Your search returned 16 results in 14 document sections:
Clytaemestra Listen then to this too, this the righteous sanction on my oath: by Justice, exacted for my child, by Ate, by the Avenging Spirit, to whom I sacrificed that man, hope does not tread for me the halls of fear,so long as the fire upon my hearth is kindled by Aegisthus, loyal in heart to me as in days gone by. For he is no slight shield of confidence to me. Here lies the man who did me wrong, plaything of each Chryseis at Ilium;and here she lies, his captive, and auguress, and concubine, his oracular faithful whore, yet equally familiar with the seamen's benches. The pair has met no undeserved fate. For he lies thus; while she, who, like a swan,has sung her last lament in death, lies here, his beloved; but to me she has brought for my bed an added relish of delight.
Chorus Why does this terror so persistently hover standing before my prophetic soul? Why does my song, unbidden and unfed, chant strains of augury? Why does assuring confidence not sit on my heart's throneand spurn the terror like an uninterpretable dream? But Time has collected the sands of the shore upon the cables cast thereonwhen the shipborn army sped forth for Ilium.The sense of the Greek passage （of which no entirely satisfactory emendation has been offered） is that so much time has passed since the fleet, under Agamemnon's command, was detained at Aulis by the wrath of Artemis, that Calchas' prophecy of evil, if true, would have been fulfilled long
Agamemnon Argos first, as is right and proper, I greet, and her local gods who have helped me to my safe return and to the justice I exacted from Priam's town. For listening to no pleadings by word of mouth, “Not hearing pleadings from the tongue”—as if the Greeks and Trojans were waging war in words before a human court—but with divine insight of the true merits of the case.without dissenting voice, they cast into thebloody urn their ballots for the murderous destroying of Ilium; but to the urn of acquittal that no hand filled, Hope alone drew near. The smoke even now still declares the city's fall. Destruction's blasts still live, andthe embers, as they die, breathe forth rich fumes of wealth. For this success we should render to the gods a return in ever-mindful gratitude, seeing that we have thrown round the city the toils of vengeance, and in a woman's cause it has been laid low by the fierce Argive beast,brood of the horse,The wooden horse.a shield-armed folk, that launch
Chorus At first, I would say, there came to Ilium the spirit of unruffled calm,a delicate ornament of wealth, a darter of soft glances from the eye, love's flower that stings the heart. Then, swerving from her course, she broughther marriage to a bitter end, sped on to the children of Priam under escort of Zeus, the warder of host and guest, ruining her sojourn and her companions, a vengeful Fury who brought tears to brides.
Chorus To Ilium, its purpose fulfilling,Wrath brought a marriage rightly named a mourning, kh=dos has a double sense: “marriage-alliance” and “sorrow.”exacting in later time requital for the dishonor done to hospitality and to Zeus, the partaker of the hearth,upon those who with loud voice celebrated the song in honor of the bride, even the bridegroom's kin to whom it fell that day to raise the marriage-hymn.But Priam's city has learned, in her old age, an altered strain, and now, I trust, wails a loud song, full of lamentation, calling Paris “evil-wed”; for she has born the burden of a life in which everything was destroyed, a life full of lamentation because ofthe wretched slaughter