Wanders about gone wild,
A dream in day.
But thou, Tundareus’ daughter, Klutaimnestra queen,
What need? What new? What having heard or seen,
By what announcement’s tidings, everywhere
Settest thou, round about, the sacrifice a-flare?
For, of all gods the city-swaying,
Those supernal, those infernal,
Those of the fields’, those of the mart’s obeying, —
The altars blaze with gifts;
And here and there, heaven-high the torch uplifts
Flame — medicated with persuasions mild,
With foul admixture unbeguiled —
Of holy unguent, from the clotted chrism
Brought from the palace, safe in its abysm.
Of these things, speaking what may be indeed
Both possible and lawful to concede,
Healer do thou become! — of this solicitude
Which, now, stands plainly forth of evil mood,
And, then . . . but from oblations, hope, to-day
Gracious appearing, wards away
From soul the insatiate care,
The sorrow at my breast, devouring there!
Empowered am I to sing
The omens, what their force which, journeying,
Rejoiced the potentates:
(For still, from God, inflates
My breast song-suasion: age,
Born to the business, still such war can wage)
— How the fierce bird against the Teukris land
Despatched, with spear and executing hand,
The Achaian’s two-throned empery — o’er Hellas’ youth
Two rulers with one mind:
The birds’ king to these kings of ships, on high,
— The black sort, and the sort that’s white behind, —
Appearing by the palace, on the spear-throw side,
In right sky-regions, visible far and wide, —
Devouring a hare-creature, great with young,
Baulked of more racings they, as she from whom they sprung!
Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!
But may the good prevail!
The prudent army-prophet seeing two
The Atreidai, two their tempers, knew
Those feasting on the hare
The armament-conductors were;
And thus he spoke, explaining signs in view.
“In time, this outset takes the town of Priamos:
But all before its towers, — the people’s wealth that was,
Of flocks and herds, — as sure, shall booty-sharing thence
Drain to the dregs away, by battle violence.
Only, have care lest grudge of any god disturb
With cloud the unsullied shine of that great force, the curb
Of Troia, struck with damp
Beforehand in the camp!
For envyingly is
The virgin Artemis
Toward — her father’s flying hounds — this House —
The sacrificers of the piteous
And cowering beast,
Brood and all, ere the birth: she hates the eagles’ feast.
Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!
But may the good prevail!
“Thus ready is the beauteous one with help
To those small dewdrop-things fierce lions whelp,
And udder-loving litter of each brute
That roams the mead; and therefore makes she suit,
The fair one, for fulfilment to the end
Of things these signs portend —
Which partly smile, indeed, but partly scowl —
The phantasms of the fowl.
I call Ieïos Paian to avert
She work the Danaoi hurt
By any thwarting waftures, long and fast
Holdings from sail of ships:
And sacrifice, another than the last,
She for herself precipitate —
Something unlawful, feast for no man’s lips,
Builder of quarrels, with the House cognate —
Having in awe no husband: for remains
A frightful, backward-darting in the path,
Wily house-keeping chronicler of wrath,
That has to punish that old children’s fate!”
Such things did Kalchas, — with abundant gains
As well, — vociferate,
Predictions from the birds, in journeying,
Above the abode of either king.
With these, symphonious, sing —
Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!
But may the good prevail!
Zeus, whosoe’er he be, — if that express
Aught dear to him on whom I call —
So do I him address.
I cannot liken out, by all
Admeasurement of powers,
Any but Zeus for refuge at such hours,
If veritably needs I must
From off my soul its vague care-burthen thrust.
Not — whosoever was the great of yore,
Bursting to bloom with bravery all round —
Is in our mouths: he was, but is no more.
And who it was that after came to be,
Met the thrice-throwing wrestler, — he
Is also gone to ground.
But “Zeus” — if any, heart and soul, that name —
Shouting the triumph-praise — proclaim,
Complete in judgment shall that man be found.
Zeus, who leads onward mortals to be wise,
Appoints that suffering masterfully teach.
In sleep, before the heart of each,
A woe-remembering travail sheds in dew
Discretion, — ay, and melts the unwilling too
By what, perchance, may be a graciousness
Of gods, enforced no less, —
As they, commanders of the crew,
Assume the awful seat.
And then the old leader of the Achaian fleet,
Disparaging no seer —
With bated breath to suit misfortune’s inrush here
— (What time it laboured, that Achaian host,
By stay from sailing, — every pulse at length
Emptied of vital strength, —
Hard over Kalchis shore-bound, current-crost
In Aulis station, — while the winds which post
From Strumon, ill-delayers, famine-fraught,
Tempters of man to sail where harbourage is naught,
Spendthrifts of ships and cables, turning time
To twice the length, — these carded, by delay,
To less and less away
The Argeians’ flowery prime:
And when a remedy more grave and grand
Than aught before, — yea, for the storm and dearth, —
The prophet to the foremost in command
Shrieked forth, as cause of this
Adducing Artemis,
So that the Atreidai striking staves on earth
Could not withhold the tear) —
Then did the king, the elder, speak this clear.
“Heavy the fate, indeed, — to disobey!
Yet heavy if my child I slay,
The adornment of my household: with the tide
Of virgin-slaughter, at the altar-side,
A father’s hands defiling: which the way
Without its evils, say?
How shall I turn fleet-fugitive,
Failing of duty to allies?
Since for a wind-abating sacrifice
And virgin blood, — ’t is right they strive,
Nay, madden with desire.
Well may it work them — this that they require!”
But when he underwent necessity’s
Yoke-trace, — from soul blowing unhallowed change
Unclean, abominable, — thence — another man —
The audacious mind of him began
> Its wildest range.
For this it is gives mortals hardihood —
Some vice-devising miserable mood
Of madness, and first woe of all the brood.
The sacrificer of his daughter — strange! —
He dared become, to expedite
Woman-avenging warfare, — anchors weighed
With such prelusive rite!
Prayings and callings “Father” — naught they made
Of these, and of the virgin-age, —
Captains heart-set on war to wage!
His ministrants, vows done, the father bade —
Kid-like, above the altar, swathed in pall,
Take her — lift high, and have no fear at all,
Head-downward, and the fair mouth’s guard
And frontage hold, — press hard
From utterance a curse against the House
By dint of bit — violence bridling speech.
And as to ground her saffron-vest she shed,
She smote the sacrificers all and each
With arrow sweet and piteous,
From the eye only sped, —
Significant of will to use a word,
Just as in pictures: since, full many a time,
In her sire’s guest-hall, by the well-heaped board
Had she made music, — lovingly with chime
Of her chaste voice, that unpolluted thing,
Honoured the third libation, — paian that should bring
Good fortune to the sire she loved so well.
What followed — those things I nor saw nor tell.
But Kalchas’ arts, — whate’er they indicate, —
Miss of fulfilment never: it is fate.
True, justice makes, in sufferers, a desire
To know the future woe preponderate.
But — hear before is need?
To that, farewell and welcome! ‘t is the same, indeed,
As grief beforehand: clearly, part for part,
Conformably to Kalchas’ art,
Shall come the event.
But be they as they may, things subsequent, —
What is to do, prosperity betide
E’en as we wish it! — we, the next allied,
Sole guarding barrier of the Apian land.
I am come, reverencing power in thee,
O Klutaimnestra! For ‘t is just we bow
To the ruler’s wife, — the male-seat man-bereaved.
But if thou, having heard good news, — or none, —
For good news’ hope dost sacrifice thus wide,
I would hear gladly: art thou mute, — no grudge!
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Good-news-announcer, may — as is the by-word —
Morn become, truly, — news from Night his mother!
But thou shalt learn joy past all hope of hearing.
Priamos’ city have the Argeioi taken.
CHOROS.
How sayest? The word, from want of faith, escaped me.
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Troia the Achaioi hold: do I speak plainly?
CHOROS.
Joy overcreeps me, calling forth the tear-drop.
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Right! for, that glad thou art, thine eye convicts thee.
CHOROS.
For — what to thee, of all this, trusty token?
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
What’s here! how else? unless the god have cheated.
CHOROS.
Haply thou flattering shows of dreams respectest?
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
No fancy would I take of soul sleep-burthened.
CHOROS.
But has there puffed thee up some unwinged omen?
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
As a young maid’s my mind thou mockest grossly.
CHOROS.
Well, at what time was — even sacked, the city?
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Of this same mother Night — the dawn, I tell thee.
CHOROS.
And who of messengers could reach this swiftness?
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide.
Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster,
Hitherward: Ide to the rock Hermaian
Of Lemnos: and a third great torch o’ the island
Zeus’ seat received in turn, the Athoan summit.
And, — so upsoaring as to stride sea over,
The strong lamp-voyager, and all for joyance —
Did the gold-glorious splendour, any sun like,
Pass on — the pine-tree — to Makistos’ watch-place;
Who did not, — tardy, — caught, no wits about him,
By sleep, — decline his portion of the missive.
And far the beacon’s light, on stream Euripos
Arriving, made aware Messapios’ warders,
And up they lit in turn, played herald onwards,
Kindling with flame a heap of grey old heather.
And, strengthening still, the lamp, decaying nowise,
Springing o’er Plain Asopos, — full-moon-fashion
Effulgent, — toward the crag of Mount Kithairon,
Roused a new rendering-up of fire the escort —
And light, far escort, lacked no recognition
O’ the guard — as burning more than burnings told you.
And over Lake Gorgopis light went leaping,
And, at Mount Aigiplanktos safe arriving,
Enforced the law — ”to never stint the fire-stuff.”
And they send, lighting up with ungrudged vigour,
Of flame a huge beard, ay, the very foreland
So as to strike above, in burning onward,
The look-out which commands the Strait Saronic.
Then did it dart until it reached the outpost
Mount Arachnaios here, the city’s neighbour;
And then darts to this roof of the Atreidai
This light of Ide’s fire not unforefathered!
Such are the rules prescribed the flambeau-bearers:
He beats that’s first and also last in running.
Such is the proof and token I declare thee,
My husband having sent me news from Troia.
CHOROS.
The gods, indeed, anon will I pray, woman!
But now, these words to hear, and sate my wonder
Thoroughly, I am fain — if twice thou tell them.
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day.
I think a noise — no mixture — reigns i’ the city.
Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel —
Standers-apart, not lovers, wouldst thou style them:
And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise
The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.
For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate
Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents
— The old men, from a throat that’s free no longer,
Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:
While these — the after-battle hungry labour,
Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast
On the town’s store, according to no billet
Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.
In the spear-captured Troic habitations
House they already: from the frosts upæthral
And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,
Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.
And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders,
And the gods’ structures of the conquered country,
They may not — capturers — soon in turn be captive.
But see no prior lust befall the army
To sack things sacred — by gain-cravings vanquished!
For there needs homeward the return’s salvation,
To round the new limb back o’ the double race-course.
&nb
sp; And guilty to the gods if came the army,
Awakened up the sorrow of those slaughtered
Might be — should no outbursting evils happen.
But may good beat — no turn to see i’ the balance!
For, many benefits I want the gain of.
CHOROS.
Woman, like prudent man thou kindly speakest.
And I, thus having heard thy trusty tokens,
The gods to rightly hail forthwith prepare me;
For, grace that must be paid has crowned our labours.
O Zeus the king, and friendly Night
Of these brave boons bestower —
Thou who didst fling on Troia’s every tower
The o’er-roofing snare, that neither great thing might,
Nor any of the young ones, overpass
Captivity’s great sweep-net — one and all
Of Ate held in thrall!
Ay, Zeus I fear — the guest’s friend great — who was
The doer of this, and long since bent
The bow on Alexandros with intent
That neither wide o’ the white
Nor o’er the stars the foolish dart should light.
The stroke of Zeus — they have it, as men say!
This, at least, from the source track forth we may!
As he ordained, so has he done.
“No” — said someone —
“The gods think fit to care
Nowise for mortals, such
As those by whom the good and fair
Of things denied their touch
Is trampled!” but he was profane.
That they do care, has been made plain
To offspring of the over-bold,
Outbreathing “Ares” greater than is just —
Houses that spill with more than they can hold,
More than is best for man. Be man’s what must
Keep harm off, so that in himself he find
Sufficiency — the well-endowed of mind!
For there’s no bulwark in man’s wealth to him
Who, through a surfeit, kicks — into the dim
And disappearing — Right’s great altar.
Yes —
It urges him, the sad persuasiveness,
Ate’s insufferable child that schemes
Treason beforehand: and all cure is vain.
It is not hidden: out it glares again,
A light dread-lamping-mischief, just as gleams
The badness of the bronze;
Through rubbing, puttings to the touch,
Black-clotted is he, judged at once.
He seeks — the boy — a flying bird to clutch,
The insufferable brand
Setting upon the city of his land
Whereof not any god hears prayer;
While him who brought about such evils there,
That unjust man, the god in grapple throws.
Such an one, Paris goes
Within the Atreidai’s house —
Shamed the guest’s board by robbery of the spouse.
Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 303