Now, lucky be deliverance from these labours,At good news — the appearing dusky fire!O hail, thou lamp of night, a day-long lightnessRevealing, and of dances the ordainment!Halloo, halloo!To Agamemnon’s wife I show, by shouting,That, from bed starting up at once, i’ the householdJoyous acclaim, good-omened to this torch-blaze,She send aloft, if haply Ilion’s cityBe taken, as the beacon boasts announcing.Ay, and, for me, myself will dance a prelude,For, that my masters’ dice drop right, I’ll reckon:Since thrice-six has it thrown to me, this signal.Well, may it hap that, as he comes, the loved handO’ the household’s lord I may sustain with this hand!As for the rest, I’m mute: on tongue a big oxHas trodden. Yet this House, if voice it take should,Most plain would speak. So, willing I myself speakTo those who know: to who know not — I’m blankness. CHOROS.The tenth year this, since Priamos’ great match,