Agamemnon

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 1,735 sections

280
And who of messengers could reach this swiftness?
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Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide.
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Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster,
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Hitherward: Ide to the rock Hermaian
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Of Lemnos: and a third great torch o’ the island
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Zeus’ seat received in turn, the Athoan summit.
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And, — so upsoaring as to stride sea over,
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The strong lamp-voyager, and all for joyance —
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Did the gold-glorious splendour, any sun like,
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Pass on — the pine-tree — to Makistos’ watch-place;
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Who did not, — tardy, — caught, no wits about him,
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By sleep, — decline his portion of the missive.
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And far the beacon’s light, on stream Euripos
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Arriving, made aware Messapios’ warders,
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And up they lit in turn, played herald onwards,
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Kindling with flame a heap of grey old heather.
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And, strengthening still, the lamp, decaying nowise,
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Springing o’er Plain Asopos, — full-moon-fashion
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Effulgent, — toward the crag of Mount Kithairon,
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Roused a new rendering-up of fire the escort —
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And light, far escort, lacked no recognition
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O’ the guard — as burning more than burnings told you.
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And over Lake Gorgopis light went leaping,
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And, at Mount Aigiplanktos safe arriving,
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Enforced the law — to never stint the fire-stuff.
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And they send, lighting up with ungrudged vigour,
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Of flame a huge beard, ay, the very foreland
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So as to strike above, in burning onward,
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The look-out which commands the Strait Saronic.
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Then did it dart until it reached the outpost
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Mount Arachnaios here, the city’s neighbour;
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And then darts to this roof of the Atreidai
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This light of Ide’s fire not unforefathered!
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Such are the rules prescribed the flambeau-bearers:
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He beats that’s first and also last in running.
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Such is the proof and token I declare thee,
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My husband having sent me news from Troia.
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The gods, indeed, anon will I pray, woman!
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But now, these words to hear, and sate my wonder
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Thoroughly, I am fain — if twice thou tell them.
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Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day.
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I think a noise — no mixture — reigns i’ the city.
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Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel —
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Standers-apart, not lovers, wouldst thou style them:
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And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise
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The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.
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For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate
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Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents
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— The old men, from a throat that ’s free no longer,
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Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:
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While these — the after-battle hungry labour,
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Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast
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On the town’s store, according to no billet
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Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.
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In the spear-captured Troic habitations
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House they already: from the frosts upmethral
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And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,
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Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.
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And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders,
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And the gods’ structures of the conquered country,
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They may not — capturers—soon in turn be captive.
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But see no prior lust befall the army
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To sack things sacred — by gain-cravings vanquished
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For there needs homeward the return’s salvation,
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To round the new limb back o’ the double race-course.
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And guilty to the gods if came the army,
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Awakened up the sorrow of those slaughtered
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Might be — should no outbursting evils happen.
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But may good beat — no turn to see i’ the balance!
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For, many benefits I want the gain of.
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Woman, like prudent man thou kindly speakest.
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And I, thus having heard thy trusty tokens,
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The gods to rightly hail forthwith prepare me;
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For, grace that must be paid has crowned our labours.
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O Zeus the king, and friendly Night
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Of these brave boons bestower —
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Thou who didst fling on Troia’s every tower
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The o’er-roofing snare, that neither great thing might,
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Nor any of the young ones, overpass
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Captivity’s great sweep-net — one and all
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Of Até held in thrall!
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Ay, Zeus I fear — the guest’s friend great — who was
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The doer of this, and long since bent
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The bow on Alexandros with intent
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That neither wide o’ the white
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Nor o’er the stars the foolish dart should light.
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The stroke of Zeus — they have it, as men say!
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This, at least, from the source track forth we may!
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As he ordained, so has he done.
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No — said someone —
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The gods think fit to care
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Nowise for mortals, such
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As those by whom the good and fair
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Of things denied their touch
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Is trampled! but he was profane.
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That they do care, has been made plain
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To offspring of the over-bold,
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Outbreathing Ares greater than is just —
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Houses that spill with more than they can hold,
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More than is best for man. Be man’s what must

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0085.tlg005.perseus-eng4. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0. Source.