O Zeus my king and Night, dear Night,
queen of the house who covers us with glories
you slung your net on the towers of Troy, neither young
nor strong could leap the giant dredge net of slavery, all-embracing ruin.
I adore you, iron Zeus of the guests 365 and your revenge -
you drew your longbow
year by year to a taut full draw till one bolt,
not falling short or arching over the stars, could split the mark of Paris!
The sky stroke of god! - it is all Troy's to tell, but even
I can trace it to its cause: god does as god decrees.
And still some say that heaven would never stoop to punish men
who trample the lovely grace of things untouchable. How wrong they are!
A curse burns bright on crime -full-blown, the father's crimes will blossom, burst into the son's.
AGAMEMNON
Let there be less suffering ... give us the sense to live on what we need.
Bastions of wealth are no defence for the man
who treads the grand altar of justice
down and out of sight.
Persuasion, maddening child of Ruin overpowers him -
Ruin plans it all. And the wound will smoulder on,
there is no cure,
a terrible brilliance kindles on the night He is bad bronze scraped on a touchstone:
put to the test, the man goes black.
Like the boy who chases a bird on the wing, brands his city,
brings it down and prays, but the gods are deaf to the one who turns to crime, they tear him down.
So Paris learned:
he came to Atreus' house
and shamed the tables spread for guests, he stole away the queen.
And she left her land chaos, clanging shields,
companions tramping, bronze prows, men in bronze,
and she came to Troy with a dowry, d**h,
strode through the gates
defiant in every stride, as prophets of the house looked on and wept,
'Oh the halls and the lords of war,
the bed and the fresh prints of love.
I see him, unavenging, unavenged, the stun of his desolation is so clear -
he longs for the one who lies across the sea until her phantom seems to sway the house.