WATCHMAN:
Dear gods, set me free from all the pain,
the long watch I keep, one whole year awake...
propped on my arms, crouched on the roofs of Atreus like a dog.
I know the stars by heart, the armies of the night, and there in the lead
the ones that bring us snow or the crops of summer,
bring us all we have -our great blazing kings of the sky,
I know them, when they rise and when they fall and now
I watch for the light, the signal-fire
breaking out of Troy, shouting Troy is taken.
So she commands, full of her high hopes.
That woman -she manoeuvres like a man.
And when I keep to my bed, soaked in dew,
and the thoughts go groping through the night
and the good dreams that used to guard my sleep...
not here, it's the old comrade, terror, at my neck.
I mustn't sleep, no-
Shaking himself awake.
Look alive, sentry.
And I try to pick out tunes, I hum a little,
a good cure for sleep, and the tears start,
I cry for the hard times come to the house,
no longer run like the great place of old.
Oh for a blessed end to all our pain,
some godsend burning through the dark-
[Light appears slowly in the east;
he struggles to his feet and scans it.]
I salute you! You dawn of the darkness, you turn night to day-
I see the light at last.
They'll be dancing in the streets of Argos thanks to you, thanks to this new stroke of-
Aieeeeee! There's your signal clear and true, my queen! Rise up from bed - hurry, lift a cry of triumph
through the house, praise the gods for the beacon, if they've taken Troy...
But there it burns, fire all the way. I'm for the morning dances. Master's luck is mine. A throw of the torch has brought us triple-sixes -
we have won!
My move now-
[Beginning to dance, then breaking off, lost in thought.]
Just bring him home. My king, I'll take your loving hand in mine and then... the rest is
silence. The ox is on my tongue. Aye, but the house and these old stones,
give them a voice and what a tale they'd tell.
And so would I, gladly... I speak to those who know; to those who don't my mind's a blank. I
never say a word.
He climbs down from the roof and disappears into the palace through a side entrance. A
chorus, the old men of Argos who have not learned the news of victory, enters and marches
round the altar.