_Eurybates:_ Unharmed, by glory crowned, increased in praise, 400 He hath set foot upon the long-sought shore. _Clytemnestra:_ Then hail this day with joy, and thank the gods Who, though their favoring aid was late bestowed, At last have smiled propitious on our cause. But tell me thou, does yet my brother live? Say, too, how fares my sister Helena? 405 _Eurybates:_ If prayer and hope prevail, they yet survive; No surer tidings is it given to speak Of those who wander on the stormy sea. Scarce had the swollen highways of the deep Received our fleet, when ship from kindred ship Was driven, and lost amid the gathering gloom. E'en Agamemnon's self in doubt and fear 410 Went wandering upon the trackless waste, And suffered more from Neptune's buffetings Than he had e'er endured in bloody war. And now, a humble victor, home he comes, With but a shattered remnant of his fleet. _Clytemnestra:_ But say what fate has swallowed up my ships, And scattered our great chieftains o'er the sea? 415 _Eurybates:_ A sorry tale 'twould be: thou bid'st me mix The bitter message with the sweet. But I, Alas, am sick at heart, and cannot tell For very horror our most woeful tale. _Clytemnestra:_ But tell it even so; for he who shrinks From knowledge of his woe has greater fear. And ills half seen are worse than certainty. 420 _Eurybates:_ When Troy lies smouldering 'neath our Grecian fires We quickly lot the spoil, and seek the sea In eager haste. And now our weary sides Are easéd of the falchion's wonted load; Our shields along the vessels' lofty sterns Unheeded hang, and once again our hands, Long used to swords, are fitted to the oar; 425 And all impatiently we wait the word. Then flashed from Agamemnon's ship the sign That bade us homeward speed, and clear and loud The trumpet pealed upon our joyful ears; The flagship's gilded prow gleamed on ahead, The course directing for a thousand ships. 430 A kindly breeze first stole into our sails And urged us softly on; the tranquil waves Scarce rippled with the Zephyr's gentle breath; The sea was all a-glitter with the fleet Which lit e'en while it hid the watery way. 'Tis sweet to see the empty shores of Troy, 435 The broad plains left in lonely solitude. The eager sailors ply the bending oars, Hands aiding sails, and move their sturdy arms With rhythmic swing. The furrowed waters gleam, And sing along the sides, while rushing prows 440 Besprinkle all the sea with hoary spray. When fresher breezes fill our swelling sails, We cease from toil, and, stretched along the thwarts, We watch the far-off shores of Ilium, Fast fleeing as our vessels seaward fare; 445