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CHOROS.
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
370
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
375
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
380
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.
385
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
370
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
375
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
380
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 —
385
It urges him, the sad persuasiveness,
Até’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;
390
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
395
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 —
400
Shamed the guest’s board by robbery of the spouse.
403
Yes —
385
It urges him, the sad persuasiveness,
Até’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;
390
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
395
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 —
400
Shamed the guest’s board by robbery of the spouse.
And, leaving to her townsmen throngs a-spread
With shields, and spear-thrusts of sea-armament,
And bringing
Ilion
, in a dowry’s stead,
405
Destruction — swiftly through the gates she went,
Daring the undareable. But many a groan outbroke
From prophets of the House as thus they spoke.
Woe, woe the House, the House and Rulers, — woe
The marriage-bed and dints
410
A husband’s love imprints!
There she stands silent! meets no honour — no
Shame — sweetest still to see of things gone long ago!
And, through desire of one across the main,
A ghost will seem within the house to reign.
415
And hateful to the husband is the grace
Of well-shaped statues: from — in place of eyes
Those blanks — all Aphrodite dies.
420
And, leaving to her townsmen throngs a-spread
With shields, and spear-thrusts of sea-armament,
And bringing
Ilion
, in a dowry’s stead,
405
Destruction — swiftly through the gates she went,
Daring the undareable. But many a groan outbroke
From prophets of the House as thus they spoke.
Woe, woe the House, the House and Rulers, — woe
The marriage-bed and dints
410
A husband’s love imprints!
There she stands silent! meets no honour — no
Shame — sweetest still to see of things gone long ago!
And, through desire of one across the main,
A ghost will seem within the house to reign.
415
And hateful to the husband is the grace
Of well-shaped statues: from — in place of eyes
Those blanks — all Aphrodite dies.
But dream-appearing mournful fantasies —
420
There they stand, bringing grace that’s vain.
For vain ’t is, when brave things one seems to view;
The fantasy has floated off, hands through;
Gone, that appearance, — nowise left to creep, —
425
On wings, the servants in the paths of sleep!
Woes, then, in household and on hearth, are such
As these—and woes surpassing these by much.
But not these only: everywhere —
For those who from the land
Of
Hellas
issued in a band,
Sorrow, the heart must bear,
430
Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there.
Many a circumstance, at least,
Touches the very breast.
For those
Whom any sent away, — he knows:
And in the live man’s stead,
Armour and ashes reach
435
The house of each.
437
But dream-appearing mournful fantasies —
420
There they stand, bringing grace that’s vain.
For vain ’t is, when brave things one seems to view;
The fantasy has floated off, hands through;
Gone, that appearance, — nowise left to creep, —
425
On wings, the servants in the paths of sleep!
Woes, then, in household and on hearth, are such
As these—and woes surpassing these by much.
But not these only: everywhere —
For those who from the land
Of
Hellas
issued in a band,
Sorrow, the heart must bear,
430
Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there.
Many a circumstance, at least,
Touches the very breast.
For those
Whom any sent away, — he knows:
And in the live man’s stead,
Armour and ashes reach
435
The house of each.
For Ares, gold-exchanger for the dead,
And balance-holder in the fight o’ the spear,
Due-weight from
Ilion
sends —
What moves the tear on tear —
440
A charred scrap to the friends:
Filling with well-packed ashes every urn,
For man — that was — the sole return.
And they groan — praising much, the while,
Now this man as experienced in the strife,
445
Now that, fallen nobly on a slaughtered pile,
Because of — not his own — another’s wife.
But things there be, one barks,
When no man harks:
A surreptitious grief that’s grudge
450
Against the Atreidai who first sought the judge.
But some there, round the rampart, have
In Ilian earth, each one his grave:
All fair-formed as at birth,
It hid them — what they have and hold — the hostile earth.
455
456
For Ares, gold-exchanger for the dead,
And balance-holder in the fight o’ the spear,
Due-weight from
Ilion
sends —
What moves the tear on tear —
440
A charred scrap to the friends:
Filling with well-packed ashes every urn,
For man — that was — the sole return.
And they groan — praising much, the while,
Now this man as experienced in the strife,
445
Now that, fallen nobly on a slaughtered pile,
Because of — not his own — another’s wife.
But things there be, one barks,
When no man harks:
A surreptitious grief that’s grudge
450
Against the Atreidai who first sought the judge.
But some there, round the rampart, have
In Ilian earth, each one his grave:
All fair-formed as at birth,
It hid them — what they have and hold — the hostile earth.
455
And big with anger goes the city’s word,
And pays a debt by public curse incurred.
And ever with me— as about to hear
A something night-involved — remains my fear:
460
Since of the many-slayers — not
Unwatching are the gods.
The black Erinues, at due periods —
Whoever gains the lot
Of fortune with no right —
Him, by life’s strain and stress
465
Back-again-beaten from success,
They strike blind: and among the out-of-sight
For who has got to be, avails no might.
The being praised outrageously
Is grave, for at the eyes of such an one
Is launched, from Zeus, the thunder-stone.
470
Therefore do I decide
For so much and no more prosperity
Than of his envy passes unespied.
Neither a city-sacker would I be,
Nor life, myself by others captive, see.
475
And big with anger goes the city’s word,
And pays a debt by public curse incurred.
And ever with me— as about to hear
A something night-involved — remains my fear:
460
Since of the many-slayers — not
Unwatching are the gods.
The black Erinues, at due periods —
Whoever gains the lot
Of fortune with no right —
Him, by life’s strain and stress
465
Back-again-beaten from success,
They strike blind: and among the out-of-sight
For who has got to be, avails no might.
The being praised outrageously
Is grave, for at the eyes of such an one
Is launched, from Zeus, the thunder-stone.
470
Therefore do I decide
For so much and no more prosperity
Than of his envy passes unespied.
Neither a city-sacker would I be,
Nor life, myself by others captive, see.
A swift report has gone our city through,
475
From fire, the good-news messenger: if true,
Who knows? Or is it not a god-sent lie?
Who is so childish and deprived of sense
That, having, at announcements of the flame
480
Thus novel, felt his own heart fired thereby,
He then shall at a change of evidence,
Be worsted just the same?
It is conspicuous in a woman’s nature,
Before its view to take a grace for granted:
Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature
485
Is swiftly made;
But swiftly, too, decayed,
The glory perishes by woman vaunted.
A swift report has gone our city through,
475
From fire, the good-news messenger: if true,
Who knows? Or is it not a god-sent lie?
Who is so childish and deprived of sense
That, having, at announcements of the flame
480
Thus novel, felt his own heart fired thereby,
He then shall at a change of evidence,
Be worsted just the same?
It is conspicuous in a woman’s nature,
Before its view to take a grace for granted:
Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature
485
Is swiftly made;
But swiftly, too, decayed,
The glory perishes by woman vaunted.
Agamemnon. Aeschylus. London. 1889.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.