With violence and a curb's voiceless wrath.

Her stole of saffron then to the ground she threw, And her eye with an arrow of pity found its path To each man's heart that slew: A face in a picture, striving amazedly; The little maid who danced at her father's board, The innocent voice man's love came never nigh, Who joined to his her little paean-cry When the third cup was poured....

What came thereafter I saw not neither tell.

But the craft of Calchas failed not.--'Tis written, He Who Suffereth Shall Learn; the law holdeth well.

And that which is to be, Ye will know at last; why weep before the hour?

For come it shall, as out of darkness dawn.

Only may good from all this evil flower; So prays this Heart of Argos, this frail tower Guarding the land alone.

[_As they cease,_ CLYTEMNESTRA _comes from the Palace with Attendants.

She has finished her prayer and sacrifice, and is now wrought up to face the meeting with her husband. The Leader approaches her_.

LEADER.

Before thy state, O Queen, I bow mine eyes.

'Tis written, when the man's throne empty lies, The woman shall be honoured.--Hast thou heard Some tiding sure? Or is it Hope, hath stirred To fire these altars? Dearly though we seek To learn, 'tis thine to speak or not to speak.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Glad-voiced, the old saw telleth, comes this morn, The Star-child of a dancing midnight born, And beareth to thine ear a word of joy Beyond all hope: the Greek hath taken Troy.

LEADER.

How?

Thy word flies past me, being incredible.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Ilion is ours. No riddling tale I tell.

LEADER.

Such joy comes knocking at the gate of tears.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Aye, 'tis a faithful heart that eye declares.

LEADER.

What warrant hast thou? Is there proof of this?

CLYTEMNESTRA.

There is; unless a G.o.d hath lied there is.

LEADER.

Some dream-shape came to thee in speaking guise?

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Who deemeth me a dupe of drowsing eyes?

LEADER.

Some word within that hovereth without wings?

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Am I a child to hearken to such things?

LEADER.

Troy fallen?--But how long? When fell she, say?

CLYTEMNESTRA.

The very night that mothered this new day.

LEADER.

And who of heralds with such fury came?

CLYTEMNESTRA.

A Fire-G.o.d, from Mount Ida scattering flame.

Whence starting, beacon after beacon burst In flaming message hitherward. Ida first Told Hermes' Lemnian Rock, whose answering sign Was caught by towering Athos, the divine, With pines immense--yea, fishes of the night Swam skyward, drunken with that leaping light, Which swelled like some strange sun, till dim and far Makistos' watchmen marked a glimmering star; They, nowise loath nor idly slumber-won, Spring up to hurl the fiery message on, And a far light beyond the Euripus tells That word hath reached Messapion's sentinels.

They beaconed back, then onward with a high Heap of dead heather flaming to the sky.

And onward still, not failing nor aswoon, Across the Asopus like a beaming moon The great word leapt, and on Kithairon's height Uproused a new relay of racing light.

His watchers knew the wandering flame, nor hid Their welcome, burning higher than was bid.

Out over Lake Gorgopis then it floats, To Aigiplanctos, waking the wild goats, Crying for "Fire, more Fire!" And fire was reared, Stintless and high, a stormy streaming beard, That waved in flame beyond the promontory Rock-ridged, that watches the Saronian sea, Kindling the night: then one short swoop to catch The Spider's Crag, our city's tower of watch; Whence hither to the Atreidae's roof it came, A light true-fathered of Idaean flame.

Torch-bearer after torch-bearer, behold The tale thereof in stations manifold, Each one by each made perfect ere it pa.s.sed, And Victory in the first as in the last.

These be my proofs and tokens that my lord From Troy hath spoke to me a burning word.

LEADER.

Woman, speak on. Hereafter shall my prayer Be raised to G.o.d; now let me only hear, Again and full, the marvel and the joy.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Now, even now, the Achaian holdeth Troy!

Methinks there is a crying in her streets That makes no concord. When sweet unguent meets With vinegar in one phial, I warrant none Shall lay those wranglers lovingly at one.

So conquerors and conquered shalt thou hear, Two sundered tones, two lives of joy or fear.

Here women in the dust about their slain, Husbands or brethren, and by dead old men Pale children who shall never more be free, For all they loved on earth cry desolately.

And hard beside them war-stained Greeks, whom stark Battle and then long searching through the dark Hath gathered, ravenous, in the dawn, to feast At last on all the plenty Troy possessed, No portion in that feast nor ordinance, But each man clutching at the prize of chance.

Aye, there at last under good roofs they lie Of men spear-quelled, no frosts beneath the sky, No watches more, no bitter moony dew....

How blessed they will sleep the whole night through!

Oh, if these days they keep them free from sin Toward Ilion's conquered shrines and Them within Who watch unconquered, maybe not again The smiter shall be smit, the taker ta'en.