O Zeus, is there mercy? What struggle of doom
Cometh fraught with death-danger,
Thrusting thee onward, the wretched, on whom
The Erinnys-avenger
Heapeth tears upon tears, and the blood hath she brought
Of thy mother upon thee
And thine house, that it driveth thee frenzy-distraught!
I bemoan thee, bemoan thee!
Not among men doth fair fortune abide,340
But, as sail tempest-riven,
Is it whelmed in affliction's death-ravening tide
By the malice of heaven,—
Nay, abides not, for where shall I find me a line
Of more honour in story
Than Tantalus' house, from espousals divine
That traceth its glory?
But lo, hither cometh a prince, meseems—
Menelaus the king! for his vesture, that gleams
In splendour exceeding,350
The blood of the Tantalid House reveals.
Hail, thou who didst sail with a thousand keels
Unto Asia speeding!
Hail to thee, dweller with fortune fair,
Who hast gained of the Gods' grace all thy prayer!
Enter Menelaus, with attendants.
Menelaus.
All hail, mine home. I see thee half with joy,
From Troy returned, and half with grief behold:
For never saw I other house ere this
