And the whole land’s seed thoroughly has perished.And such a yoke-strap having cast round Troia,The elder king Atreides, happy man — heComes to be honoured, worthiest of what mortalsNow are. Nor Paris nor the accomplice-cityOutvaunts their deed as more than they are done-by:For, in a suit for rape and theft found guilty,He missed of plunder and, in one destruction,Fatherland, house and home has mowed to atoms:Debts the Priamidai have paid twice over. CHOROS.Hail, herald from the army of Achaians!HERALD.I hail: — to die, will gainsay gods no longer!CHOROS.Love of this fatherland did exercise thee?HERALD.So that I weep, at least, with joy, my eyes full.CHOROS.What, of this gracious sickness were ye gainers?HERALD.How now? instructed, I this speech shall master.