Archpriestess of a deity pure yet stern,
The Great Goddess Diana, slaughterer
Of helpless and ship-foundered mariners,
Familiar of the Tauric Chersonese,
The shore Crimean and the Tartar steppe
Where that Cimmerian gorge, war's theatre,
Rock-walled and paved in bones, if reeking still
With blood, is yet all freshly redolent
With acts of martyrdom; and memories
Of Agamemnon, for his people's sake
Childless, the father of a host of heroes
Saved through his sacrifice of self, yea saved
For days of trial-vengeance-victory.
Well done! brave Agamemnon, and once more
We greet thee, harbinger of good, well done!
And may thy name, a cherished household word,
Thrice, with a strong three-stranded cable, linked
Unto the anchor of Good Hope, for us
And ours be prompter of all patience,
Counsellor of endurance, nothing daunted
By storm and tempest, nor when cloud of battle
Lit with the levin-flame rolls on, and sweeps
War-file and column and war's enginry
Adown the deep ravine, or o'er the field
Borne backward bodily, yet fronting still
The foe, or drives them to lie struggling long,
In trench or sick-bay, with the night assault
Of swarming Russ, or that more fierce assailant,
Noontide and night, the plague that never sleepeth,
But ever walketh on its death-patrol
From camp to camp, from tent to tent, from man To man, in darkness, yet most visible;
Fierce as of old, when Phoebus thrilled the ranks With the dire twanging of his silver bow,
And bruised, yet brake not, Agamemnon's heart :
Even then, even thus, be Agamemnon's name
Our ready and most prompt remembrancer
Of Agamemnon's patient majesty,
His triumph over self and o'er his foes.
As he the ten-years' leaguer pushed, may ours,
Gone forth, still bravely bear the lets of time:
As he returned in peace, may ours return
Happier than he, to find in their own land,
In their own home, around their own dear hearth,
Mayhap no traitorous tissued garnitures,
But, better than all purples, silver and gold,
A peace and welcome unadulterate,
An age of honour and a death of joy.
AGAMEMNON, Son of Atreus, the King of Argos and the Isles.
ÆGISTHUS, an Usurper, Son of Thyestes.
HERALD, Talthybius.
WARDER of the King's House at Argos.
CLYTEMNESTRA, the Queen, Wife of King Agamemnon.
CASSANDRA, Daughter of King Priam, a War-captive and Prophetess from Troy.
SCENE throughout :-Argos. The Way between the Landing-place on the Inachus, and the Palace-gate which stands full in front. A Watch-tower rises from one corner of the Palace, overlooking the platform of the roof. Hill country dimly seen in the distance.
Above on the Watch-Tower of the Palace is seen the WARDER, looking out towards the Beacon on the heights of Arachne. He rests, and occasionally paces to and fro, and at length speaks-—(solus).
THE Gods-the Gods-I do beseech the Gods
To send me a relief1 from this hard service,
This year-long wearisome watching." Yes-I sleep-
Sleep as a dog doth3-on the Atreidan house-tops,
With my crooked fore-arm for my pillow-sleep,
And spell the host of night-stars, one by one,
In conclave gathering, and those ushers-in
Of winter and sweet summer unto men,
Princes of a bright dynasty," star-gems
Blazoned in heaven-they set and rise again,
But never rise nor set with rest for me.8
And now I am on my patrol, looking out for
The beacon's pass-word, the first shoot of fire
That fares from Troy with tidings and the tale
Of Troy-town's taking. Her arch-bidding this,
Our man-queen with the bold all-hoping heart"
Standing on tiptoe expectation;
While I, poor I, night-wanderer as I am,
Do keep my weary waking bed, dew-wet, 10
By dreams unvisited," for gaunt alarm,
'Stead of sweet slumber, is my sentinel,12
Forbidding me in that same coveted slumber
To seal mine eyelids down: and when I fain
Would try a song, or whistle me a tune,
With this, my counterfeit music, carving out
A counter-charm to sleep, alas! alas!
'Tis all one, do whate'er I will, nought do I,
But wail and groan for the great miseries
That light upon this house—a house no more
Royally ministered as heretofore,
[He suddenly catches sight of the signal-fire kindled on the heights of Arachne.]
-Now come joyaunce, come my toil's relief, Fire through the darkness flasheth on my grief, The fire of glad good tidings. Hail! all hail! Night-torch whose brightness maketh day grow pale,' Herald of light-and, from this night's good chance, To Argos marshal of full many a dance.
Hurrah! hurrah!
Awake! awake! hurrah!
Now in the ear of Agamemnon's wife
I ring my message clearly, that she rise
With all speed from her bed, and through the house
Raise her loud cry of welcoming, to greet
This torch-flame; if, that is, the town of Troy
Be taken as this bright-tongued beacon saith.
And I myself will dance a measure first
By way of prelude, for I'll wager yel
My master's matters turn out bravely, seeing
This beacon beaconeth three sizes to me.16
O that I once in this right hand might bear
The gracious right hand of my Lord the King,
Coming again unto his own in peace:
the big bull o'er my tongue
talk out. O these walls,
|