Yea, and man’s hate tells of another, even Scylla of murderous guile, Who slew for an enemy’s sake her father, won o’er by the wile And the gifts of Cretan Minos, the gauds of the high-wrought gold; For she clipped from her father’s head the lock that should never wax old, As he breathed in the silence of sleep, and knew not her craft and her crime— But Hermes, the guard of the dead, doth grasp her, in fulness of time. And since of the crimes of the cruel I tell, let my singing record The bitter wedlock and loveless, the curse on these halls outpoured, The crafty device of a woman, whereby did a chieftain fall, A warrior stern in his wrath; the fear of his enemies all,— A song of dishonour, untimely! and cold is the hearth that was warm And ruled by the cowardly spear, the woman’s unwomanly arm. But the summit and crown of all crimes is that which in Lemnos befell; A woe and a mourning it is, a shame and a spitting to tell; And he that in after time doth speak of his deadliest thought, Doth say, _It is like to the deed that of old time in Lemnos was wrought_; And loathed of men were the doers, and perished, they and their seed, For the gods brought hate upon them; none loveth the impious deed. It is well of these tales to tell; for the sword in the grasp of Right With a cleaving, a piercing blow to the innermost heart doth smite, And the deed unlawfully done is not trodden down nor forgot, When the sinner out-steppeth the law and heedeth the high God not; But Justice hath planted the anvil, and Destiny forgeth the sword That shall smite in her chosen time; by her is the child restored; And, darkly devising, the Fiend of the house, world-cursed, will repay The price of the blood of the slain that was shed in the bygone day. [_Enter Orestes and Pylades, in guise of travellers_. ORESTES (_knocking at the palace gate_) What ho! slave, ho! I smite the palace gate In vain, it seems; what ho, attend within,— Once more, attend; come forth and ope the halls, If yet Aegisthus holds them hospitable. SLAVE (_from within_) Anon, anon! [_Opens the door._ Speak, from what land art thou, and sent from whom? ORESTES Go, tell to them who rule the palace-halls, Since ’tis to them I come with tidings new— (Delay not—Night’s dark car is speeding on, And time is now for wayfarers to cast Anchor in haven, wheresoe’er a house Doth welcome strangers)—that there now come forth Some one who holds authority within— The queen, or, if some man, more seemly were it; For when man standeth face to face with man, No stammering modesty confounds their speech, But each to each doth tell his meaning clear. [_Enter Clytemnestra_. CLYTEMNESTRA Speak on, O strangers; have ye need of aught? Here is whate’er beseems a house like this— Warm bath and bed, tired Nature’s soft restorer, And courteous eyes to greet you; and if aught Of graver import needeth act as well, That, as man’s charge, I to a man will tell.