The House of Atreus Part 6

War is not woman's part, nor war of words.

CLYTEMNESTRA

Yet happy victors well may yield therein.

AGAMEMNON

Dost crave for triumph in this petty strife?

CLYTEMNESTRA

Yield; of thy grace permit me to prevail!

AGAMEMNON

Then, if thou wilt, let some one stoop to loose Swiftly these sandals, slaves beneath my foot: And stepping thus upon the sea's rich dye, I pray, _Let none among the G.o.ds look down With jealous eye on me_--reluctant all, To trample thus and mar a thing of price, Wasting the wealth of garments silver-worth.

Enough hereof: and, for the stranger maid, Lead her within, but gently: G.o.d on high Looks graciously on him whom triumph's hour Has made not pitiless. None willingly Wear the slave's yoke--and she, the prize and flower Of all we won, comes. .h.i.ther in my train, Gift of the army to its chief and lord.

--Now, since in this my will bows down to thine, I will pa.s.s in on purples to my home.

CLYTEMNESTRA

A Sea there is--and who shall stay its springs?

And deep within its breast, a mighty store, Precious as silver, of the purple dye, Whereby the dipped robe doth its tint renew.

Enough of such, O king, within thy halls There lies, a store that cannot fail; but I-- I would have gladly vowed unto the G.o.ds Cost of a thousand garments trodden thus, (Had once the oracle such gift required) Contriving ransom for thy life preserved.

For while the stock is firm the foliage climbs, Spreading a shade what time the dog-star glows; And thou, returning to thine hearth and home, Art as a genial warmth in winter hours, Or as a coolness, when the lord of heaven Mellows the juice within the bitter grape.

Such boons and more doth bring into a home The present footstep of its proper lord.

Zeus, Zeus, Fulfilment's lord! my vows fulfil, And whatsoe'er it be, work forth thy will!

[_Exeunt all but Ca.s.sandra and the Chorus._

CHORUS

Wherefore for ever on the wings of fear Hovers a vision drear Before my boding heart? a strain, Unbidden and unwelcome, thrills mine ear, Oracular of pain.

Not as of old upon my bosom's throne Sits Confidence, to spurn Such fears, like dreams we know not to discern.

Old, old and gray long since the time has grown, Which saw the linked cables moor The fleet, when erst it came to Ilion's sandy sh.o.r.e; And now mine eyes and not another's see Their safe return.

Yet none the less in me The inner spirit sings a boding song, Self-prompted, sings the Furies' strain-- And seeks, and seeks in vain, To hope and to be strong!

Ah! to some end of Fate, unseen, unguessed, Are these wild throbbings of my heart and breast?

Yea, of some doom they tell?

Each pulse, a knell.

Lief, lief I were, that all To unfulfilment's hidden realm might fall.

Too far, too far our mortal spirits strive, Grasping at utter weal, unsatisfied-- Till the fell curse, that dwelleth hard beside, Thrust down the sundering wall. Too fair they blow, The gales that waft our bark on Fortune's tide!

Swiftly we sail, the sooner all to drive Upon the hidden rock, the reef of woe.

Then if the hand of caution warily Sling forth into the sea Part of the freight, lest all should sink below, From the deep death it saves the bark: even so, Doom-laden though it be, once more may rise His household, who is timely wise.

How oft the famine-stricken field Is saved by G.o.d's large gift, the new year's yield!

But blood of man once spilled, Once at his feet shed forth, and darkening the plain,-- Nor chant nor charm can call it back again.

So Zeus hath willed: Else had he spared the leech Asclepius, skilled To bring man from the dead: the hand divine Did smite himself with death--a warning and a sign.

Ah me! if Fate, ordained of old, Held not the will of G.o.ds constrained, controlled, Helpless to us ward, and apart-- Swifter than speech my heart Had poured its presage out!

Now, fretting, chafing in the dark of doubt, 'Tis hopeless to unfold Truth, from fear's tangled skein; and, yearning to proclaim Its thought, my soul is prophecy and flame.

_Re-enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA

Get thee within thou too, Ca.s.sandra, go!

For Zeus to thee in gracious mercy grants To share the sprinklings of the l.u.s.tral bowl, Beside the altar of his guardianship, Slave among many slaves. What, haughty still?

Step from the car; Alcmena's son, 'tis said, Was sold perforce and bore the yoke of old.

Ay, hard it is, but, if such fate befall, 'Tis a fair chance to serve within a home Of ancient wealth and power. An upstart lord, To whom wealth's harvest came beyond his hope, Is as a lion to his slaves, in all Exceeding fierce, immoderate in sway.

Pa.s.s in: thou hearest what our ways will be.

CHORUS

Clear unto thee, O maid, is her command, But thou--within the toils of Fate thou art-- If such thy will, I urge thee to obey; Yet I mis...o...b.. thou dost nor hear nor heed.

CLYTEMNESTRA

I wot--unless like swallows she doth use Some strange barbarian tongue from oversea-- My words must speak persuasion to her soul.

CHORUS

Obey: there is no gentler way than this.

Step from the car's high seat and follow her.

CLYTEMNESTRA

Truce to this bootless waiting here without!

I will not stay: beside the central shrine The victims stand, prepared for knife and fire-- Offerings from hearts beyond all hope made glad.

Thou--if thou reckest aught of my command, 'Twere well done soon: but if thy sense be shut From these my words, let thy barbarian hand Fulfil by gesture the default of speech.

CHORUS

No native is she, thus to read thy words Unaided: like some wild thing of the wood, New-trapped, behold! she shrinks and glares on thee.

CLYTEMNESTRA

'Tis madness and the rule of mind distraught, Since she beheld her city sink in fire, And hither comes, nor brooks the bit, until In foam and blood her wrath be champed away.

See ye to her; unqueenly 'tis for me, Unheeded thus to cast away my words.

[_Exit Clytemnestra._

CHORUS

But with me pity sits in anger's place.

Poor maiden, come thou from the car; no way There is but this--take up thy servitude.