Agamemnon

And for the soul of him, in place

Of his mighty deeds, a graceless grace

To wickedly institute? By whom

Shall the tale of praise o’er the tomb

At the god-like man be sent —

From the truth of his mind as he toils intent?

It belongs not to thee to declare

This object of care!

By us did he fall — down there!

Did he die — down there! and down, no less,

We will bury him there, and not beneath

The wails of the household over his death:

But Iphigeneia, — with kindliness, —

His daughter, — as the case requires,

Facing him full, at the rapid-flowing

Passage of Groans shall — both hands throwing

Around him — kiss that kindest of sires!

This blame comes in the place of blame:

Hard battle it is to judge each claim.

He is borne away who bears away:

And the killer has all to pay.

And this remains while Zeus is remaining,

The doer shall suffer in time — for, such his ordaining.

Who may cast out of the House its cursed brood?

The race is to Até glued!

Thou hast gone into this oracle

With a true result. For me, then, — I will

— To the Daimon of the Pleisthenidai

Making an oath — with all these things comply

Hard as they are to bear. For the rest —

Going from out this House, a guest,

May he wear some other family

To nought, with the deaths of kin by kin!

And, — keeping a little part of my goods, —

Wholly am I contented in

Having expelled from the royal House

These frenzied moods

The mutually-murderous.

O light propitious of day justice-bringing!

I may say truly, now, that men’s avengers,

The gods from high, of earth behold the sorrows —

Seeing, as I have, i’ the spun robes of the Erinues,

This man here lying, — sight to me how pleasant! —

His father’s hands’ contrivances repaying.

For Atreus, this land’s lord, of this man father,

Thuestes, my own father — to speak clearly —

His brother too, — being i’ the rule contested, —

Drove forth to exile from both town and household:

And, coming back, to the hearth turned, a suppliant,

Wretched Thuestes found the fate assured him

— Not to die, bloodying his paternal threshold

Just there: but host-wise this man’s impious father

Atreus, soul-keenly more than kindly, — seeming

To joyous hold a flesh-day, — to my father

Served up a meal, the flesh of his own children.

The feet indeed and the hands’ top divisions

He hid, high up and isolated sitting:

But, their unshowing parts in ignorance taking,

He forthwith eats food — as thou seest — perdition

To the race: and then, ’ware of the deed ill-omened,

He shrieked O! — falls back, vomiting, from the carnage,

And fate on the Pelopidai past bearing

He prays down — putting in his curse together

The kicking down o’ the feast — that so might perish

The race of Pleisthenes entire: and thence is

That it is given thee to see this man prostrate.

And I was rightly of this slaughter stitch-man:

Since me, — being third from ten, — with my poor father

He drives out — being then a babe in swathe-bands:

But, grown up, back again has justice brought me:

And of this man I got hold — being without-doors —

Fitting together the whole scheme of ill-will.

So, sweet, in fine, even to die were to me,

Seeing, as I have, this man i’ the toils of justice!

Aigisthos, arrogance in ills I love not.

Dost thou say — willing, thou didst kill the man here,

And, alone, plot this lamentable slaughter?

I say — thy head in justice will escape not

The people’s throwing — know that! — stones and curses!

Thou such things soundest — seated at the lower

Oarage to those who rule at the ship’s mid-bench?

Thou shalt know, being old, how heavy is teaching

To one of the like age — bidden be modest!

But chains and old age and the pangs of fasting

Stand out before all else in teaching, — prophets

At souls’-cure! Dost not, seeing aught, see this too?

Against goads kick not, lest tript-up thou suffer!

Woman, thou, — of him coming new from battle

Houseguard — thy husband’s bed the while disgracing, —

For the Army-leader didst thou plan this fate too?

These words too are of groans the prime-begetters!

Truly a tongue opposed to Orpheus hast thou:

Foi he led all things by his voice’s grace-charm,

But thou, upstirring them by these wild yelpings,

Wilt lead them! Forced, thou wilt appear the tamer!

So — thou shalt be my king then of the Argeians —

Who, not when for this man his fate thou plannedst,

Daredst to do this deed — thyself the slayer!

For, to deceive him was the wife’s part, certes:

I was looked after — foe, ay, old-begotten!