanch to pursue their game, 
 Many, through bloody strife, 
 Shield-bearing hunters came. 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 T was wrath divine, which sent to Troy 740 
 
 That well-named curse abhorred, 
 To avenge the shame of the festive board, 
 And Zeus , the holy hearth-stone s lord, 
 In time, on that adulterous boy, 
 
 And all the hymeneal crowd, 745 
 
 Who prized that nuptial strain unduly, 
 Which echoed then the streets along. 
 But Priam s ancient city learned too truly, 
 In altered mood, a sadder strain, 
 
 Calling accursed the bridal train, 750 
 
 And Paris of the ill-omened bed, 
 Or ere she wept aloud 
 Her sons in slaughter red. 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 Thus men the lion s whelp have fed 
 
 A weanling in their houses dread, 755 
 
 Still for his dug-drawn parent pining, 
 
 Tame in the prelude of his life, 
 
 Playful and innocent of strife, 
 
 Loved of the old, to the children mild, 
 
 And oft, as if himself a child, 760 
 
 Nursed in fond arms, with visage bland, 
 
112 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Fawning upon the friendly hand 
 That gives him bread. 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 But let time travel, and in sooth 
 
 You 11 find his native instincts truth. 765 
 
 In guerdon of his kind upbringing, 
 Through reeking sheepfolds hear him roar, 
 Defiling all the house with gore, 
 A ravening, unbidden guest, 
 
 Invincible domestic pest ; 770 
 
 Fell priest, by the God in anger sent, 
 To be the house s punishment 
 Which fed his youth. 
 
 Strophe m. 
 
 So I would say to Ilion s gate 
 
 She came, a spirit of a breezeless culm, rro 
 
 An innocent gem of wealthy state, 
 A tender dart of sidelong eyes, 
 Soft love s soul-piercing flower. 
 But she had gone astray, 
 
 And woe was the worth of her bridal day ! 780 
 
 To the sons of Priam a curse she came, 
 A fury revengeful, in the guise 
 Of a fair wedded dame. 
 With woe to their city, and woe to their kin, 
 T was Zeus, the guest-guardian, who sent her in. 785 
 
 Antistrophe in. 
 
 There is an ancient saw, I know, 
 
AGAMEMNON. 113 
 
 That perfect bliss of man not childless dies, 
 
 But that the blackest crops of woe, 
 
 The house overrunning wild and dread, 
 
 From fairest fortunes rise. 790 
 
 But this I credit not, 
 
 Though others believe it. For guilt is begot 
 
 Upon olden guilt, and the child must be 
 
 E en as the first o the stock was bred 
 
 Of the old parent tree. 795 
 
 But the house that is just and free from sin, 
 
 Its fate shall breed blessings in and in. 
 
 Strophe iv. 
 
 Old crime is wont new crime to generate 
 Of the ill deeds of men, 
 
 When comes the appointed day of fate ; 800 
 
 Or now or then. 
 And lo ! the last begets again 
 Unholy hatred, born anew, 
 A daring fiend invincible, 
 
 For ever in the house to dwell, S05 
 
 Black as its parent s hue. 
 
 Antistrophe iv. 
 
 But Justice still in smoky mansions vile., 
 Though they be near the dust, 
 Shines out, illuming with her smile 
 The life o the just. 810 
 
 But gold ill-gotten fly she must, 
 With eyes averted, and the sight 
 10 * 
 
114 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Of hands unclean ; who honors not 
 
 Dishonest wealth s unhallowed lot, 
 
 But governs all aright. 815 
 
 Anapasts. 
 
 Come, then, king, over Troy victorious, 
 Son of Atreus the glorious, 
 How shall I hail thee, how honor thee duly, 
 Neither o ershooting, nor falling below 
 Fit moderation ? 820 
 
 Many of mortals, o erstepping the mark, 
 Honor the semblance, neglecting the deed ; 
 Many are willing to mourn with the loser, 
 Few the mourners who mourn from the heart ; 
 Many are willing to smile with the winner, 825 
 
 Few the smiles which their souls impart. 
 But he who can shepherd his people truly, 
 None shall elude or escape his sight, 
 Though they may seem from souls sincere 
 To tender him amity dear. 830 
 
 But thou, when first in Helene s cause 
 The host didst summon, I natter thee not, 
 Wert accused as graceless and iron of soul, 
 Ruling thy temper without control, 
 A giver of daring to dying men, 835 
 
 Where daring there none should be. 
 But now neither rash nor rude are we 
 To welcome whose success w T e see. 
 For time is the test by which it is given 
 
AGAMEMNON. 115 
 
 The people to know 840 
 
 The worker of weal, or the worker of woe, 
 In the ruler of the state. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Mine Argos first, and her indigenous Gods, 
 T is meet I worship, who have brought me home 
 Victorious, and great justice given to work 845 
 
 On Priam s guilty town. For not in doubt, 
 Nor hesitating, did they cast the lot 
 As who from pleadings learn the worth o* the cause 
 Into the bloody vase, that Troy should fall, 
 With all her sons ; while to the opposite urn, 850 
 
 Untouched of the judge s hand, hope fondly clung. 
 The smoke of her burning tells the tale of Troy. 
 The tempests of fate live ; and ashes cold 
 The last rich breath of dying wealth exhale. 
 For these things to the Gods befits us pay 855 
 
 Most mindful thanks. Have we not vengeance had 
 Of their dire schemings ? For a woman s sake, 
 Hath not our Argive monster, foaled of a mare, 
 The bucklered lion, sprung his fatal spring, 
 Tearing the kingly city to the ground, 860 
 
 What time the Pleiads set, and lapped his fill 
 Of royal blood Troy s lordly towers within ? 
 Thus to the Gods I first ; but now to thee, 
 Not unregardful of thy faith, I turn, 
 Nor hide my thought, but rather much approve 865 
 
 Thy speech. For I do know t is little kin 
 
AGAMEMNON. 
 
 To men the fortunate man with praise to greet 
 
 Ungrudging. For black envy, sitting i the heart, 
 
 Makes double his disease who feels its sting, 
 
 Twice sorrowing, for the ills himself doth owe, 870 
 
 And for the joys which make his neighbour glad. 
 
 I speak that I do know. For I have proved 
 
 All those, who swore them trustiest of the true, 
 
 Friendship s mere mirror, shadow of a shade. 
 
 For of them all, he who unwilling went, 875 
 
 Only Odysseus, pulled i the traces right. 
 
 This, whether he be living or is dead, 
 
 I 11 say of him. But now to council straight 
 
 For the state s weal, and honoring of the Gods, 
 
 In popular session ; that what now well is 880 
 
 Well to continue we may best assay, 
 
 And wherein cure is needed, or by knife 
 
 Or pharmacy persuasive, cure we may. 
 
 Now to my house returning, and my hearth, 
 
 The house s shrine, I lift my hand to the Gods 885 
 
 Who sent me forth, and now have brought me home. 
 
 And may the victory which we hail to-day 
 
 Perch firmly here, and here endure for aye ! 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Men, citizens, seniors of the Argives here, 
 I blush not to rehearse before you all 890 
 
 My passion for my lord. With time s decay 
 The fear of man decayeth. Nothing taught 
 By others will I tell you, but myself 
 
AGAMEMNON. 117 
 
 The miseries I will relate of so long life, 
 
 While he lay Troy before. And first, to sit 895 
 
 A desolate woman in a lonely house, 
 
 No man beside, is hard, with rumors oft, 
 
 Perplexed and terrible, which one brings in 
 
 Breathless, and straight another doth succeed 
 
 With worser yet, and fills the house with woe. 900 
 
 This hero whom you see, had he been pierced 
 
 As oft as I had tidings here at home 
 
 That he was wounded, fuller than a net 
 
 Had been of holes, I ween ; and had he died 
 
 For every telling on J t, he should have had 90s 
 
 More coverings of earth his bones above 
 
 Than three-bodied Geryones of old, 
 
 Once in each body slain, and once entombed. 
 
 .A-nrt irkon^ in rny rtaapnir^ -Pm* cmoli opox-a 
 
 I also would have died, that from my neck 910 
 
 The suicidal noose full oft they tore. 
 
 And hence it is that he, our chiefest pledge 
 
 Of fond affections, stands not by my side, 
 
 Orestes, as he should. Yet marvel not. 
 
 Him doth thy trusty comrade hold in charge, 915 
 
 Strophios of Phokis ; for he bade me fear 
 
 Twofold calamity, thy fate, my lord, 
 
 Troy walls before, and lest the popular rage 
 
 Should spurn all counsel, since the people s thought 
 
 Is aye to kick the fallen. Fraud dwells not 920 
 
 In who so counsels. But to wretched me 
 
118 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The very fount of tears, exhaust and dry, 
 
 Hath failed from sorrowing, not a drop to flow ! 
 
 And in the weary watches of the night 
 
 Mine eyes have wasted, when the lamps were lit, 925 
 
 By me unheeded as I wept. And oft, 
 
 Roused by the slender hummings of the gnat, 
 
 From visions I have started of more w T oes 
 
 Than I had slumbered minutes. So that now 
 
 I hail my lord as the guardian dog of the fold, 930 
 
 The stay which saves the ship, the earth-fast tree 
 
 Which props the roof, the one-begotten son 
 
 Of an old father, the land seen of men 
 
 Shipwrecked and hopeless on the deep, the morn 
 
 Breaking resplendent from a night of storms, 935 
 
 The crystal fountain in a barren waste 
 
 Tu the worn way Hirer. T io paaoliig cmc^O 
 
 Thus to escape at once all thoughts of care. 
 
 Envy us not, ye Gods ! For much of yore, 
 
 Much have we suffered. But thou, dearest lord, 940 
 
 Descend from this thy chariot, yet not set 
 
 Thy lordly sole on the earth, which trod the towers 
 
 Of Troy to dust. Haste, maidens, haste to whom 
 
 The charge was given our hero s path to strew 
 
 With tapestry resplendent. Let the earth 945 
 
 Be purpled straightwise, that he so be led 
 
 By Justice to an unexpected home. 
 
 Then, the Gods willing, what remains to do 
 
 Sleep shall not hinder, but we 11 do that too. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 119 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Offspring of Leda, guardian of my house, 950 
 
 Thy words suit well my absence, both being long. 
 Praise, that would have respect to be thought just, 
 Should come from alien lips, but much less seem 
 Domestic. For the rest, with womanish gauds 
 Effeminate me not, before my feet 955 
 
 Shouting barbaric homage, nor, i my path 
 Strewing rare garments, wake the Gods to faction. 
 These honors are divine. Nor fear I not, 
 Being mere mortal, with a human foot 
 To tread this broidered luxury; as a man 960 
 
 Revere me, not adore me as a God. 
 Without soft foot-cloths, many-colored pomp, 
 My fame hath found a tongue. Not to think ill 
 Is no small gift of the Gods, and happy he 
 Who dies at peace with fortune. Might I see 965 
 
 Such end before me, high my heart would be. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Yet say not thus, denying my request. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 Judgment I may not change to worse from best. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 In fear of the Gods, this thing didst swear to do ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 What best to do know I, if e er man knew. 970 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Faring as thou, what, think st, had Priam done? 
 
120 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 On tapestry he had walked, had he so won. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Then fear not, though the popular voice accuse thee wrong. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 And yet the popular voice speaks loud and long. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 To live unenvied is an unblest life. 975 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 To obey becomes a woman; much less, strife. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 E en to be vanquished well beseems the great. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 Prize you so much the winning i this debate ? 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Be swayed ; and kindly bend your will to me. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Let them unloose my feet, if it so must be, 930 
 
 Shod liker to a bondsman s than a king s, 
 And 0, the while these purples I profane, 
 May no invidious eyeshot of the Gods 
 Smite me, from heaven ! For sin it is and shame 
 The body s manhood to corrupt, on webs 985 
 
 Of costliest fabric trampling, silver-bought. 
 Of this enough ! Then gently lead within 
 This stranger damsel ; since the rule of who 
 Rule kindly pleases the Immortals well, 
 And none, having choice, a slave would choose to be. 990 
 
AGAMEMNON. 121 
 
 But she, the elected first-flower of much spoil, 
 That army s gift, hath followed me. And lo ! 
 Forced by those words of thine, I hie me straight, 
 Treading on purples, toward the palace-gate. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 There is the sea, who shall exhaust its flow ? 995 
 The sea, which nurtures, worth its silver weight, 
 Much purple tincture never fading, dye 
 Of newest garments. Nor our house, my king, 
 Lacks store of such, God willing ; nor knows aught 
 Of stinted need. Rare treading upon these 1000 
 
 There should have been, to absolve me of my vows, 
 Had any oracle set forth thy life 
 So to be ransomed. From a sudden root 
 Foliage hath climbed the eaves, fresh shade and cool 
 Against the Dog. And, as a summer sun 1005 
 
 In winter seen, thy coming glads the house ; 
 Or as, when Zeus presses the unripe fruit 
 Of the wine-grape, a pleasant chill creeps in 
 Through the parched walls, their lord brings blessings home. 
 Zeus, all-fulfilling Zeus, fulfil my prayer, lOio 
 
 And what thou wilt fulfil, that have in care. 
 
 Exeunt AGAMEMNON and train into the palace. Manent KLYTAIMNESTRA, 
 KASSANDRA, and CHORUS. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe i. 
 
 Why ever present doth it flit, 
 This haunting phantom terrible, 
 
122 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 My prescient heart before ? 
 
 Why peals this strain, unbought, unbidden, 1015 
 
 That courage on my soul s dear throne, 
 
 Casting it, like diseased dreams, aside, 
 
 Lightly can sit no more ? 
 
 Time hath -waxed old, since on the strand 
 
 The galleys stood fast-moored i the sand, 1020 
 
 Where first the host with nautic war 
 
 For Ilion made sail. 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 But now, myself, I surely know 
 That host s return triumphant home, 
 Which mine own eyes behold. 1025 
 
 Yet still that self-taught dirge is pealing, 
 Set to no string of tuneful lyres, 
 Within my soul, the Furies chant of woe, 
 Where hope no more is bold. 
 
 Nor errs my spirit, strangely led 1030 
 
 By justice to conclusion dread, 
 Through wild and whirling thoughts. But, 0, 
 May the dire presage fail 1 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 No mortal bliss insatiate 
 
 Is endless ; but its term is nigh, 1035 
 
 For neighbour, ever hard at hand, 
 
 Dwells dark adversity, 
 
 One house within. And the fairest freight 
 
 Of fortune oft will strike the unseen rock ; 
 
AGAMEMNON. 123 
 
 But whoso, weighing well his state, 1040 
 
 Casts to the deep a part, the whole to save, 
 
 His household shall not founder in the shock, 
 
 Nor its hull sink in the sea-wave. 
 
 The bounteous gift of Zeus o erflowing, 
 
 And wealth of furrows annual-growing, 1045 
 
 Can bid disastrous famine stand aloof 
 
 From the contented peasant s roof; 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 But when to earth the life-blood black 
 
 Hath flowed, of mortal man once slain, 
 
 None may recall it to the heart, 1050 
 
 By charm of chanted strain. 
 
 Zeus had been piteous else, and slack, 
 
 Or ere he smote that leech divine so sore, 
 
 Who knew the dead to summon back 
 
 From the dim grave. But did not Fate, of old 1055 
 
 Predestined, hinder me to fathom more 
 
 Of fate from the Gods, my heart had told 
 
 All its drear thoughts, my tongue outspeeding ; 
 
 But now it glooms in darkness, breeding 
 
 Wild woes, nor hopes a happy end to see, 1060 
 
 Frantic with fearful ecstasy. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Enter thou also in. To thee I speak, 
 Kassandra ; for to thee this house within, 
 And many a slave beside, t is given of Zeus 
 The lustral lavers his own altar nigh 1065 
 
124 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 To share unscathed. Descend from out thy car, 
 
 Nor gloom, haughty girl ! For great Alkmene s boy 
 
 To be sold, they say, endured, and the yoke to bear. 
 
 Nor, since this lot of thine is fixed by fate, 
 
 Light bliss it is lords of ancestral state 1070 
 
 To serve. For who to unhoped wealth attain 
 
 Relentless to their slaves unjustly reign. 
 
 You have my greetings, seemly, short, and plain. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To thee she spoke, to thee, straight words and clear, 
 And so hath ended. Thou being ta en of fate, 1075 
 Yield, if yield mayest ! but wilt not yield, I ween. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Sure, if she be not like the stranger bird, 
 The vernal swallow, of a tongue unknown, 
 Barbarical, my words must win her mind. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Obey her. That she bids thee is the best 1080 
 
 As things now be. Dismount thy wheeled throne. 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 I have not leisure, I, in words to waste 
 
 Here at the door. For now already stand 
 
 The destined victims of the central hearth, 
 
 Awaiting steel and fire ; since joy hath come io85 
 
 Sudden and welcome to who hoped it not. 
 
 If, then, thou wilt obey, no tarrying make. 
 
 But if my words, unknown, pierce not thine ear, 
 
 Give with thy barbarous hand a voiceless sign. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 125 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 A clear interpreter she needs, strange wretch, 1090 
 
 Most like in mien to a wild beast new ta en. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Say rather she is mad, and lists ill thoughts, 
 As who, late severed from a conquered home, 
 Comes hither, nor knows how the bit to abide, 
 Till she hath foamed her sanguine rage away. 1095 
 
 With words no more I 11 tempt her silent scorn. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Farther will I forbear, as I have forborne, 
 Pitying, not wroth. Unhappy one, descend ; 
 And easy bend to the yoke, for thou must bend. 
 
 KLYTAIMXESTRA rushes indignant into the palace-gate. Manent KASSAN 
 DRA in her chariot, and the CHORUS. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Strophe i. 
 
 Ah ! welladay ! alas for woe ! 1 100 
 
 Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Why of the Loxian God dost so cry out ? 
 He is not such to need the mourner s shout. 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 Ah ! welladay ! alas for woe ! 
 Apollo! Apollo! 1105 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Again to the God she makes unseemly moan, 
 When nought hath he to do with grief or groan. 
 
126 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Strophe n. 
 
 Apollo, Apollo ! 
 
 Way-side God, destroyer mine, 
 
 Thou hast destroyed me now, this second time. mo 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Her own ill fate her prescient outcry swells ; 
 Still, though a slave, the God in her spirit dwells. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 Apollo, Apollo ! 
 
 Way-side God, destroyer mine, 
 
 Whither hast brought me ? Ho ! what house is here ? 1115 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The Atreides house. This will I tell thee clear, 
 If thou knowest not. No lie shall cheat thine ear. 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Strophe in. 
 
 Ah ! ah ! 
 
 To a God-hated house, a house accursed, 
 
 Witness these kindred slaughters dread, 1120 
 
 These suicidal nooses, 
 
 Man-murderings, and pavements gory-red. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nothing at fault, this stranger, as a hound, 
 Scents ancient murders on this guilty ground. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Antistrophe in. 
 
 Ah ! ah ! 1125 
 
AGAMEMNON. 127 
 
 These ghastly witnesses I must believe, 
 Spectral blood-boltered infants twain, 
 Their hideous doom bewailing, 
 By their own sire devoured, untimely slain. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thy fame of old, prophetic, reached our ear. 1130 
 
 Enough ! We need nor seers nor prophets here. 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Strophe iv. 
 
 What ho ! ye Gods ! What now doth she devise ? 
 
 What new stupendous horror, 
 
 Stupendous, hateful to this roof, 
 
 To all its friends a curse incurable ? 1135 
 
 And succour there is none, aid stands aloof. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What now she prophesies I know not true. 
 I know the rest ; for it rings the whole state through. 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Antistrophe iv. 
 
 Hold ! hold ! Abhorred, wilt thou do the deed, 
 
 In baths luxurious laving 1140 
 
 Thy consort ? How shall I this woe 
 
 Tell to the end? Quickly shall it be done, 
 
 For hand speeds hand to double blow on blow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I comprehend not. This is not to mark 
 Clear warnings, but enigmas dim and dark. 1145 
 
128 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Strophe v. 
 
 "Woe ! woe ! Ye Gods ! ye Gods ! what sight is this ? 
 
 Is it some net of hell ? 
 
 The net, a murderess, a wife ! 
 
 Insatiate o er the race uplift your yell, 
 
 Furies, for sacrifice of life 1150 
 
 Which stoning should avenge. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe vi. 
 
 What fury o er the house dost thou compel 
 To howl out horror ? Awful is the cry. 
 To my heart it hath driven that ruddy drop, 
 At the fated hour which ceases to flow, 1155 
 
 When dark the setting life-beams grow. 
 Swift fate is surely nigh. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Antislrophe v. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Behold ! Behold ! Ho ! save the bull 
 
 From the accursed cow ! 
 
 Him with black horns fierce doth she gore, 1160 
 
 Entangled in the treacherous robes ; and now 
 
 In the bath he falls. The fate once more 
 
 Of the treason-bath I name. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe vi. 
 Though boast I not the skill which reads aright 
 
AGAMEMNON. 129 
 
 Dim bodings, this rings awful in mine ear. 1165 
 
 For when did oracular lore impart 
 
 Any joy to man ? For ever they toll, 
 
 Those dark words divine, to the trembling soul, 
 
 The knell of fateful fear. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Strophe vn. 
 
 Ay me ! Ay me ! Alas my fearful doom ! 1170 
 
 For my own fate must mingle in the cup 
 
 Of wailing. Why, then, thou ruthless God, 
 
 Hast hauled me hitherward, unless to die ? 
 
 Great God Apollo, why ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe vm. 
 
 stricken of spirit and God-possessed ! 1175 
 
 Fearful to list is thy melody, 
 Bemoaning thyself like that dark-brown bird, 
 The pitiful nightingale, 
 Whose voice incessant is ever heard 
 Her weary-woful life to wail, 1180 
 
 With an " for Itys ! and welladay ! " 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Antistrophe vn. 
 
 for the fate of the shrill nightingale ! 
 For unto her the Gods have given a life 
 Tearless and tuneful, and bedecked her form 
 With plumy pinions. But it shall be mine to feel 1185 
 The cleaving two-edged steel. 
 
130 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe vui. 
 
 0, how this frenzying insane woe 
 Hast thou earned, unhappy seer? 
 Why with such ominous utterance dread 
 Dost linger on this lament, 1190 
 
 In strains that bristle the hairs on my head. 
 Whence are these hideous bodings sent, 
 Through what horrible channels of fateful fear ? 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Strophe ix. 
 
 Ho ! the marriage ! Ho ! the bed 
 
 Of fatal Paris, friend-destroying ! 1195 
 
 Ho ! clear waters of Scamander, 
 
 My paternal river ! 
 
 Once, my youthful ways enjoying, 
 
 Dwelt I on thy margins green ; 
 
 But soon shall grim Kokytos and the banks 1200 
 
 Of Acheron list my prophecies, I ween. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe x. 
 
 Why hast thou uttered this so wondrous clear? 
 A new-born child might understand. 
 But I am bit to the soul, a gory wound, 
 E en at thy piteous sorrow s sound, 1205 
 
 Which breaks my heart to hear. 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Antistrophe ix. 
 
 Ho ! the horrors ! Ho ! the fate 
 
AGAMEMNON. 131 
 
 Of the wretched ruined city ! 
 Ho ! bull-slaughterings full and frequent 
 Of my royal father ! 121$ 
 
 Vain were they to win the pity 
 Of the powers who had decreed 
 That Troy must fall, as fall she did. 
 But I, who weep for her, myself must bleed. 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Antistrophe x. 
 
 E en as thy first lament, these others tend. 1215 
 
 For some dread demon on thy soul 
 Weighs awful, and compels thy tuneful throat 
 To chant death-songs of fellest note. 
 But I see not to the end. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 And yet the prophecy no longer peers, 1220 
 
 As a young bride, through veils, half-seen and shy ; 
 But as a fresh blast brightening to the beams 
 Of the new-risen day, it soon shall sweep, 
 Like a billow, into sunshine, stronger far 
 Than this strong horror. I will speak no more 1225 
 In riddles ; and bear witness ye how sure 
 I scent the footsteps of ancestral sin. 
 For never shall that band desert this roof, 
 Chanting in hideous harmony their strains 
 Ill-omened. For enow to make them bold 1230 
 
 Of human gore have they quaffed, that still they sit, 
 Hard to eject, revelling the house within, 
 
132 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Its kindred furies ; hymning now the hymn 
 
 Of that original guilt, and now the bed, 
 
 By a brother s sin defiled, thereafter made 1335 
 
 His punishment accusing. Have I erred ? 
 
 Or have I shot my shaft as an archer true ? 
 
 Or am I a false prophet, vending lies 
 
 From door to door ? Bear witness with an oath 
 
 That I do know the house, and its sin of old. 1340 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What should an oath, a nobly-plighted pledge, 
 Avail or aid thee? But much marvel I 
 How, bred beyond the seas, thou so canst tell 
 The secretest sins of this a foreign town. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 The seer Apollo gave me this to see. 1245 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Did thy charms so enchant the Deity ? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 This to confess ere while I was ashamed. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 By happiness we are oft too finely framed. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 He breathed most passionate love-suits from his breast. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Didst grant the suit he sought, and make him blest ? 3250 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 I promised, but deceived the God at last. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 133 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hadst thou learned then the future to precast ? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Their fate to my townsmen I did all presage. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 And wert unpunished by the Loxian s rage? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 No one believed me, since I so did sin. 12 55 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Yet I believe the truth thy words is in. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Ho ! ho ! New misery ! new woe ! 
 Again the labor-pangs of the prophet birth 
 Rack with their whirling preludes my poor soul! 
 See ye those children, seated on the roof, 1260 
 
 Young children, shadowy as the dreams of night ? 
 They are plain to see, as infants foully slain 
 By who should love them, holding in their hands 
 Most horrible food, most pitiful, the flesh 
 Of their own entrails, which their own sire ate. 1265 
 From these I do predict, that, in his bed 
 Wallowing, watching his return at home, 
 Some coward lion plots revenge and death 
 Against my lord, - for I the yoke must bear. 
 And little knows he who the great host led, 1270 
 
 And overthrew Ilion, what the tongue accursed 
 Of that she-dog detested, fawning soft, 
 
 1-2 
 
134 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 And breathing blandishment, like fate unseen, 
 
 In an ill day shall do ; so bold is she. 
 
 The female is the murderess of her mate. 1275 
 
 What hateful monster calling her, shall I 
 
 Call her aright ? the Amphisbaina dire, 
 
 Or Skylla, dwelling in the cave o the rock, 
 
 The mariner s bane, the raging dam of hell, 
 
 Outbreathing war to her friends, no truce to be ? 1280 
 
 Thus let her shout, all-daring, as the hour 
 
 Of victory is here, and seem to hail 
 
 His safe return. Believe me not, what then ? 
 
 What shall be shall be. And ere long must ye, 
 
 Who pity me now, the truth of these things see. 1285 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thyestes banquet on his children s flesh 
 I understood, and shuddered. Horrible fear 
 Holds me, the while these awful truths I hear. 
 The rest escaped my mind, though it pierced my ear. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 I tell thee, thou shalt see Agamemnon s death. 1290 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Hold ! hold ! unhappy wretch, that ominous breath. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 There is no saving God, to avert my say. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Not if it stand ; but may it fall, I pray. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Pray thou, their care it is how best to slay. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 135 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Upon whose head shall dread doom alight ? 1295 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Of a truth, ye read my warnings all unright. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 True. For I see not who the doom shall wreak. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Yet the Greek tongue I know, in which I speak. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Dark are the Pythian oracles, and Greek. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Ye Gods ! how fierce a fire invades my soul ! 1300 
 
 Spare me, Lycean Apollo, spare ! Alas ! 
 She, the two-footed lioness, who lay 
 With the foul wolf, the lordly lion afar, 
 Shall slay me, wretched me ; and the death-draught 
 Of vengeance brewing in the cup shall pour 1305 
 
 My coming, as a drop of wrath. Even now 
 Sharpening the blade against her lord, she boasts 
 That slaughter shall repay my bringing home. 
 Why do I still these mockeries retain, 
 This sceptre, and these wreaths my neck around 1310 
 Oracular ? Thee I break, my death before ! 
 And ye, hence to perdition! I shall follow. 
 Endow some other with your curse, not me. 
 And lo! Apollo strippeth me himself 
 Of this prophetic vesture, seeing me 1315 
 
 Mocked oft in these adornments, friends among, 
 
136 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 And of my foes scorned openly, in vain. 
 
 Thus, to be called a stroller, beggar s wench, 
 
 Myself a beggar, a wretch famine-clung, 
 
 I have endured. And now the prophet s God, 1320 
 
 Having undone me too a prophetess, 
 
 Hath driven me into these toils of death. 
 
 And, for ancestral altar, the grim block 
 
 Awaits me, with hot gory sacrifice. 
 
 Yet not dishonored of the Gods shall I die ; 1335 
 
 For an avenger shall arise hereafter, 
 
 A matricidal scion, a father s blood 
 
 Requiting; when the exiled outcast home 
 
 Shall rush, to put the cope-stone on the curse. 
 
 For a great oath by the Gods is sworn above, 1330 
 
 That his dying father s fall shall bring him back, 
 
 With vengeance in his hand. Why, then, should I, 
 
 A sojourner only, sorrow, who have seen 
 
 Troy faring as she fared, and who took her 
 
 Now perishing by the judgment of the Gods ? 1335 
 
 Now I will enter. I will dare to die. 
 
 But first these gates of Hades I address, 
 
 Praying that I may meet one sure short blow, 
 
 That unconvulsed, and with a gush of gore 
 
 Easily flowing, I may sink asleep. 1340 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 most unhappy, most wise of thy sex, 
 Long hast thou spoken, and if spoken sooth, 
 
AGAMEMNON. 137 
 
 Seeing thy doom, wherefore so daring tread, 
 Like victim to the altar divine of God? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Strangers, fate is not cheated by delay. 1345 
 
 CHORUS. 
 And yet delay is best, to the latest day. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Come the day must. Little it boots to fly. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Patient, be sure, thou art, and of courage high. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 To have died nobly well beseems the dead. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 None hear, who happy are, such maxims dread. 1350 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Woe for thee, father, and thy noble race ! 
 
 She is about to enter the palace, but falters, and shrinks back in horror. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 "What gives thee pause ? What terror pales thy face ? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Alas ! Ay me ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Wherefore alas ? What horror now dost see ? 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 The palace reeks with the scent of gory death. 1355 
 
 CHORUS. 
 And how? I taste the altar s fumy breath. 
 
 12* 
 
138 AGAMEMNON". 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 Like to the charnel blasts o the loathly grave. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Thou speakest not of the Syrian incense brave. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 I go this hour within, my fate to wail, 
 And Agamemnon s. So of life enow ! 1360 
 
 In idle fear I shrink not, as the bird 
 On wing for the brake. This, witness for me dead, 
 When, for my woman s blood, a woman dies, 
 And, for a man cursed in his wife, a man. 
 This prophecy I leave you, my death-gift. 1365 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Poor wretch ! I pity thee thy fate foreseen. 
 
 KASSANDRA. 
 
 Once more my parting speech, my dirge of death, 
 I would myself repeat. Therefore, thou sun, 
 Upgazing at thy light for this last time, 
 I do implore thee that mine enemies 1370 
 
 May rue my murder, at the avenger s hand 
 Suffering the like, even as I a slave 
 Perish, subdued right easily. Alas 
 For poor humanity! A passing shade, 
 If prosperous, destroys it ; a wet sponge 1375 
 
 Abolishes the picture at a stroke, 
 If adverse. This it is I most deplore. 
 
 KASSANDRA rushes into the palace to encounter her fate. The doors close 
 behind, and the stage is left unoccupied for the second time, except by the 
 CHORUS. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 139 
 
 Scene as before. The CHORUS alone, before the palace-gates. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ever insatiate and uncontent 
 Of bliss are men ; nor e er is it said 
 By the dwellers of happiest homes, " Enough ! 1330 
 
 Pass by the doors, and farther fare," 
 When fortune would enter in. 
 To our king it was given the city to win 
 Of Priam the great, 
 
 And he hath come home in victorious state. 1335 
 
 But now if the blood he hath shed of old 
 Atoned must be, that he must die 
 The death of others to wipe away, 
 And the debt of fate by his doom repay, 
 Who would rejoice, that hears this told, 1390 
 
 To be born unto destinies high ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON (within). 
 Ho! I am stricken with a mortal stroke! 
 
 FIRST CHOREUTES. 
 Peace ! Of one struck to the death I hear the cry. 
 
 AGAMEMNON (within). 
 What ho! again! twice stricken, that I die. 
 
 SECOND CHOREUTES. 
 By the king s wail, the deed is done, I wot. 1395 
 
 THIRD CHOREUTES. 
 Sure counsel take we then, that we err not. 
 
 FOURTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 Listen to me, my friends ; I thus advise : 
 Cry we the citizens with aid to rise. 
 
140 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 FIFTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 I rather counsel on, ourselves, to set, 
 And seize the slayers while their swords are wet. 1400 
 
 SIXTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 This latter counsel I will not gainsay, 
 But vote to do. Time is not for delay. 
 
 SEVENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 Behooves us much observe ; what these now do 
 Portends tyrannic rule the kingdom through. 
 
 EIGHTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 We loiter ; they act, casting doubt aside, 1405 
 
 With swiftest hands what surest thoughts decide. 
 
 NINTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 I know not which opinion best to choose. 
 Who acts, deliberation first should use. 
 
 TENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 With thee I doubt. Lies not within my ken 
 How to recall the dead to life again. 1410 
 
 ELEVENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 Shall we, then, yield us to the sway life-long 
 Of who the house have filled with foulest wrong ? 
 
 TWELFTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 This may not be. Rather I choose to die ; 
 For better death than deathful tyranny. 
 THIRTEENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 Must we then judge, from outcries scarce heard plain, 1415 
 That Agamemnon certainly is slain ? 
 
AGAMEMNON. 141 
 
 FOURTEENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 Befits who hath sure knowledge this to show. 
 T is one thing to conjecture, one to know. 
 
 FIFTEENTH CHOREUTES. 
 
 This, therefore, I adjudge the wisest plan, 
 To learn at once his fate, as learn we can. 1420 
 
 The scene here changes suddenly, the whole front of the palace being withdrawn 
 by machinery, so as to display the interior; for it is to be understood that the 
 CHORUS, having completed their deliberations, force their way in at the gates, 
 and are now within the palace. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA is discovered, standing near the silver laver, with the bloody 
 axe in her hand; the bodies of AGAMEMNON, entangled in the sleeveless robe, 
 and of KASSANDRA at her feet. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Much having said before to suit the time, 
 I shame not now plain the reverse to speak; 
 For who, that a foe would smite, presumed a friend, 
 Could pitch the toils of fate, prepared before, 
 So not to be overleaped, if he did not so ? 1425 
 
 Of ancient strife conceived, and plotted long, 
 This conflict I adventured, now complete 
 In time s completion. Where I stuck I stand, 
 And what is done is done. T was I, even I, 
 The deed who did, nor will that deed deny, 1430 
 
 That he his doom should neither fight nor fly. 
 With toils inextricable hemmed about 
 Of fatal garments rich, like a fish i the net, 
 I smote him twice, that with two death-groans deep 
 His nerveless limbs relaxed ; whereat, I smote 1435 
 
 Yet a third time the fallen, a last blow. 
 
142 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 A votive gift to the saviour of the dead, 
 
 The subterranean Hades. Thus he fell, 
 
 Thus gasped his life away, and, snorting forth 
 
 Sharp-gushing blood-gouts, with the gory dew 1440 
 
 Of that black death-shower smote me, nothing loath, 
 
 Nor less rejoicing in its tepid flow 
 
 Than the glebe joys at heaven s prolific rains 
 
 What time the flowers are born. Now, Argives old, 
 
 Rejoice at these things, if rejoice ye may, 1445 
 
 Which I exult to have done. But if it were meet 
 
 To pour libations on a corpse, t were done 
 
 Bight justly ; for most just it is that he 
 
 Who filled the cup of curses to the brink 
 
 For all his house himself the cup should drink. 1450 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I marvel at thy tongue so badly bold 
 O er thine own lord such boastful speech to hold. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Ye try me as a woman, light and vain. 
 But from a soul undaunted to who know 
 Speak I. Praise ye, or blame, alike to me. 1455 
 
 There Agamemnon lies, my wedded lord, 
 The slain of this right hand, most righteous deed 
 Of righteous doer. This is that ye see. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 Woman, what horrid thing, 
 Or esculent of earth, 1460 
 
AGAMEMNON. 143 
 
 Or potion from the flowing sea, 
 
 Hast tasted, on thyself to bring 
 
 This scent of sacrifice and popular curse ? 
 
 Stricken thou hast, and cleft with the sword, 
 
 And so exiled shall be, 1465 
 
 Wretch, by the state abhorred. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTIIA. 
 
 Exile to me, to me the citizens hate, 
 And popular curses, well dost thou proclaim, 
 Like sentence upon him who now lies there 
 Proclaiming, who regarded not the life 1470 
 
 Of his own child a slaughtered sheep s before, 
 Though flocks abounded in his fleecy folds, 
 But slew her, dearest labor of my womb, 
 A charm the Thracian tempests to allay. 
 And must thou not him too expel the land 1475 
 
 Redeeming such pollution ? 0, not thou ! 
 Who judgest, on the hearing of my deeds, 
 Most sternly. But I tell thee, what I look 
 To bear from thee if victor, with that same 
 I threat thee, for if God grant it not so, 1480 
 
 Taught wisdom shalt thou be, though late, by woe. 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe. 
 
 In counsel great thou art, 
 
 And haughty is thy speech. 
 
 Such dark and bloody doing 
 
 Hath frenzy-struck thy heart, 1485 
 
144 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 And in thine eyes the hue of gore is seen. 
 Thou, therefore, too shalt bleed, 
 In friendless anguish ruing 
 This foul and felon deed. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Thou hearest the solemn import of mine oath. 1490 
 
 For by the perfect vengeance of my child, 
 Ate, and Erinnys, I swear, to whom this man 
 I sacrificed, the house of fear to tread 
 I look not, while Aigisthos on my hearth 
 Kindles the sacred flames, still as of old 1495 
 
 To me most friendly; for I hold his love 
 A shield of no small daring to my soul. 
 He who disgraced my woman heart lies there, 
 The darling joy of the Chrysei des 
 
 Ilion before, and she the spear-won, she 1500 
 
 His star-gazer and bedmate, she his seer 
 Who slept so faithful in his arms, and sate 
 Beside him on the rower s bench. Nor so 
 Unmeetly have they fared. For his own deeds 
 Fell he. And she, his sweetheart, by his side, 1505 
 When swan-like she had sung her last sad strain, 
 Sleeps as her wont, and by that bed of death 
 Adds to my present pleasure boundless bliss. 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 
 Strophe i. 
 
 Alas ! I would some swift and sudden fate 
 Upon my soul eternal sleep would throw, 1510 
 
AGAMEMNON. 145 
 
 Unvisited by death-bed pain, 
 
 Nor lingering late; 
 
 Since I have seen my sovereign slain, 
 
 So good, so gallant, and so great, 
 
 Who for a woman bore such woe 1515 
 
 Upon a foreign plain, 
 
 To fall beneath a woman s coward blow ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe n. 
 
 Woe ! Frantic Helen, woe ! 
 
 Who singly hast cut short 
 
 So many, yea ! so many a mortal life 1520 
 
 On the Trojan plain ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe in. 
 
 Who now hast brought from bud to bloom, 
 By this inexpiable gore 
 Perfected here, 
 
 That oft-renewed and memorable strife, 1525 
 
 Which to the house was doomed of yore, 
 Its master s bane. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Strophe iv. 
 
 Pray not now for the death-dealing blow, 
 Bewailing this that is done ; 
 
 Nor cast upon Helene all the guilt 1530 
 
 Of the heroes slain, and the life-blood spilt, 
 As if she had brought this endless woe 
 
 ]3 
 
146 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 On the Danaans, sole cause of ill, 
 And man-murderess only she. 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 
 Antistrophe i. 
 
 Thou dreadful Daimon, that dost smite so sore 1535 
 
 The twofold house of the Tantalidas, 
 
 Steeling each woman s heart and hand 
 
 With mettle male, 
 
 That they the manliest parts have planned, 
 
 Causing my heart with grief to fail, 1540 
 
 Like the night-crow thou seemest to me 
 
 Perched on the corse to stand, 
 
 The death-hymn croaking with unearthly glee. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe n. 
 
 [ This and the following are loth lost from" the text.] 
 ***** 
 
 Antistrophe in. 
 
 ***** 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Antistrophe iv. 
 
 Now thou wordest thy judgment well, 
 
 Proclaiming the Daimon dread 1545 
 
 Who has worked to the house such woe of yore ; 
 
 For by him is the blood-lapping thirst of gore 
 
 Implanted, for aye in their souls to dwell. 
 
 From ancient anguish comes slaughter new, 
 
 This ere that has passed away. 1550 
 
AGAMEMNON. 
 
 147 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 Strophe v. 
 
 Truly thou namest the Daimon dire 
 
 And hostile to the house ; 
 
 Woe ! woe ! an awful name, 
 
 Full of destructive sin insatiate, 
 
 And that through Zeus, who planneth all 1555 
 
 And bringeth all to pass. 
 
 For what to man can e er befall 
 
 Unless by Zeus ? or what of this, now done, 
 
 Not done by the God s decree? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe vi. 
 
 Alas! alas! 
 
 How shall I mourn thee, my king, my king, 
 How shall I give my affection tongue, 
 In the spider s web thus looking on thee, 
 Entangled and gasping out thy breath 
 By a fate so foul to see. 1565 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 Strophe vn. 
 
 For the slavish bed, alas and ! 
 On which thou art laid in death ; 
 Smitten down by a treacherous hand, 
 And a two-edged axe s blow. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Strophe vm. 
 
 Thou sayest that this is all my deed, 1570 
 
 Nor hast it in thy mind 
 
148 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 That of Agamemnon I was the wife, 
 
 And that he, the awful avenger old, 
 
 Likening himself to the spouse of the slain, 
 
 The requiter of Atreus, that banqueter dread, 1575 
 
 On this one s head hath avenged the sin 
 
 By the sacrifice of a full-grown man 
 
 To the spirits of the joung. 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 Antistrophe v. 
 
 Who shall avouch thee unstained of blood, 
 
 And guiltless of this crime ? 1580 
 
 Whence, whence shall proof be brought ? 
 
 For his father s sin, some stern avenging God 
 
 Perchance it is who smote him sore. 
 
 Black Ares ramps sublime 
 
 In kindred streams of crimson hue, 1585 
 
 Whence, rushing onward, vengeance he shall take 
 
 For the children s clotted gore. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Antistrophe vi. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! 
 
 How shall I mourn thee, my king, my king, 
 
 How shall I give my affection tongue, 1590 
 
 In the spider s web thus looking on thee r 
 
 Entangled and gasping out thy breath 
 
 By a fate so foul to see ? 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 Antistrophe vn. 
 
 For the slavish bed, alas and ! 
 
AGAMEMNON. 149 
 
 On which thou art laid in death ; 1595 
 
 Smitten down by a treacherous hand, 
 And a two-edged axe s blow. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Antistrophe vm. 
 
 Not an unworthy or slavish death 
 
 Has taken him, I ween. 
 
 For did he not also, his house within, 1600 
 
 Strike a savage and treacherous blow ? 
 
 And, cruelly slaying my fairest flower, 
 
 My Iphigeneia the much bewept, 
 
 Justly hath suffered. Nor hath he to boast 
 
 In the halls of Hades, for he hath been slain 1605 
 
 By the steel, even as he slew. 
 
 SEMICHORTJS. 
 Strophe ix. 
 
 Almost of mind bereft, 
 
 No thought have I at hand 
 
 Whither to flee when the house shall fall. 
 
 For the pattering I dread of the bloody shower 1610 
 
 Which the house shall o erthrow. For in gouts no more, 
 
 But in torrents, it dashes. The hand of Fate 
 
 Is setting on whetstones the vengeful brand, 
 
 And on other whetstones Justice too, 
 
 Unto other deeds of predestined hate. 1615 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe x. 
 
 Earth! Earth! 
 
 13* 
 
150 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 I would in thy breast thou hadst hidden my head, 
 
 Or ere I had seen my noble king 
 
 In the silver bath lie dead. 
 
 Who shall entomb him ? his dirge who sing ? 1620 
 
 "Wilt thou be so bold, 
 
 Thy lord who slewest, 
 
 To weep and wail o er his ashes cold, 
 
 Unjustly to render a service of love, 
 
 A service unwelcome, as if to atone 1625 
 
 The great crime thou hast done ? 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 
 Strophe xi. 
 
 Who the funeral burst of worthiest praise, 
 Pointing the godlike man with tears, 
 In truth of soul shall raise ? 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Strophe XH. 
 
 Thee it becomes not to speak of this care. 1630 
 
 By my hand he fell, 
 
 By my hand he perished, and I who did slay 
 
 Will lay him to sleep in his tomb, unwept 
 
 By the tears of his household, who mourn him not. 
 
 But Iphigeneia, his daughter fair, 1635 
 
 Shall joyfully meet him, as well beseems, 
 
 At the swift-flowing ferry of sorrows, and throw 
 
 Her arms round the neck of her father dear, 
 
 And greet him with a kiss. 
 
AGAMEMNON. 151 
 
 SEMICHORUS. 
 Antistrophe ix. 
 
 Out of disgrace, disgrace 1640 
 
 Hath come to pass. But hard 
 
 It is to judge of this wretched strife. 
 
 For evil of old bringeth evil new, 
 
 And the slayer his deed must repay with his life. 
 
 For the doer must suffer his deed s reward, 1545 
 
 In the time that awaiteth the waiting of Zeus. 
 
 And who from his house can expel the race 
 
 Of curses attached to his line by fate ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Antistrophe x. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Antistrophe xi. 
 
 ***** 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 Antistrophe xn. 
 
 With truth hast thou come to this oracle clear ; 
 
 And therefore I choose, 1650 
 
 With the Daimon dread of the Pleisthenidae 
 
 A truce having sw^orn, to abide content 
 
 With the past, though hard to abide ; but now, 
 
 That he shall abandon our house, to plague 
 
 With avenging slaughters some other race. 1655 
 
 For, holding a part of the house s wealth 
 
 And allaying its mutual-murderous rage, 
 
 No more of state I crave. 
 
152 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Enter AiGiSTHOS//wtt the palace, with a band of armed followers. 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 blessed light of this avenging day ! 
 
 Now can I say the unforgetting Gods 1660 
 
 From their supernal height the woes regard 
 
 Of men, beholding him i the woven robes 
 
 Of the Erinnyes outstretched, a sight 
 
 Most glad, atoning thus his father s deed, 
 
 Done long ago. His father monarch then, 1665 
 
 Atreus, in Argos here, after debate 
 
 For sovereignty and sway, Thyestes drave, 
 
 My father, his own brother sooth to say, 
 
 From home and country. But the sad exile, 
 
 Returning suppliant to the hearth, received 1670 
 
 Safety and life, that he defiled not 
 
 Himself his native soil with his mortal gore. 
 
 But Atreus, the ungodly sire of who 
 
 Lies there, at the guest-board as a feast of faith 
 
 Fiercely not friendly set my sire before, 1675 
 
 When most he seemed the festive day to urge 
 
 In banqueting, his murdered children s flesh. 
 
 Himself apart, sitting aloft the deas, 
 
 Severed the feet and fingers from the trunk, 
 
 That so, not marking what he ate, he ate 1680 
 
 A meal accursed, and ruinous to the race, 
 
 As ye behold it now. But when he knew 
 
 The horror, he howled out, and backward fell, 
 
 Sick, from the feast of slaughter ; nor did not 
 
AGAMEMNON. 153 
 
 Most justly link that violated board 1685 
 
 With imprecated death to one and all 
 
 The proud Pelopidse, that so might perish 
 
 The race entire of Pleisthenes. By these, 
 
 By these, ye see him, whom ye see, so fallen, 
 
 And I it is who this his slaughter planned, 1690 
 
 Most justly. For me, yet a weanling child, 
 
 With others twelve, my brethren, forth he drave, 
 
 And him my woful father. But this day 
 
 Justice hath brought me back full-grown, a man. 
 
 And, though afar, I smote him, even I, 1695 
 
 For mine the plot, the counsel only mine. 
 
 Happy therefore and proud to fall were I, 
 
 Who have beheld my foe so basely die. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Aigisthos, most the coward s brag I scorn. 
 Thyself, thou boastest to have slain this man 1700 
 Aforethought, and alone to have devised 
 This pitiful murder. Therefore thou, I say, 
 Nor popular doom nor stoning shalt escape. 
 
 AIGISTHOS. 
 
 Thou, sitting at the lowest oar, sayest this, 
 When they who row above command the ship. 1705 
 
 Soon shalt thou know, being old, how hard it is 
 For such to learn, when ordered, wise to be. 
 But fetters and sharp hunger s pinching pain 
 Wondrous mind-curers are the old to teach, 
 Prophetical. Seeing this, wilt not see ? 1710 
 
 Kick not against the spur, or spurred shalt be. 
 
154 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Woman, hast thou, who shouldst have kept the house 
 For those late come from war, his bed defiled, 
 And planned this murder for thy warrior lord ? 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 Such words as these of tears the prelude are. 1715 
 
 The tongue of Orpheus was most unlike thine ; 
 He all things captive led by his joyous strain. 
 Thou, having angered all by yelpings vain, 
 Captive thyself, reverence shalt learn through pain. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And dost thou think in Argos to be king, 1720 
 
 Who, when thou hadst the hero s slaughter planned, 
 Daredst not to do it with thine own right hand ? 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 Sure was it that his wife could him deceive, 
 
 When me he held suspect of old his foe. 
 
 But by his treasures here his realm to rule 1725 
 
 Straight I address me. Who obeys not, he, 
 
 Even as a bean-fed colt that draws not true, 
 
 The yoke shall feel right sore. Darkness combined 
 
 With hateful hunger soon shall see him kind. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Wherefore, villain of a coward soul, 1730 
 
 Not slay the man thyself, but she, the wife, 
 Pollution of the country and country s Gods, 
 Slew him ? 0, lives there not, somewhere on earth, 
 Orestes, who, returning, both shall slay, 
 A great avenger, on a happy day ? 1735 
 
AGAMEMNON. 155 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 If so wilt speak, so do, ere long shalt better know. 
 Ready, be ready, friends. It comes, the expected blow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 So be it. One and all, on every hilt a hand ! 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 To die refuse I not, but draw the deadly brand. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 We would have thee die ; so hail thy words, that death 
 
 foreshow. 1740 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 No more, beloved of men, no more work we of woe ! 
 To reap this harvest hath enough, more than enough, of 
 
 guilt. 
 
 Horror abounds. Then, 0, let no more blood be spilt ! 
 And ye, old men, to his appointed house each one 
 Away, ere aught of ill be suffered or be done. 1745 
 What we have wrought was fate. But if enough can be 
 Of woes and sufferings such as these, enough have we, 
 We whom the Daimon s heavy wrath so sore hath strook. 
 These be a woman s words. Who deigns learn, to them 
 
 look. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Not for the Greeks it is a coward to revere. 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 I shall some time be there, that ye at least shall fear. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Not if the Daimon bring Orestes home again . 
 
156 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 I know that exiles feed on fleeting hopes and vain. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Sin ! revel in your sin ! mock justice while ye may. 
 
 AlGISTHOS. 
 
 This foolery, be sure, right dearly shall ye pay. 1755 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Crow cheerful, like the cock by his hen at break of day. 
 
 KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
 
 Heed thou their yelpings not. For I and thou will choose 
 The palace how to order best, as monarchs use. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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