Chapter XL: Act V

_Messenger_ [_entering_]: Oh, cruel fate, Oh, piteous, horrible!
What sight so fell and bloody have we seen
In ten long years of war? Between thy woes,
Andromache, and thine, O Hecuba,
I halt, and know not which to weep the more.

_Hecuba:_ Weep whosesoe'er thou wilt--thou weepest mine. 1060
While others bow beneath their single cares,
I feel the weight of all. All die to me;
Whatever grief there is, is Hecuba's.

_Messenger:_ The maid is slain, the boy dashed from the walls.
But each has met his death with royal soul.

_Andromache:_ Expound the deed in order, and display 1065
The twofold crime. My mighty grief is fain
To hear the gruesome narrative entire.
Begin thy tale, and tell it as it was.

_Messenger:_ One lofty tower of fallen Troy is left,
Well known to Priam, on whose battlements
He used to sit and view his warring hosts. 1070
Here in his arms his grandson he would hold
With kind embrace, and bid the lad admire
His father's warlike deeds upon the field,
Where Hector, armed with fire and sword, pursued
The frightened Greeks. Around this lofty tower 1075
Which lately stood, the glory of the walls,
But now a lonely crag, the people pour,
A motley, curious throng of high and low.
For some, a distant hill gives open view;
While others seek a cliff, upon whose edge 1080
The crowd in tiptoed expectation stand.
The beech tree, laurel, pine, each has its load;
The whole wood bends beneath its human fruit.
One climbs a smouldering roof; unto another
A crumbling wall precarious footing gives; 1085
While others (shameless!) stand on Hector's tomb.
Now through the thronging crowd with stately tread
Ulysses makes his way, and by the hand
He leads the little prince of Ilium.
With equal pace the lad approached the wall; 1090
But when he reached the lofty battlement,
He stood and gazed around with dauntless soul.
And as the savage lion's tender young,
Its fangless jaws, all powerless to harm,
Still snaps with helpless wrath and swelling heart; 1095
So he, though held in that strong foeman's grasp,
Stood firm, defiant. Then the crowd of men,
And leaders, and Ulysses' self, were moved.
But he alone wept not of all the throng
Who wept for him. And now Ulysses spake
In priestly wise the words of fate, and prayed, 1100
And summoned to the rite the savage gods;
When suddenly, on self-destruction bent,
The lad sprang o'er the turret's edge, and plunged
Into the depths below.--

_Andromache:_ What Colchian, what wandering Scythian,
What lawless race that dwells by Caspia's sea 1105
Could do or dare a crime so hideous?
No blood of helpless children ever stained
Busiris' altars, monster though he was;
Nor did the horses of the Thracian king
E'er feed on tender limbs. Where is my boy?
Who now will take and lay him in the tomb? 1110

_Messenger:_ Alas, my lady, how can aught remain
From such a fall, but broken, scattered bones,
Dismembered limbs, and all those noble signs
In face and feature of his royal birth,
Confused and crushed upon the ragged ground?
Who was thy son lies now a shapeless corse. 1115

_Andromache:_ Thus also is he like his noble sire.

_Messenger:_ When headlong from the tower the lad had sprung,
And all the Grecian throng bewailed the crime
Which it had seen and done; that selfsame throng
Returned to witness yet another crime 1120
Upon Achilles' tomb. The seaward side
Is beaten by Rhoeteum's lapping waves;
While on the other sides a level space,
And rounded, gently sloping hills beyond,
Encompass it, and make a theater.
Here rush the multitude and fill the place 1125
With eager throngs. A few rejoice that now
Their homeward journey's long delay will end,
And that another prop of fallen Troy
Is stricken down. But all the common herd
Look on in silence at the crime they hate.
The Trojans, too, attend the sacrifice, 1130
And wait with quaking hearts the final scene
Of Ilium's fall. When suddenly there shone
The gleaming torches of the wedding march;
And, as the bride's attendant, Helen came
With drooping head. Whereat the Trojans prayed:
"Oh, may Hermione be wed like this, 1135
With bloody rites; like this may Helena
Return unto her lord." Then numbing dread
Seized Greeks and Trojans all, as they beheld
The maid. She walked with downcast, modest eyes,
But on her face a wondrous beauty glowed
In flaming splendor, as the setting sun
Lights up the sky with beams more beautiful, 1140
When day hangs doubtful on the edge of night.
All gazed in wonder. Some her beauty moved,
And some her tender age and hapless fate;
But all, her dauntless courage in the face 1145
Of death. Behind the maid grim Pyrrhus came;
And as they looked, the souls of all were filled
With quaking terror, pity, and amaze.
But when she reached the summit of the mound
And stood upon the lofty sepulcher, 1150
Still with unfaltering step the maid advanced.
And now she turned her to the stroke of death
With eyes so fierce and fearless that she smote
The hearts of all, and, wondrous prodigy,
E'en Pyrrhus' bloody hand was slow to strike.
But soon, his right hand lifted to the stroke, 1155
He drove the weapon deep within her breast;
And straight from that deep wound the blood burst forth
In sudden streams. But still the noble maid
Did not give o'er her bold and haughty mien,
Though in the act of death. For in her fall
She smote the earth with angry violence,
As if to make it heavy for the dead.
Then flowed the tears of all. The Trojans groaned 1160
With secret woe, since fear restrained their tongues;
But openly the victors voiced their grief.
And now the savage rite was done. The blood
Stood not upon the ground, nor flowed away;
But downward all its ruddy stream was sucked,
As if the tomb were thirsty for the draught.

_Hecuba:_ Now go, ye Greeks, and seek your homes in peace. 1165
With spreading sails your fleet in safety now
May cleave the welcome sea; the maid and boy
Are slain, the war is done. Oh, whither now
Shall I betake me in my wretchedness?
Where spend this hateful remnant of my life?
My daughter or my grandson shall I mourn, 1170
My husband, country--or myself alone?
O death, my sole desire, for boys and maids
Thou com'st with hurried step and savage mien;
But me alone of mortals dost thou fear
And shun; through all that dreadful night of Troy,
I sought thee 'midst the swords and blazing brands, 1175
But all in vain my search. No cruel foe,
Nor crumbling wall, nor blazing fire, could give
The death I sought. And yet how near I stood
To agéd Priam's side when he was slain!

_Messenger:_ Ye captives, haste you to the winding shore;
The sails are spread, our long delay is o'er.

AGAMEMNON

AGAMEMNON

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

_Agamemnon_ King of Argos, and leader of all the Greeks in their war against Troy.

_Ghost of Thyestes_ Returned to earth to urge on his son to the vengeance which he was born to accomplish.

_Aegisthus_ Son of Thyestes by an incestuous union with his daughter; paramour of Clytemnestra.

_Clytemnestra_ Wife of Agamemnon, who has been plotting with Aegisthus against her husband, in his absence at Troy.

_Chorus_ Of Argive women.

_Eurybates_ Messenger of Agamemnon.

_Cassandra_ Daughter of Priam, captive of Agamemnon.

_Electra_ Daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.

_Strophius_ King of Phocis.

_Orestes_ Son of Agamemnon (_persona muta_).

_Pylades_ Son of Strophius (_persona muta_).

_Band_ Of captive Trojan women.

THE SCENE is laid partly within and partly without the palace of Agamemnon at Argos or Mycenae, on the day of the return of the king from his long absence at Troy, beginning in the period of darkness just preceding the dawn.

_The blood-feud between Atreus and Thyestes was not ended with the terrible vengeance which Atreus wreaked upon his brother. It was yet in fate that Thyestes should live to beget upon his own daughter a son, Aegisthus, who should slay Atreus and bring ruin and death upon the great Atrides, Agamemnon._

_The Trojan war is done. And now the near approach of the victorious king, bringing his captives and treasure home to Argos, has been announced. But little does he dream to what a home he is returning. For Clytemnestra, enraged at Agamemnon because he had sacrificed her daughter Iphigenia at Aulis to appease the winds, and full of jealousy because he brings Cassandra as her rival home, estranged also by the long-continued absence of her lord, but most estranged by her own guilty union with Aegisthus, is now plotting to slay Agamemnon on his return, gaining thus at once revenge and safety from his wrath._