Hermes, dear herald, heralds’ veneration, —And Heroes our forthsenders, — friendly, once moreThe army to receive, the war-spear’s leavings!Ha, mansions of my monarchs, roofs beloved,And awful seats, and deities sun-fronting —Receive with pomp your monarch, long time absent!For he comes bringing light in night-time to you,In common with all these — king Agamemnon.But kindly greet him — for clear shows your duty —Who has dug under Troia with the mattockOf Zeus the Avenger, whereby plains are out-ploughed,Altars unrecognizable, and gods’ shrines,And the whole land’s seed thoroughly has perished.And such a yoke-strap having cast round Troia,The elder king Atreides, happy man — heComes to be honoured, worthiest of what mortalsNow are. Nor Paris nor the accomplice-cityOutvaunts their deed as more than they are done-by:For, in a suit for rape and theft found guilty,He missed of plunder and, in one destruction,Fatherland, house and home has mowed to atoms:Debts the Priamidai have paid twice over. CHOROS.Hail, herald from the army of Achaians!HERALD.I hail: — to die, will gainsay gods no longer!CHOROS.Love of this fatherland did exercise thee?HERALD.So that I weep, at least, with joy, my eyes full.CHOROS.What, of this gracious sickness were ye gainers?HERALD.How now? instructed, I this speech shall master.CHOROS.For those who loved you back, with longing stricken.HERALD.This land yearned for the yearning army, say’st thou?