But empty honor and a tinsel show? This scepter one short hour can take away, Without the aid, perchance, of countless ships And ten long years of war. The steps of fate Do not for all advance with pace so slow. 275 For me, I will confess ('tis with thy grace, O land of Greece, I speak) I have desired To see the pride and power of Troy brought low; But that her walls and homes should be o'erthrown In utter ruin have I never wished. But a wrathful foe, by greedy passion driven, And heated by the glow of victory, Within the shrouding darkness of the night, 280 Cannot be held in check. If any act Upon that fatal night unworthy seemed Or cruel, 'twas the deed of heedless wrath, And darkness which is ever fury's spur, And the victorious sword, whose lust for blood, When once in blood imbued, is limitless. Since Troy has lost her all, seek not to grasp 285 The last poor fragments that remain. Enough, And more has she endured of punishment. But that a maid of royal birth should fall An offering upon Achilles' tomb, Bedewing his harsh ashes with her blood, While that foul murder gains the honored name Of wedlock, I shall not permit. On me The blame of all will come; for he who sin 290 Forbids not when he can, commits the sin. _Pyrrhus:_ Shall no reward Achilles' shade obtain? _Agamemnon:_ Yea, truly; all the Greeks shall sing his praise, And unknown lands shall hear his mighty name. But if his shade demand a sacrifice 295 Of out-poured blood, go take our richest flocks, And shed their blood upon thy father's tomb; But let no mother's tears pollute the rite. What barbarous custom this, that living man Should to the dead be slain in sacrifice? Then spare thy father's name the hate and scorn Which by such cruel worship it must gain. 300 _Pyrrhus:_ Thou, swoll'n with pride so long as happy fate Uplifts thy soul, but weak and spent with fear When fortune frowns; O hateful king of kings, Is now thy heart once more with sudden love Of this new maid inflamed? Shalt thou alone So often bear away my father's spoils? 305 By this right hand he shall receive his own. And if thou dost refuse, and keep the maid, A greater victim will I slay, and one More worthy Pyrrhus' gift; for all too long From royal slaughter hath my hand been free, And Priam asks an equal sacrifice. 310 _Agamemnon:_ Far be it from my wish to dim the praise That thou dost claim for this most glorious deed-- Old Priam slain by thy barbaric sword, Thy father's suppliant.