Agamemnon

Aeschylus

Aeschylus, Volume 2. Smyth, Herbert Weir, translator. London; New York: William Heinemann; G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1926.

  1. since he has uprooted Troy with the mattock of Zeus the Avenger, with which her soil has been uptorn. Demolished are the altars and the shrines of her gods; and the seed of her whole land has been wasted utterly. Upon the neck of Troy he has cast such a yoke.
  2. Now he has come home, our king, Atreus’ elder son, a man of happy fate, worthy of honor beyond all living men. For neither Paris nor his partner city can boast that the deed was greater than the suffering. Convicted for robbery and for theft as well,
  3. he has lost the plunder and has razed in utter destruction his father’s house and even the land. The sons of Priam have paid a twofold penalty for their sins.
Chorus
  1. Joy to you, Herald from the Achaean host!
Herald
  1. I do rejoice. I will no longer refuse to die, if that pleases the gods.
Chorus
  1. Was it yearning for this your fatherland that wore you out?
Herald
  1. Yes, so that my eyes are filled with tears for joy.
Chorus
  1. It was then a pleasing malady from which you suffered.
Herald
  1. How so? Teach me, and I shall master what you say.
Chorus
  1. You were smitten with desire for those who returned your love.
Herald
  1. Do you mean that our land longed for the longing host?
Chorus
  1. Longed so, that often from a darkly brooding spirit I have sighed.
Herald
  1. Where did this gloom of melancholy upon your spirit come from?
Chorus
  1. Long since have I found silence an antidote to harm.
Herald
  1. How so? Did you fear anyone when our princes were gone?
Chorus
  1. In such fear that now, in your own words, even death would be great joy.
Herald
  1. Yes, all’s well, well ended. Yet, of what occurred in the long years, one might well say that part fell out happily, and part in turn amiss. But who, unless he is a god, is free from suffering all his days?
  2. For were I to recount our hardships and our wretched quarters, the scanty space and the sorry berths——what did we not have to complain of . . . [*](For λαχόντες in l. 557 numerous emendations have been proposed, e.g. κλαίοντες, λάσκοντες, χαλῶντες. ἤματος μέρος probably means as our day’s portion.)Then again, ashore, there was still worse to loathe; for we had to lie down close to the enemy’s walls,
  3. and the drizzling from the sky and the dews from the meadows distilled upon us, working constant destruction to our clothes and filling our hair with vermin. And if one were to tell of the wintry cold, past all enduring, when Ida’s snow slew the birds;
  4. or of the heat, when upon his waveless noonday couch, windless the sea sank to sleep—but why should we bewail all this? Our labor’s past; past for the dead so that they will never care even to wake to life again.