Agamemnon (880-955)

For he is in the protecting care of our well-intentioned ally, Strophius of Phocis, who warned me of trouble on two scores—your own peril beneath Ilium’s walls, and then the chance that the people in clamorous revolt might overturn the Council, as it is natural

for men to trample all the more upon the fallen. Truly such an excuse supports no guile.

As for myself, the welling fountains of my tears are utterly dried up—not a drop remains. In night-long vigils my eyes are sore

with weeping for the beacon-lights set for you but always neglected. The faint whir of the buzzing gnat often waked me from dreams in which I beheld more disasters to you than the time of sleep could have compassed.

But now, having born all this, my heart freed from its anxiety, I would hail my husband here as the watchdog of the fold, the savior forestay of the ship, firm-based pillar of the lofty roof, only-begotten son of a father, or land glimpsed by men at sea beyond their hope,

dawn most fair to look upon after storm, the gushing stream to thirsty wayfarer—sweet is it to escape all stress of need. Such truly are the greetings of which I deem him worthy. But let envy[*]be far removed, since many were the ills

we endured before. And now, I pray you, my dear lord, dismount from your car, but do not set on common earth the foot, my King, that has trampled upon Ilium. To her attendants Why this loitering, women, to whom I have assigned the task to strew with tapestries the place where he shall go?

Quick! With purple let his path be strewn, that Justice may usher him into a home he never hoped to see. The rest my unslumbering vigilance shall order duly, if it please god, even as is ordained.

Offspring of Leda, guardian of my house,

your speech fits well with my absence; for you have drawn it out to ample length. But becoming praise—this prize should rightly proceed from other lips. For the rest, pamper me not as if I were a woman, nor, like some barbarian,[*]

grovel before me with widemouthed acclaim; and do not draw down envy upon my path by strewing it with tapestries. It is the gods we must honor thus; but it is not possible for a mortal to tread upon embroidered fineries without fear.

I tell you to revere me not as a god, but as a man. Footmats and embroideries sound diverse in the voice of Rumor; to think no folly is the best gift of the gods. Only when man’s life comes to its end in prosperity dare we pronounce him happy;

and if I may act in all things as I do now, I have good confidence.

Come now, tell me this, in accordance with your mind.

Purpose! Be assured that I shall not corrupt my mind.

You would in fear have vowed to the gods to act thus.

If someone with full knowledge had pronounced this word.

What do you suppose that Priam would have done, if he had achieved your triumph?

He would have set foot upon the embroideries, I certainly believe.

Then do not be be ashamed of mortal reproach.

And yet a people’s voice is a mighty power.

True, yet he who is unenvied is unenviable.

Surely it is not woman’s part to long for fighting.

True, but it is right for the happy victor to yield the victory.

What? is this the kind of victory in strife that you prize?

Oh yield! Yet of your own free will entrust the victory to me.

Well, if you will have your way,

quick, let some one loose my sandals, which, slavelike, serve the treading of my foot! As I walk upon these purple vestments may I not be struck from afar by any glance of the gods’ jealous eye. A terrible shame it is for one’s foot to mar the resources of the house by wasting wealth and costly woven work.

So much for this. This foreign girl receive into the house with kindness. A god from afar looks graciously upon a gentle master; for no one freely takes the yoke of slavery. But she,

the choicest flower of rich treasure, has followed in my train, my army’s gift. Since I have been forced to obey you and must listen to you in this, I will tread upon a purple pathway as I pass to my palace halls.