Chorus Your words have proved me wrong. I do not deny it; for the old have ever enough youth to learn aright. But these tidings should have most interest for the household and Clytaemestra, and at the same time enrich me.
Clytaemestra I raised a shout of triumph in my joy long before this, when the first flaming messenger arrived by night, telling that Ilium was captured and overthrown. Then there were some who chided me and said: Are you so convinced by beacon-fires as to think that Troy has now been sacked? Truly, it is just like a woman to be elated in heart. By such taunts I was made to seem as if my wits were wandering. Nevertheless I still held on with my sacrifice, and throughout all the quarters of the city, according to their womanly custom, they raised a shout of happy praise while in the shrines of the gods they lulled to rest the fragrant spice-fed flame. So now why should you rehearse to me the account at length? From the king himself I shall hear the whole tale; but I should hasten to welcome my honored husband best on his return. For what joy is sweeter in a woman’s eyes than to unbar the gates for her husband when God has spared him to return from war? Give this message to my husband: let him come with all speed, his country’s fond desire, come to find at home his wife faithful, even as he left her, a watchdog of his house, loyal to him, a foe to those who wish him ill; yes, for the rest, unchanged in every part; in all this length of time never having broken any seal. Of pleasure from any other man or of scandalous repute I know no more than of dyeing bronze.
Herald A boast like this, loaded full with truth, does not shame the speech of a noble wife.
Chorus Thus has she spoken for your schooling, but speciously for those that can interpret right. But, Herald, say—I want to hear of Menelaus. Has he, our land’s dear lord, travelled safe home and has he returned with you?
Herald It would be impossible to report false news so fair that those I love should take pleasure for long.
Chorus Oh if only you could tell tidings true yet good! It is not easy to conceal when true and good are split apart.
Herald The prince was swept from the sight of the Achaean host, himself, and his ship likewise. I speak no lies.
Chorus Did he put forth in sight of all from Ilium, or did a storm, distressing all in common, snatch him from the fleet?
Herald Like a master bowman you have hit the mark; a long tale of distress have you told in brief.
Chorus Did the general voice of other voyagers bring news of him as alive or dead?
Herald None knows to give clear report of this—except only the Sun that fosters life upon the earth.
Chorus How then do you say rose the storm by the wrath of the gods upon the naval host and passed away?
Herald
An auspicious day one should not mar with a tale of misfortune—the honor due to the gods keeps them apart. When a messenger with gloomy countenance reports to a people dire disaster of its army’s rout— one common wound inflicted on the State, while from many a home many a victim is devoted to death by the two-handled whip beloved of Ares, destruction double-armed, a gory pair—when, I say, he is packed with woes like this, he should sing the triumph-song of the Avenging Spirits. But when one comes with glad news of deliverance to a city rejoicing in its happiness—how shall I mix fair with foul in telling of the storm, not unprovoked by the gods’ wrath, that broke upon the Achaeans? For fire and sea, beforehand bitterest of foes, swore alliance and as proof destroyed the unhappy Argive army. In the night-time arose the mischief from the cruel swells. Beneath blasts from Thrace ship dashed against ship; and they, gored violently by the furious hurricane and rush of pelting rain, were swept out of sight by the whirling gust of an evil shepherd. But when the radiant light of the sun rose we beheld the Aegean flowering with corpses of Achaean men and wreckage of ships. Ourselves, however, and our ship, its hull unshattered, some power, divine not human, preserved by stealth or intercession, laying hand upon its helm; and Savior Fortune chose to sit aboard our craft so that it should neither take in the swelling surf at anchorage nor drive upon a rock-bound coast. Then, having escaped death upon the deep, in the clear bright day, scarce crediting our fortune, we brooded in anxious thought over our late mischance, our fleet distressed and sorely buffeted. So now, if any of them still draw the breath of life, they speak of us as lost—and why should they not? We think the same of them. But may all turn out for the best! For Menelaus, indeed; first and foremost expect him to return. At least if some beam of the sun finds him alive and well, by the design of Zeus, who has not yet decided utterly to destroy the race, there is some hope that he will come home again. Hearing so much, be assured that you hear the truth.
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