CLYTEMNESTRA. My sentence thou hast spoken; shameful flight, The citizens' hate, the people's vengeful curse: For him thou hast no curse, the bloody man Who, when the fleecy flocks innumerous pastured, Passed the brute by, and sacrificed my child, My best-beloved, fruit of my throes, to lull The Thracian blasts asleep. Why did thy wrath, In righteous guerdon of this foulest crime, Not chase this man from Greece? A greedy ear And a harsh tongue thou hast for me alone. But mark my words,[n90] threats I repay with threats; If that thou canst subdue me in fair fight, Subdue me; but if Jove for me decide, Thou shalt be wise, when wisdom comes too late. ANTISTROPHE. CHORUS. Thou art high and haughty-hearted, And from lofty thoughts within thee {84} Mighty words are brimming o'er: For thy sober sense is madded With the purple-dripping gore; And thine eyes with fatness swell[n91] From bloody feasts: but mark me well, Time shall come, avenging Time, And hunt thee out, and track thy crime: Then thou, when friends are far, shalt know Stroke for stroke, and blow for blow. CLYTEMNESTRA. Hear thou this oath, that seals my cause with right: By sacred Justice, perfecting revenge, By Até, and the Erinnys of my child, To whom I slew this man, I shall not tread The threshold of pale Fear, the while doth live Ægisthus, now, as he hath been, my friend, Stirring the flame that blazes on my hearth, My shield of strong assurance. For the slain, Here lieth he that wronged a much-wronged woman, Sweet honey-lord of Trojan Chryseids. And for this spear-won maid, this prophetess, This wise diviner, well-beloved bed-fellow, And trusty messmate of great Agamemnon, She shares his fate, paying with him the fee Of her own sin, and like a swan hath sung Her mortal song beside him. She hath been Rare seasoning added to my banquet rare. STROPHE I.[n92] CHORUS. O would some stroke of Fate--no dull disease Life's strings slow-rending, No bed-bound pain--might bring, my smart to soothe, The sleep unending! For he, my gracious lord, my guide, is gone, Beyond recalling; Slain for a woman's cause, and by the hands Of woman falling. STROPHE II. O Helen! Helen! phrenzied Helen, Many hearts of thee are telling Damned destruction thou hast done, There where thousands fell for one 'Neath the walls of Troy! {85} ANTISTROPHE II. Bloomed from thee the blossom gory Of famous Agamemnon's glory; Thou hast roused the slumbering strife, From age to age, with eager knife, Watching to destroy. STROPHE III. CLYTEMNESTRA. Death invoke not to relieve thee From the ills that vainly grieve thee! Nor, with ire indignant swelling, Blame the many-murdering Helen! Damned destruction did she none, There, where thousands fell for one, 'Neath the walls of Troy.