A grey word liveth, from the morn Of old time among mortals spoken, That man’s Wealth waxen full shall fall Not childless, but get sons withal; And ever of great bliss is born A tear unstanched and a heart broken. But I hold my thought alone and by others unbeguiled; ’Tis the deed that is unholy shall have issue, child on child, Sin on sin, like his begetters; and they shall be as they were. But the man who walketh straight, and the house thereof, tho’ Fate Exalt him, the children shall be fair. _(It is Sin, it is Pride and Ruthlessness, that beget children like themselves till Justice is fulfilled upon them.)_ But Old Sin loves, when comes the hour again, To bring forth New, Which laugheth lusty amid the tears of men; Yea, and Unruth, his comrade, wherewith none May plead nor strive, which dareth on and on, Knowing not fear nor any holy thing; Two fires of darkness in a house, born true, Like to their ancient spring. But Justice shineth in a house low-wrought With smoke-stained wall, And honoureth him who filleth his own lot; But the unclean hand upon the golden stair With eyes averse she flieth, seeking where Things innocent are; and, recking not the power Of wealth by man misgloried, guideth all To her own destined hour. [_Here amid a great procession enter_ AGAMEMNON _on a Chariot. Behind him on another Chariot is_ CASSANDRA. _The_ CHORUS _approach and make obeisance. Some of_ AGAMEMNON’S _men have on their shields a White Horse, some a Lion. Their arms are rich and partly barbaric_.] LEADER. All hail, O King! Hail, Atreus’ Son! Sacker of Cities! Ilion’s bane! With what high word shall I greet thee again, How give thee worship, and neither outrun The point of pleasure, nor stint too soon? For many will cling. To fair seeming The faster because they have sinned erewhile; And a man may sigh with never a sting Of grief in his heart, and a man may smile With eyes unlit and a lip that strains. But the wise Shepherd knoweth his sheep, And his eyes pierce deep The faith like water that fawns and feigns. But I hide nothing, O King. That day When in quest of Helen our battle array Hurled forth, thy name upon my heart’s scroll Was deep in letters of discord writ; And the ship of thy soul, Ill-helmed and blindly steered was it, Pursuing ever, through men that die, One wild heart that was fain to fly. But on this new day, From the deep of my thought and in love, I say “Sweet is a grief well ended;” And in time’s flow Thou wilt learn and know The true from the false, Of them that were left to guard the walls Of thine empty Hall unfriended. [_During the above_ CLYTEMNESTRA _has appeared on the Palace steps, with a train of Attendants, to receive her Husband_.]