Oblique from her soft eye the dart
Preyed sweetly on the inmost heart,
Making love's flower its tenderest bloom unfold.
So changing with the changing hours
That wedlock brought her to a bitter end,
A cruel sister, and a cruel friend,
To Priam's daughters in their chamber bowers:
By Hospitable Jove sent in his ire,
No tender bride, rather a Fury dark and dire."
And still the burden is repeated. Wealth brings a misery that never dies, but breeds a brood of evils ever growing. Beneath the quiet cottage-roof dwells Justice, and "decent life flows peaceful on;" but over the gilded palace is spread the funeral pall of Atè.
Agamemnon enters.
Earthly greatness and triumph are at their height, as the chief returns, with chariots and retinue, to his palace. The Chorus welcome him as he deserves:—
"Hail, king of Atreus' race renowned,
Who Troy hast levelled with the ground!
How to address thee—how adore;"
but they are anxious to observe a safe moderation in their congratulations;—
"Nor with exceeding praise run o'er,
Nor turning short, pass by too light
The mark and standard of thy might."
They confess that at first his enterprise seemed rash, but now success has justified his daring. Time always reveals true wisdom.
