Calls thee on thy behoof no less than hers,
Thy sons withal; for these must also hear
Her words." The burial of Polyxena
Late-slaughtered, Agamemnon, thou delay:895
So sister joined with brother in one flame,
A mother's double grief, shall be entombed.
Agamemnon.
So shall it be: yet, might the host but sail,
No power had I to grant this grace to thee:
But, seeing God sends no fair-following winds,900
Needs must we tarry watching idle sails.
Now fair befall: for all men's weal is this,—
Each several man's, and for the state,—that ill
Betide the bad, prosperity the good.
Chorus.
O my fatherland, Ilium, thou art named no more
Mid burgs unspoiled,
Such a battle-cloud lightening spears enshrouds thee o'er,
All round thee coiled!
Thou art piteously shorn of thy brows' tower-diadem,910
And smirched with stain
Of the reek; and thy streetways—my feet shall not tread them,
Ah me, again!
At the midnight my doom lighted on me, when sleep shed
O'er eyes sweet rain,
When from sacrifice-dance and from hushed songs on his bed
My lord had lain,
