_Watchman_
CLYTÆMNESTRA
AGAMEMNON
_Chorus of Argive Elders_
_Herald_ (TALTHYBIOS)
CASSANDRA
ÆGISTHOS
_ARGUMENT.—Ten years had passed since Agamemnon, son of Atreus, king of
Mykenæ, had led the Hellenes to Troïa to take vengeance on Alexandros
(also known as Paris), son of Priam. For Paris had basely wronged
Menelaos, king of Sparta, Agamemnon's brother, in that, being received
by him as a guest, he enticed his wife Helena to leave her lord and go
with him to Troïa. And now the tenth year had come, and Paris was slain,
and the city of the Troïans was taken and destroyed, and Agamemnon and
the Hellenes were on their way homeward with the spoil and prisoners
they had taken. But meanwhile Clytæmnestra too, Agamemnon's queen, had
been unfaithful, and had taken as her paramour Ægisthos, son of that
Thyestes whom Atreus, his brother, had made to eat, unknowing, of the
flesh of his own children. And now, partly led by her adulterer, and
partly seeking to avenge the death of her daughter Iphigeneia, whom
Agamemnon had sacrificed to appease the wrath of Artemis, and partly
also jealous because he was bringing back Cassandra, the daughter of
Priam, as his concubine, she plotted with Ægisthos against her husband's
life. But this was done secretly, and she stationed a guard on the roof
of the royal palace to give notice when he saw the beacon-fires, by
which Agamemnon had promised that he would send tidings that Troïa was
taken._
_Note._—The unfaithfulness of Clytæmnestra and the murder of Agamemnon
had entered into the Homeric cycle of the legends of the house of
Atreus. In the _Odyssey_, however, Ægisthos is the chief agent in this
crime (_Odyss._ iii. 264, iv. 91, 532, xi. 409); and the manner of it
differs from that which Æschylos has adopted. Clytæmnestra first appears
as slaying both her husband and Cassandra in Pindar (_Pyth._ xi. 26).
SCENE.—Argos. _The Palace of_ AGAMEMNON; _statues of the Gods
in front. Watchman on the roof. Time, night._
_Watchman._ I ask the Gods a respite from these toils,
This keeping at my post the whole year round,
Wherein, upon the Atreidæ's roof reclined,
Like dog, upon my elbow, I have learnt
To know night's goodly company of stars,
And those bright lords that deck the firmament,
And winter bring to men, and harvest-tide;
[The rising and the setting of the stars.]
And now I watch for sign of beacon-torch,
The flash of fire that bringeth news from Troïa,
And tidings of its capture. So prevails
*A woman's manly-purposed, hoping heart; 10
And when I keep my bed of little ease,
Drenched with the dew, unvisited by dreams,
(For fear, instead of sleep, my comrade is,
So that in sound sleep ne'er I close mine eyes,)
And when I think to sing a tune, or hum,
(My medicine of song to ward off sleep,)
Then weep I, wailing for this house's chance,
No more, as erst, right well administered.
Well! may I now find blest release from toils, 20
When fire from out the dark brings tidings good.
[_Pauses, then springs up suddenly, seeing a
light in the distance_
Hail! thou torch-bearer of the night, that shedd'st
Light as of morn, and bringest full array
Of many choral bands in Argos met,
Because of this success. Hurrah! hurrah!
So clearly tell I Agamemnon's queen,
With all speed rising from her couch to raise
Shrill cry of triumph o'er this beacon-fire
Throughout the house, since Ilion's citadel
Is taken, as full well that bright blaze shows. 30
I, for my part, will dance my prelude now;
[_Leaps and dances_
For I shall score my lord's new turn of luck,
This beacon-blaze may throw of triple six.[271]
Well, would that I with this mine hand may touch
The dear hand of our king when he comes home!
As to all else, the word is “Hush!” An ox[272]
Rests on my tongue; had the house a voice
'Twould tell too clear a tale. I'm fain to speak
To those who know, forget with those who know not.
[_Exit_
_Enter Chorus of twelve Argive elders, chanting as they march to take
up their position in the centre of the stage. A procession of
women bearing torches is seen in the distance_
Lo! the tenth year now is passing 40
Since, of Priam great avengers,
Menelaos, Agamemnon,
Double-throned and doubled-sceptred,
Power from sovran Zeus deriving—
Mighty pair of the Atreidæ—
Raised a fleet of thousand vessels
Of the Argives from our country,
Potent helpers in their warfare,
Shouting cry of Ares fiercely;
E'en as vultures shriek who hover,
Wheeling, whirling o'er their eyrie, 50
In wild sorrow for their nestlings,
With their oars of stout wings rowing,
Having lost the toil that bound them
To their callow fledglings' couches.
But on high One,—or Apollo,
Zeus, or Pan,—the shrill cry hearing,
Cry of birds that are his clients,[273]
Sendeth forth on men transgressing,
Erinnys, slow but sure avenger;
So against young Alexandros[274]
Atreus' sons the great King sendeth,
Zeus, of host and guest protector: 60
He, for bride with many a lover,
Will to Danai give and Troïans
Many conflicts, men's limbs straining,
When the knee in dust is crouching,
And the spear-shaft in the onset
Of the battle snaps asunder.
But as things are now, so are they,
So, as destined, shall the end be.
Nor by tears, nor yet libations
Shall he soothe the wrath unbending
Caused by sacred rites left fireless.[275] 70
We, with old frame little honoured,
Left behind that host are staying,
Resting strength that equals childhood's
On our staff: for in the bosom
*Of the boy, life's young sap rushing,
Is of old age but the equal;
Ares not as yet is found there:
And the man in age exceeding,
When the leaf is sere and withered,
Goes with three feet on his journey;[276] 80
Not more Ares-like than boyhood,
Like a day-seen dream he wanders.
[_Enter_ CLYTÆMNESTRA, _followed by the procession
of torch-bearers_
Thou, of Tyndareus the daughter,
Queen of Argos, Clytæmnestra,
What has happened? what news cometh?
What perceiving, on what tidings
Leaning, dost thou put in motion
All this solemn, great procession?
Of the Gods who guard the city,
Those above and those beneath us,
Of the heaven, and of the market, 90
Lo! with thy gifts blaze the altars;
And through all the expanse of Heaven,
Here and there, the torch-fire rises,
With the flowing, pure persuasion
Of the holy unguent nourished,
*And the chrism rich and kingly
From the treasure-store's recesses.
Telling what of this thou canst tell,
What is right for thee to utter,
Be a healer of my trouble,
Trouble now my soul disturbing, 100
*While anon fond hope displaying
Sacrificial signs propitious,
Wards off care that no rest knoweth,
Sorrow mind and heart corroding.
[_The Chorus, taking their places round the central
thymele, begin their song_[277]