HERALD. Not well it suits to blot With black rehearsal this auspicious day. Far from the honors of the blissful gods[n52] Be grief's recital. When with gloomy visage An ugly tale the herald's voice unfolds, At once a general wound, and private grief, {61} An army lost, the sons of countless houses Death-doomed by the double scourge so dear to Ares,[f18] A twin-speared harm, a yoke of crimson slaughter: A herald saddled with such woes may sing A pæan to the Erinnyes. But I, Who to this city blithe and prosperous Brought the fair news of Agamemnon's safety, How shall I mingle bad with good, rehearsing The wintry wrath sent by the gods to whelm us? Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,[n53] Made friendly league to sweep the Achæan host With swift destruction pitiless. Forth rushed The tyrannous Thracian blasts, and wave chased wave, Fierce 'neath the starless night, and ship on ship Struck clashing; beak on butting beak was driven; The puffing blast, the beat of boiling billows, The whirling gulph (an evil pilot) wrapt them In sightless death. And when the shining sun Shone forth again, we see the Ægean tide Strewn with the purple blossoms of the dead, And wrecks of shattered ships. Us and our bark Some god, no man, the storm-tost hull directing, Hath rescued scathless, stealing us from the fray, Or with a prayer begging our life from Fate. Kind Fortune helmed us further, safely kept From yeasty ferment in the billowy bay, Nor dashed on far-ledged rocks. Thus having 'scaped That ocean hell,[n54] scarce trusting our fair fortune, We hailed the lucid day; but could we hope, The chance that saved ourselves had saved our friends? Our fearful hearts with thoughts of them we fed, Far-labouring o'er the loosely-driving main.[n55] And doubtless they, if yet live breath they breathe, Deem so of us, as we must fear of them, That they have perished. But I hope the best. And first and chief expect ye the return Of Menelaus. If the sun's blest ray Yet looks on him, where he beholds the day By Jove's devising,[n56] not yet willing wholly To uproot the race of Atreus, hope may be He yet returns. Thou hast my tale; and I Have told the truth untinctured with a lie. [_Exit_. {62}