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Chorus
Joy to you, Herald from the Achaean host!
Joy to you, Herald from the Achaean host!
Herald
I do rejoice. I will no longer refuse to die, if that pleases the gods.
I do rejoice. I will no longer refuse to die, if that pleases the gods.
Chorus
Was it yearning for this your fatherland that wore you out?
540
Was it yearning for this your fatherland that wore you out?
540
Herald
Yes, so that my eyes are filled with tears for joy.
Yes, so that my eyes are filled with tears for joy.
Chorus
It was then a pleasing malady from which you suffered.
It was then a pleasing malady from which you suffered.
Herald
How so? Teach me, and I shall master what you say.
How so? Teach me, and I shall master what you say.
Chorus
You were smitten with desire for those who returned your love.
You were smitten with desire for those who returned your love.
Herald
Do you mean that our land longed for the longing host?
545
Do you mean that our land longed for the longing host?
545
Chorus
Longed so, that often from a darkly brooding spirit I have sighed.
Longed so, that often from a darkly brooding spirit I have sighed.
Herald
Where did this gloom of melancholy upon your spirit come from?
Where did this gloom of melancholy upon your spirit come from?
Chorus
Long since have I found silence an antidote to harm.
Long since have I found silence an antidote to harm.
Herald
How so? Did you fear anyone when our princes were gone?
How so? Did you fear anyone when our princes were gone?
Chorus
In such fear that now, in your own words, even death would be great joy.
550
In such fear that now, in your own words, even death would be great joy.
550
Herald
Yes, all’s well, well ended. Yet, of what occurred in the long years, one might well say that part fell out happily, and part in turn amiss. But who, unless he is a god, is free from suffering all his days?
For were I to recount our hardships and our wretched quarters, the scanty space and the sorry berths——what did we not have to complain of . . .
1
Then again, ashore, there was still worse to loathe; for we had to lie down close to the enemy’s walls,
555
and the drizzling from the sky and the dews from the meadows distilled upon us, working constant destruction to our clothes and filling our hair with vermin. And if one were to tell of the wintry cold, past all enduring, when Ida’s snow slew the birds;
560
or of the heat, when upon his waveless noonday couch, windless the sea sank to sleep—but why should we bewail all this? Our labor’s past; past for the dead so that they will never care even to wake to life again.
565
Why should we count the number of the slain, or why should the living feel pain at their past harsh fortunes? Our misfortunes should, in my opinion, bid us a long farewell. For us, the remnant of the
Argive
host, the gain has the advantage and the loss does not bear down the scale;
570
so that, as we speed over land and sea, it is fitting that we on this bright day make this boast:
2
The
Argive
army, having taken
Troy
at last, has nailed up these spoils to be a glory for the gods throughout
Hellas
in their shrines from days of old.
575
Whoever hears the story of these deeds must extol the city and the leaders of her host; and the grace of Zeus that brought them to accomplishment shall receive its due measure of gratitude. There, you have heard all that I have to say.
580
Yes, all’s well, well ended. Yet, of what occurred in the long years, one might well say that part fell out happily, and part in turn amiss. But who, unless he is a god, is free from suffering all his days?
For were I to recount our hardships and our wretched quarters, the scanty space and the sorry berths——what did we not have to complain of . . .
1
Then again, ashore, there was still worse to loathe; for we had to lie down close to the enemy’s walls,
555
and the drizzling from the sky and the dews from the meadows distilled upon us, working constant destruction to our clothes and filling our hair with vermin. And if one were to tell of the wintry cold, past all enduring, when Ida’s snow slew the birds;
560
or of the heat, when upon his waveless noonday couch, windless the sea sank to sleep—but why should we bewail all this? Our labor’s past; past for the dead so that they will never care even to wake to life again.
565
Why should we count the number of the slain, or why should the living feel pain at their past harsh fortunes? Our misfortunes should, in my opinion, bid us a long farewell. For us, the remnant of the
Argive
host, the gain has the advantage and the loss does not bear down the scale;
570
so that, as we speed over land and sea, it is fitting that we on this bright day make this boast:
2
The
Argive
army, having taken
Troy
at last, has nailed up these spoils to be a glory for the gods throughout
Hellas
in their shrines from days of old.
575
Whoever hears the story of these deeds must extol the city and the leaders of her host; and the grace of Zeus that brought them to accomplishment shall receive its due measure of gratitude. There, you have heard all that I have to say.
580
Agamemnon. Aeschylus. Herbert Weir Smyth (Translator). New York. 1926.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.