KING AGAMEMNON.

And know thou that I too have

A mind and will I mar not.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

So from fear

Thou hadst vowed Heaven to act thus.

KING AGAMEMNON.

Nay, if ever man

Knew his own mind, and knowing gave it utterance, In uttering this mine issue that did I.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

What think ye then of Priam, what of him
Had he thus wrought-thus fared?

KING AGAMEMNON.

I think that he

Had footed it on purples daintily.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

Why tremble, then, at the reproof of man?

Why rate it thus ?

KING AGAMEMNON.

Because the commons' voice

Is mighty, and hath a mysterious power.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

Mighty-mysterious-envious rather-but

Unenvied means unhappy.170

KING AGAMEMNON.

How it doth

Misseem a woman to have lust and longing

Ever for wrangling.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

As it well beseems

Great conquerors somewhile to be conquered.

KING AGAMEMNON.

And now for thy part dost thou covet thus
This issue of contention* for thy conquest?

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

Nay, yield thee, be content; and willingly
Thyself, thy triumph, give thou up to me.

KING AGAMEMNON.

Well-an thou thus wilt have it-with all haste
Be these the sandals of my feet unlaced,
My steps that lacky-lest by these some God
Behold this sea-empurpled carpet trod,
And with an ill eye smite me; for I blush
To mar my palace-hangings and the flush
Of my bright wealth, by wearing down to earth,
With this my foot, these weavings silver-worth.
Of this thus much-and now-

[He points to CASSANDRA.]

--With courtesy

This stranger-maid lead in-for courteously
The God beholds from far the man of might,
That conquering gently-rules with sceptre light.
For where is he with ready mind would wear
The yoke of thraldom? This poor Maid, the fair
Fresh flower and choice of treasures manifold,
Gift of the host, with me her way doth hold.
But since I needs must hear thee, in this thing,
I'll onward to my Halls, on purples travelling.

* The being conquered.

QUEEN CLYTEMNESTRA.

A sea there is (and who can staunch its flow?)11
That ever nurtureth in its depths below

A dye of vests, a silver-precious dew,

Priced at much purple, making all things new.
A house there is of these, O King, not scant,

A house heaven-blest, that knows nor stint nor want,
And vowed had I of vestures manifold
The treading under foot, if timely-told

By voice oracular, while here I planned
This life's repurchase to its father-land.

For live the root,172 and sure as green leaves come
From Seirian Dog to shade and shield the home,
So thou advancing to thine home and hearth
O'er winter's chill dost draw sweet summer-mirth :173
And as when Jove from the sharp grape
and sour

Presses the wine 'tis chill in hall and bower,
Thus in these Walls a freshening cool shall reign,
The good-man pacing through his home again.

Jove! Jove! good Jove! make good the vows I pray,
And heed the things thou hast to do this day.

[The King and Queen here retire within the Palace.
SANDRA remains on her chariot in front.]

CAS

CHORAL HYMN.

STROPHE I.

Prithee, why thus sternly, why

Doth yon shape before me stand,

Tiptoe as in act to fly,

When my heart the sign hath scanned;
While the unbought, the unbidden song174

Darkly prophets it along ?175

Why doth never hearty Trust
On my Spirit's honoured throne

Sit176 so surely, as to thrust
From the presence of my soul,
Yonder spectral shades and foul,
Like to vague dreams hardly-known ?*
The leaf is sere of many a year

Since their stern-ropes to the shore
Moored the keels that grided sheer
Up the shelved and sandy floor,
When our ships' great armament
Under Ilion's Watch-towers went.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Now from mine own self I learn
-For mine eyes the answer give-
Witness of their glad return,
That I welcome them and live.
Yet within me, dull and low,
Hymns my soul the dirge of woe-
Hymns, self-taught, nor wakes the lyre,
For it hath no hope within,

Brave assurance to inspire;

While against my thoughtful mind
Doomed the end it fears to find

Whirls my heart 177 with deafening din.

For though I quail, no flattering tale
Doth my spirit tell; but all
I do pray for is to fail

In mine hapless hopes, and fall
From my false foreboding thought

Into fears that end in nought.

*What is this phantom of dread that I am ever seeing before me this unwonted, unaccountable emotion, that in the midst of our rejoicing, and in spite of all my efforts to the contrary, I feel within me? The shape seems ever mocking me, and rising and falling, and moving itself up and down in unison as it were, and keeping time with the mournful beat and music of my heart.

For gaunt disease, his neighbour stern,179
On him, whose house no middle wall
Parts off, doth lean in act to fall:
While man's full freight of wealth,
Right onward holding its free track,
Strikes, 180 with a sudden shock,
On some wave-hidden rock :

.181

But fear for chattels in the hold
With measured sling-cast, ware yet bold,
A part heaves over to the wave;1
Nor goes the whole full fabric down,
Though overcharged perchance it be
With wretchedness and misery;
Nor drives the hull to wrack.

In troth, Jove's ample boons and brave
-Earth's harvest-sheaves of joy,
The furrows of the year that crown-
All plagues of dearth destroy.*.

* There is but a plank between living and drowning-the thinnest of partitions, against which the man's besetting peril is ever leaning, between life and death. Houses may fall suddenly-ships may go down all standing, or be rescued from immediate wreck by heaving over the cargo, in whole or in part, and by so lightening them eventually to keep them afloat-dearth (and death, its follower) may be warded off by the bounty of Heaven "crowning the furrows with its sheaves, the year with its goodness"-but (Antistr. ii.) blood once spilt can never be redeemed-shed, it is shed for ever, like seed washed away, or grass withered, wasted, and gone past recovery, and for ever defying alike "the mower to fill with it his hand, and he that bindeth up the sheaves his bosom." "For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground which cannot be gathered up again."-2 Sam. xiv. 14.