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,Narrow deckways ill-strewn, too, — what the day’s woeWe did not groan at getting for our portion?As for land-things, again, on went more hatred!Since beds were ours hard by the foemen’s ramparts,