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.CHOROS.For those who loved you back, with longing stricken.HERALD.This land yearned for the yearning army, say’st thou?CHOROS.So as to set me oft, from dark mind, groaning.HERALD.Whence came this ill mind — hatred to the army?CHOROS.Of old, I use, for mischiefs physic, silence.HERALD.And how, the chiefs away, did you fear any?CHOROS.So that now, — late thy word, — much joy were — dying!HERALD.For well have things been worked out: these, — in much time,Some of them, one might say, had luck in falling,While some were faulty: since who, gods excepted,Goes, through the whole time of his life, ungrieving?For labours should I tell of, and bad lodgments,