Agamemnon

The opposite to say I shall not shamed be:

For how should one, to enemies, — in semblance,

Friends, — enmity proposing, — sorrow’s net-frame

Enclose, a height superior to outleaping?

To me, indeed, this struggle of old — not mindless

Of an old victory — came: with time, I grant you!

I stand where I have struck, things once accomplished:

And so have done, — and this deny I shall not, —

As that his fate was nor to fly nor ward off.

A wrap-round with no outlet, as for fishes,

I fence about him — the rich woe of the garment:

I strike him twice, and in a double Ah-me!

He let his limbs go — there! And to him, fallen,

The third blow add I, giving — of Below-ground

Zeus, guardian of the dead — the votive favour.

Thus in the mind of him he rages, falling,

And blowing forth a brisk blood-spatter, strikes me

With the dark drop of slaughterous dew — rejoicing

No less than, at the god-given dewy-comfort,

The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx.

Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, —

Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice: but I — boast!

If it were fit on corpse to pour libation,

That would be right — right over and above, too!

The cup of evils in the house he, having

Filled with such curses, himself coming drinks of.

We wonder at thy tongue: since bold-mouthed truly

Is she who in such speech boasts o’er her husband I

Ye test me as I were a witless woman:

But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowers

Say (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me,

Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon,

My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,

Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.

What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred

Or sent from the flowing sea,

Of such having fed

Didst thou set on thee

This sacrifice

And popular cries

Of a curse on thy head?

Off thou hast thrown him, off hast cut

The man from the city: but —

Off from the city thyself shalt be

Cut — to the citizens

A hate immense!

Now, indeed, thou adjudgest exile to me,

And citizens’ hate, and to have popular curses:

Nothing of this against the man here bringing,

Who, no more awe-checked than as ’t were a beast’s fate, —

With sheep abundant in the well-fleeced graze-flocks, —

Sacrificed his child, — dearest fruit of travail

To me, — as song-spell against Threkian blowings.

Not him did it behove thee hence to banish

— Pollution’s penalty? But hearing mzy deeds

Justicer rough thou art! Now, this I tell thee:

To threaten thus — me, one prepared to have thee

(On like conditions, thy hand conquering) o’er me

Rule: but if God the opposite ordain us,

Thou shalt learn — late taught, certes — to be modest.

Greatly-intending thou art:

Much-mindful, too, hast thou cried

(Since thy mind, with its slaughter-outpouring part,

Is frantic) that over the eyes, a patch

Of blood — with blood to match —

Is plain for a pride!

Yet still, bereft of friends, thy fate

Is — blow with blow to expiate!

And this thou hearest — of my oaths, just warrant!

By who fulfilled things for my daughter, Justice,

Até, Erinus, — by whose help I slew him, —

Not mine the fancy — Fear will tread my palace

So long as on my hearth there burns a fire,

Aigisthos as before well-caring for me;

Since he to me is shield, no small, of boldness.

Here does he lie — outrager of this female,

Dainty of all the Chruseids under Ilion;

And she — the captive, the soothsayer also

And couchmate of this man, oracle-speaker,

Faithful bed-fellow, — ay, the sailors’ benches

They wore in common, nor unpunished did so,

Since he is — thus! While, as for her, — swan-fashion,

Her latest having chanted, — dying wailing

She lies, — to him, a sweetheart: me she brought to —

My bed’s by-nicety — the whet of dalliance.

Alas, that some

Fate would come

Upon us in quickness —

Neither much sickness

Neither bed-keeping —

And bear unended sleeping,

Now that subdued

Is our keeper, the kindest of mood!

Having borne, for a woman’s sake, much strife —

By a woman he withered from life!

Ah me!

Law-breaking Helena who, one,

Hast many, so many souls undone

’Neath Troia! and now the consummated

Much-memorable curse