shown to the two kings

  along the road; for still from the irresistible

  god-surge of strength within me

  breathes persuasion grown old with my years,

  to sing how the twin thrones joined

  as one heart in command of the Achaeans,

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  the youth of Hellas, driven

  with spear and arm to Troy by the ominous wing beat.

  The king of the birds to the kings

  of the ships, black eagle and a white behind it,

  in full view, hard by the palace,

  by the spear-hand, ripped open a hare

  with her unborn still swelling inside her,

  stopped from her last chance ever to escape.

  Sing sorrow, sorrow, but let the good prevail.

  And when the good seer of the army

  saw it,

  Antistrophe 1

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  perceiving the two kings

  weren’t of one mind, he knew that the Atreidae,

  the leaders of the fleet,

  were the ravenous destroyers of the hare,

  and so, interpreting

  the sign, he spoke: “This campaign will in time

  overrun Priam’s city,

  and Fate slaughter all of the thick herds

  of the people before the walls.

  But let no god’s jealousy before this happens

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  hurl into darkness the vast bit

  of the army meant to curb the mouth of Troy.

  For holy Artemis, in pity,

  is furious at her father’s flying blood-

  hounds eating in sacrifice

  the trembling hare and all her unripe young.

  The bird feast sickens her.

  Sing sorrow, sorrow, but let the good prevail.

  Beautiful as you are, and kind to the dew slick

  Epode

  cubs of ferocious lions,

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  ever delightful to the teat-sucking whelps

  of all beasts grazing the fields,

  grant nevertheless that the signs mean well—fraught

  though they are with evil.

  And blessed Apollo, Healer, keep her from sending

  gale winds against the ships,

  holding them fast and long at anchor, exacting

  cold, mute sacrifice,

  infection of blood strife and faithlessness. For wrath

  waits, ready to rise again,

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  an ever wakeful keeper of the house,

  unforgetting, secret, never

  to be denied its vengence for the child.”

  These were the mixed words

  Calchas shrieked out as he read the bird omen

  by the wayside

  for the royal house, and in harmony with these

  sing sorrow, sorrow, but let the good prevail.

  Whoever Zeus may be,

  Strophe 2

  if it pleases him by this

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  name to be called, by this

  name then I call to him.

  I have weighed this with that,

  and, pondering everything,

  discover nothing now

  but Zeus to cast for good

  the anxious weight of this

  unknowing from my mind.

  He who was once great, boundless

  Antistrophe 2

  in strength, unappeasable, is now

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  unnamed, unsung, as if

  he never was, and he

  who threw him, only to be

  thrown in turn, losing

  the third fall, he

  is gone, too, past and gone.

  But he who sings glad praise

  of Zeus’ victory

  strikes to the heart of knowledge:

  For it was Zeus who set

  Strophe 3

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  men on the path to wisdom

  when he decreed the fixed

  law that suffering

  alone shall be their teacher.

  Even in sleep pain drips

  down through the heart as fear,

  all night, as memory.

  We learn unwillingly.

  From the high bench of the gods

  by violence, it seems, grace comes.

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  And then the older of the two

  Antistrophe 3

  kings of the Achaean ships,

  not blaming the prophet, let

  his spirit blow with the hard

  winds of luck that blew

  in against him when the host

  was held fast in port

  at Aulis on the shore

  opposite Chalcis, where

  the tides crash to and fro,

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  their food stores dwindling,

  winds from the Strymon driving against them,

  Strophe 4

  battering ships, and bringing hunger,

  illness, and a dull, undistracted

  leisure to the men who wandered,

  neglectful of ship and cable, who

  by doing nothing doubled the time

  of the delay, the flower of Argos

  all wasting away now, withering.

  And when the seer cried Artemis was

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  behind this, and showed the kings

  a salve more hateful than the storm,

  so that the Atreidae threw down

  their staves against the ground and wept,

  the older prince spoke out before them:

  Antistrophe 4

  “My fate is heavy either way:

  heavy if I refuse to obey,

  and heavy too if I kill my child,

  pride of my house, staining these father’s

  hands with streams of maiden blood

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  spilled at the altar. Which way is free

  from evil? Can I desert my ships?

  Fail all my allies? For in the eyes

  of heaven, that they, with too eager passion,

  should crave a sacrifice, even

  of maiden blood, to still the winds,

  is right. May it all be for the best.”

  And when he secured the yoke-strap

  Strophe 5

  of necessity fast upon him,

  yielding his swerving spirit up

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  to a reckless blast, vile and unholy,

  from then on he was changed, his will

  annealed now to mere ruthlessness.

  For men are made bold in the throes

  of madness urging evil, in love

  with cruelty, courting sure disaster.

  And so he steeled himself into

  the sacrificer of his daughter

  to quicken a war waged for a woman

  with an early offering for his ships.

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  And all her prayers, her cries of Father,

  Antistrophe 5

  Father, even her girlhood, counted

  for less than nothing to the captains

  frenzied for battle, and her father,

  after praying, though she clasped

  his knees, begged him with all her heart,

  ordered his men to lift her like

  a goat, face downward, above the altar,

  robes falling all around her, and

  he had her mouth gagged, the bit yanked

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  roughly, stifling a cry that would

  have brought a curse down on the house.

  And with her saffron robe streaming

  Strophe 6

  down from her shoulders to the ground,

  with pitiful arrows from her eyes

  she shot each sacrificer, vivid

  as in a picture, wanting to speak,

  to call each one by name, for often

  at the rich feast in her father’s halls

  the girl had sung before the men

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  and
with the pure voice of a virgin,

  at the third libation, lovingly

  had given honor to her loving

  father’s paean for healing luck.

  What happened next I neither know

  Antistrophe 6

  nor speak. The art of Calchas does not fail

  to reach fulfillment. And Justice tilts

  the scales to ensure that suffering

  is the only teacher. As for the Future,

  you will only learn it when it comes.

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  Till then, leave it alone. Pointless

  to grieve before there’s reason to.

  All will come clear when the dawn comes.

  The doors of the palace open, and during the following

  lines CLYTEMNESTRA and her attendants enter.

  So, may what comes from this be good,

  be as this nearest, only breast-

  work of our Apian land might wish.

  CHORUS LEADER (turning to address Clytemnestra) Obedient to your

  power, Clytemnestra,

  I’ve come straight here: when the king’s gone it’s right

  to honor the wife who keeps the throne for him.

  Whether or not it’s good news you have heard,

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  or offer sacrifice in hope of good news,

  I’d like to learn, though I won’t grudge your silence.

  CLYTEMNESTRA May good news only, as the saying goes,

  be born with the dawn that’s born from mother Night.

  The joy I have to tell you outruns all hope.

  The city of Priam is in Argive hands.

  CHORUS LEADER Have I heard you right? Your words outrun belief.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Achaeans hold Troy now. Is that clear enough?

  CHORUS LEADER Joy overwhelms me, swelling my eyes with tears.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Yes, and your eye attests your loyal heart.

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  CHORUS LEADER What proof, though, is there? Your trust is based on what?

  CLYTEMNESTRA Of course I have proof, if no god has fooled me.

  CHORUS LEADER Are you persuaded by some dream you’ve had?

  CLYTEMNESTRA I give no credence to a sleeping mind.

  CHORUS LEADER Or some vague rumor on which your hope has fed?

  CLYTEMNESTRA Do you scorn my thinking as you would a girl’s?

  CHORUS LEADER But when exactly? When was the city taken?

  CYLTEMNESTRA Last night, the mother of the light we see.

  CHORUS LEADER What kind of messenger could come so fast?

  CYLTEMNESTRA Hephaestus, flashing a bright flame down from Ida.

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  Beacon to beacon, the fire ran homeward, first

  shining above the island, till another shone

  from Ida to the rock of Hermes in Lemnos,

  on the crag of Zeus on Athos, then another

  went soaring out across the arching sea—

  unflagging, restless, torch after powerful torch;

  the pine now like a sunrise in the dead

  of night flared jubilantly to the watchtower

  on Mt. Macistus who, in turn, never delayed,

  or gave in heedlessly to sleep, so never

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  failed his duty, as the fiery current

  ran on unbroken, signaling from afar,

  over the waters of Euripus, to

  the sentinels upon Messapion.

  And they too answered light with light,

  setting a bonfire of gray brushwood blazing.

  It never dimmed, the flame, or slowed, for now

  it overleaped the plains of the Asopus,

  bright as a full moon, to Cithaeron’s rock,

  where yet another convoy was ignited.

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  And far ahead of them the watchmen sent

  the light that they received from far behind,

  burning a brighter blaze than was commanded;

  light shimmered in the water as it passed

  over the Gorgon Face, from shore to shore,

  and at the mountain of the wandering goats

  forged new links in the chain of fire, the men there

  gathering so much kindling together

  that a high beard of flame now passed beyond

  the headland that looks out across the gulf

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  of Saron till at last it plunged all the way

  to Arachne’s peak, the watch nearest the city.

  From there it swooped down on the royal house,

  this flame descendent of the fire of Ida.

  This is the course of torchbearers I arranged;

  each carrying the relay from the one before,

  and everyone victorious from the first

  to last. This is the evidence and sign

  of the news my husband sends to me from Troy.

  CHORUS LEADER Soon, lady, I’ll give the gods my thanks.

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  But this tale of yours fills me with so much wonder

  that I would have you tell it once again,

  through to the end, till all my wonder’s gone.

  CLYTEMNESTRA The Achaeans hold Troy in their hands today.

  The city, I think, rings with a sharp clash

  of cries that will not blend. Pour vinegar

  and oil in one bowl, and you would say

  the two like enemies shun one another;

  just so you could tell the conquered from

  the conquerors, each crying their different fates

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  in different voices. Here are the Trojans bending

  down over the bodies of their husbands,

  brothers; children embracing fathers, and fathers

  children, all wailing in voices no longer free

  for the loved ones they will never hold again.

  And here the Achaeans, spurred on by the work

  that sends them wandering all night, after

  the fighting’s over, their hunger now unstrictured,

  under no one’s orders, foraging

  for whatever grub they stumble on,

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  taking what quarters chance puts in their way.

  And even now they bed down in the houses

  that their spears have taken, free of the frost and dew,

  the open sky, sleeping the sleep of men

  the gods protect, all night, without a watch.

  Now if they only reverence the gods

  that keep the city, the shrines and holy temples

  of the conquered land, then they, the vanquishers,

  might not be vanquished in their turn. Let no

  unholy passion overwhelm them, taken

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  by greed to ravage what should be left alone.

  For they must still win their safe passage back

  all down the homestretch of the double course.

  Yet even if the army should return

  without offending any god, even

  if they don’t waken the anger of the dead

  for what was done to them, yes, even then

  some unseen trouble may still lie in wait.

  This is my woman’s tale. But may the good

  win out completely for all men to see.

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  Of all the blessings whose enjoyment I

  now pray for, this one surely is the best.

  CHORUS LEADER Well said, lady. Like a wise man.

  Since I have heard your evidence, I’m ready

  to offer thanks up to the gods. Our joy

  today is equal to the pain that made it.

  CLYTEMNESTRA exits into the palace.

  CHORUS O Zeus, high one, and kindly Night,

  holder of all

  the brightest glories over us,

  you who cast down over the towers

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  of Troy the smothering mesh, seamless,

  so that in no way could the old

  or young slip free
r />   of the enslaving wide net of

  all-conquering destruction. I stand

  in awe of great

  Zeus, lord of host and guest, who has

  accomplished this, had slowly all

  along been bending back his bow

  on Alexander, so that his bolt

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  should not fall short

  of the mark nor fly beyond the stars.

  Let them speak of a stroke from Zeus;

  Strophe 1

  that much can be traced, at least.

  What he decides, he accomplishes.

  Impiety to say, as some have,

  that no god ever deigns to see

  to those who trample underfoot

  the grace of things untouchable.

  The punishment for reckless daring

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  will be revealed to the descendents

  of the ones whose pride blows boundless, whose house

  abounds with riches far beyond

  what’s best. May I have wealth

  without the taint of trouble, enough

  to satisfy a man of sense.

  For no gold’s blinding glitter

  protects him who heedlessly

  kicks the high altar of Justice

  over out of sight.

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  Rapt by miserable Persuasion,

  Antistrophe 1

  the irresistible daughter of

  Destruction, who decides before-

  hand, the guilty man’s whipped on, there’s

  no antidote, the evil now

  shines candidly its garish light.

  Like bad bronze blackening when handled

  or rubbed, so he too, when brought to justice

  shows the black grain of his being

  and, foolish as a boy who runs

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  after a flying bird, brings down

  against his city a wasting plague.

  His fervent prayers will go unheard