ANTISTROPHE III. 'Twas said of old, and 'tis said to-day, That wealth to prosperous stature grown Begets a birth of its own: That a surfeit of evil by good is prepared, {64} And sons must bear what allotment of woe Their sires were spared. But this I rebel to believe: I know That impious deeds conspire To beget an offspring of impious deeds Too like their ugly sire. But whoso is lust, though his wealth like a river Flow down, shall be scathless: his house shall rejoice In an offspring of beauty for ever. STROPHE IV. The heart of the haughty delights to beget A haughty heart.[n61] From time to time In children's children recurrent appears The ancestral crime. When the dark hour comes that the gods have decreed, And the Fury burns with wrathful fires, A demon unholy, with ire unabated, Lies like black night on the halls of the fated: And the recreant son plunges guiltily on To perfect the guilt of his sires. ANTISTROPHE IV. But Justice shines in a lowly cell; In the homes of poverty, smoke-begrimed, With the sober-minded she loves to dwell. But she turns aside From the rich man's house with averted eye, The golden-fretted halls of pride Where hands with lucre are foul, and the praise Of counterfeit goodness smoothly sways: And wisely she guides in the strong man's despite All things to an issue of RIGHT. CHORUS. But, hail the king! the city-taking Seed of Atreus' race. How shall I accost thee! How With beseeming reverence greet thee? Nor above the mark, nor sinking Beneath the line of grace? Many of mortal men there be, 'Gainst the rule of right preferring Seeming to substance; tears are free In the eye when woe its tale rehearseth, But the sting of sorrow pierceth {65} No man's liver; many force Lack-laughter faces to relax Into the soft lines traced by joy. But the shepherd true and wise Knows the faithless man, whose eyes, With a forward friendship twinkling, Fawn with watery love.[n62] For me, I nothing hide. O King, In my fancy's picturing, From the Muses far I deemed thee, And thy soul not wisely helming When thou drew'st the knife For Helen's sake, a woman, whelming Thousands in ruin, rushing rashly On unwelcome strife. But now all's well. No shallow smiles We wear for thee, thy weary toils All finished. Thou shalt know anon What friends do serve thee truly, And who in thy long absence used Their stewardship unduly. [_Enter_ AGAMEMNON. _with attendants_; CASSANDRA _behind_.