Soon shall we know whereof the bale-fires tell, The beacons, kindled with transmitted flame;Whether, as well I deem, their tale is true, Or whether like some dream delusive came The welcome blaze but to befool our soul.
For lo! I see a herald from the shore Draw hither, shadowed with the olive-wreath-And thirsty dust, twin-brother of the clay, Speaks plain of travel far and truthful news-No dumb surmise, nor tongue of flame in smoke, Fitfully kindled from the mountain pyre;But plainlier shall his voice say, All is well, Or-but away, forebodings adverse, now, And on fair promise fair fulfilment come!
And whoso for the state prays otherwise, Himself reap harvest of his ill desire!
(A HERALD enters. He is an advance messenger from AGAMEMNON'Sforces, which have just landed.)
HERALD
O land of Argos, fatherland of mine!
To thee at last, beneath the tenth year's sun, My feet return; the bark of my emprise, Tho' one by one hope's anchors broke away, Held by the last, and now rides safely here.
Long, long my soul despaired to win, in death, Its longed-for rest within our Argive land:
And now all hail, O earth, and hail to thee, New-risen sun! and hail our country's God, High-ruling Zeus, and thou, the Pythian lord, Whose arrows smote us once-smite thou no morel Was not thy wrath wreaked full upon our heads, O king Apollo, by Scamander's side?
Turn thou, be turned, be saviour, healer, now And hail, all gods who rule the street and mart And Hermes hail! my patron and my pride, Herald of heaven, and lord of heralds here!
And Heroes, ye who sped us on our way-
To one and all I cry, Receive again With grace such Argives as the spear has spared.
Ah, home of royalty, beloved halls, And solemn shrines, and gods that front the morn!
Benign as erst, with sun-flushed aspect greet The king returning after many days.
For as from night flash out the beams of day, So out of darkness dawns a light, a king, On you, on Argos-Agamemnon comes.
Then hail and greet him well I such meed befits Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong-And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness Each altar, every shrine; and far and wide Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair.