That weeps for joy? _Atreus_ [_greeting his brother with effusive affection_]: With one consent, my brother, let us keep 970 This festal day. For this the happy day Which shall the scepter 'stablish in thy hand, And link our family in the bonds of peace. _Thyestes_ [_pushing the remains of the feast from him_]: Enough of food and wine! One thing alone Can swell my generous sum of happiness-- If with my children I may share my joy. 975 _Atreus:_ Believe that in the father's bosom rest The sons; both now and ever shall they be With thee. No single part of these thy sons Shall e'er be taken from thee. Make request: What thou desirest will I freely give, And fill thee with thy loving family. Thou shalt be satisfied; be not afraid. 980 E'en now thy children, mingled with my own, Enjoy alone their youthful festival. They shall be summoned hither. Now behold This ancient cup, an heirloom of our house. Take thou and drink the wine which it contains. [_He hands_ Thyestes _the cup filled with mingled blood and wine_.] _Thyestes:_ I take my brother's proffered gift. But first Unto our father's gods we'll pour a share, And then will drink the cup. 985 But what is this? My hands will not obey my will; the cup-- How heavy it has grown, how it resists My grasp! And see how now the wine itself, Though lifted to my mouth, avoids the touch, And flees my disappointed lips. Behold, The table totters on the trembling floor; The lights burn dim; the very air is thick, 990 And, by the natural fires deserted, stands All dull and lifeless 'twixt the day and night. What can it all portend? Now more and more The shattered heavens seem tottering to their fall; The darkness deepens, and the gloomy night In blacker night is plunged. And all the stars Have disappeared. Whatever this may mean, 995 Oh, spare my children, brother, spare, I pray; And let this gathering storm of evil burst Upon my head. Oh, give me back my sons! _Atreus:_ Yes, I will give them back, and never more Shall they be taken from thy fond embrace. [_Exit._] _Thyestes:_ What is this tumult rising in my breast? Why do my vitals quake? I feel a load 1000 Unbearable, and from my inmost heart Come groans of agony that are not mine. My children, come! your wretched father calls. Oh come! For when mine eyes behold you here, Perchance this care will pass away.--But whence Those answering calls?