O land of Argos, fatherland of mine!

To thee at last, beneath the tenth year's sun, My feet return; the bark of my emprise, Tho' one by one hope's anchors broke away, Held by the last, and now rides safely here.

Long, long my soul despaired to win, in death, Its longed-for rest within our Argive land: And now all hail, O earth, and hail to thee, New-risen sun! and hail our country's G.o.d, High-ruling Zeus, and thou, the Pythian lord, Whose arrows smote us once--smite thou no more!

Was not thy wrath wreaked full upon our heads, O king Apollo, by Scamander's side?

Turn thou, be turned, be saviour, healer, now!

And hail, all G.o.ds who rule the street and mart And Hermes hail! my patron and my pride, Herald of heaven, and lord of heralds here!

And Heroes, ye who sped us on our way-- To one and all I cry, _Receive again With grace such Argives as the spear has spared._

Ah, home of royalty, beloved halls, And solemn shrines, and G.o.ds that front the morn!

Benign as erst, with sun-flushed aspect greet The king returning after many days.

For as from night flash out the beams of day, So out of darkness dawns a light, a king, On you, on Argos--Agamemnon comes.

Then hail and greet him well! such meed befits Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong-- And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness Each altar, every shrine; and far and wide Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair.

Such mighty yoke of fate he set on Troy-- Our lord and monarch, Atreus' elder son, And comes at last with blissful honour home; Highest of all who walk on earth to-day-- Not Paris nor the city's self that paid Sin's price with him, can boast, _Whate'er befal, The guerdon we have won outweighs it all._ But at Fate's judgment-seat the robber stands Condemned of rapine, and his prey is torn Forth from his hands, and by his deed is reaped A b.l.o.o.d.y harvest of his home and land Gone down to death, and for his guilt and l.u.s.t His father's race pays double in the dust.

CHORUS

Hail, herald of the Greeks, new-come from war.

HERALD

All hail! not death itself can fright me now.

CHORUS

Was thine heart wrung with longing for thy land?

HERALD

So that this joy doth brim mine eyes with tears.

CHORUS

On you too then this sweet distress did fall--

HERALD

How say'st thou? make me master of thy word.

CHORUS

You longed for us who pined for you again.

HERALD

Craved the land us who craved it, love for love?

CHORUS

Yea till my brooding heart moaned out with pain.

HERALD

Whence thy despair, that mars the army's joy?

CHORUS

_Sole cure of wrong is silence,_ saith the saw.

HERALD

Thy kings afar, couldst thou fear other men?

CHORUS

Death had been sweet, as thou didst say but now.

HERALD

'Tis true; Fate smiles at last. Throughout our toil, These many years, some chances issued fair, And some, I wot, were chequered with a curse.

But who, on earth, hath won the bliss of heaven, Thro' time's whole tenor an unbroken weal?

I could a tale unfold of toiling oars, Ill rest, scant landings on a sh.o.r.e rock-strewn, All pains, all sorrows, for our daily doom.

And worse and hatefuller our woes on land; For where we couched, close by the foeman's wall, The river-plain was ever dank with dews, Dropped from the sky, exuded from the earth, A curse that clung unto our sodden garb, And hair as horrent as a wild beast's fell.

Why tell the woes of winter, when the birds Lay stark and stiff, so stern was Ida's snow?

Or summer's scorch, what time the stirless wave Sank to its sleep beneath the noon-day sun?

Why mourn old woes? their pain has pa.s.sed away; And pa.s.sed away, from those who fell, all care, For evermore, to rise and live again.

Why sum the count of death, and render thanks For life by moaning over fate malign?

Farewell, a long farewell to all our woes!

To us, the remnant of the host of Greece, Comes weal beyond all counterpoise of woe; Thus boast we rightfully to yonder sun, Like him far-fleeted over sea and land.

_The Argive host prevailed to conquer Troy, And in the temples of the G.o.ds of Greece Hung up these spoils, a shining sign to Time._ Let those who learn this legend bless aright The city and its chieftains, and repay The meed of grat.i.tude to Zeus who willed And wrought the deed. So stands the tale fulfilled.

CHORUS

Thy words o'erbear my doubt: for news of good, The ear of age hath ever youth enow: But those within and Clytemnestra's self Would fain hear all; glad thou their ears and mine.

_Re-enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA

Last night, when first the fiery courier came, In sign that Troy is ta'en and razed to earth, So wild a cry of joy my lips gave out, That I was chidden--_Hath the beacon watch Made sure unto thy soul the sack of Troy?

A very woman thou, whose heart leaps light At wandering rumours!_--and with words like these They showed me how I strayed, misled of hope.

Yet on each shrine I set the sacrifice, And, in the strain they held for feminine, Went heralds thro' the city, to and fro, With voice of loud proclaim, announcing joy; And in each fane they lit and quenched with wine The spicy perfumes fading in the flame.

All is fulfilled: I spare your longer tale-- The king himself anon shall tell me all.

Remains to think what honour best may greet My lord, the majesty of Argos, home.

What day beams fairer on a woman's eyes Than this, whereon she flings the portal wide, To hail her lord, heaven-shielded, home from war?

This to my husband, that he tarry not, But turn the city's longing into joy!

Yea let him come, and coming may he find A wife no other than he left her, true And faithful as a watch-dog to his home, His foemen's foe, in all her duties leal, Trusty to keep for ten long years unmarred The store whereon he set his master-seal.

Be steel deep-dyed, before ye look to see Ill joy, ill fame, from other wight, in me!

HERALD