But he had scarcely left speaking, when there came one of these same watchers and said, "I have not come hither in haste, O King, nay, I doubted much, while I was yet on the way, whether I should not turn again. For now I thought, 'Fool, why goest thou where thou shalt suffer for it;' and then again, 'Fool, the King will hear the matter elsewhere, and then how wilt thou fare?' But at the last I came as I had purposed, for I know that nothing may happen to me contrary to fate."

"But say," said the King, "what troubles thee so much?"

"First hear my case. I did not the thing, and know not who did it, and it were a grievous wrong should I fall into trouble for such a cause."

"Thou makest a long preface, excusing thyself, but yet hast, as I judge, something to tell."

"Fear, my lord, ever causeth delay."

"Wilt thou not speak out thy news and then begone?"

"I will speak it. Know then that some man hath thrown dust upon this dead corpse, and done besides such things as are needful."

"What sayest thou? Who hath dared to do this deed?"

"That I know not, for there was no mark as of spade or pick-axe; nor was the earth broken, nor had waggon passed thereon. We were sore dismayed when the watchman showed the thing to us; for the body we could not see. Buried indeed it was not, but rather covered with dust. Nor was there any sign as of wild beast or of dog that had torn it. Then there arose a contention among us, each blaming the other, and accusing his fellows, and himself denying that he had done the deed or was privy to it. And doubtless we had fallen to blows but that one spake a word which made us all tremble for fear, knowing that it must be as he said. For he said that the thing must be told to thee, and in no wise hidden. So we drew lots, and by evil chance the lot fell upon me. Wherefore I am here, not willingly, for no man loveth him that bringeth ill tidings."

Then said the chief of the old men, "Consider, O King, for haply this thing is from the Gods."

But the King cried, "Thinkest thou that the Gods care for such an one as this dead man, who would have burnt their temples with fire, and laid waste the land which they love, and set at naught the laws? Not so. But there are men in this city who have long time had ill will to me, not bowing their necks to my yoke; and they have persuaded these fellows with money to do this thing. Surely there never was so evil a thing as money, which maketh cities into ruinous heaps, and banisheth men from their houses, and turneth their thoughts from good unto evil. But as for them that have done this deed for hire, of a truth they shall not escape, for I say to thee, fellow, if ye bring not here before my eyes the man that did this thing, I will hang you up alive. So shall ye learn that ill gains bring no profit to a man."

So the guard departed; but as he went he said to himself, "Now may the Gods grant that the man be found; but however this may be, thou shalt not see me come again on such errand as this, for even now have I escaped beyond all hope." Notwithstanding, after a space he came back with one of his fellows; and they brought with them the maiden Antigone, with her hands bound together. And it chanced that at the same time King Creon came forth from the palace. Then the guard set forth the thing to him, saying, "We cleared away the dust from the dead body, and sat watching it. And when it was now noon, and the sun was at his height, there came a whirlwind over the plain, driving a great cloud of dust. And when this had passed, we looked, and lo! this maiden whom we have brought hither stood by the dead corpse. And when she saw that it lay bare as before, she sent up an exceeding bitter cry, even as a bird whose young ones have been taken from the nest. Then she cursed them that had done this deed; and brought dust and sprinkled it upon the dead man, and poured water upon him three times. Then we ran and laid hold upon her, and accused her that she had done this deed; and she denied it not. But as for me, 'tis well to have escaped from death, but it is ill to bring friends into the same. Yet I hold that there is nothing dearer to a man than his life."

Then said the King to Antigone, "Tell me in a word, didst thou know my decree?"

"I knew it. Was it not plainly declared?"

"How daredst thou to transgress the laws?"

"Zeus made not such laws, nor Justice that dwelleth with the Gods below. I judged not that thy decrees had such authority that a man should transgress for them the unwritten sure commandments of the Gods. For these, indeed, are not of to-day or yesterday, but they live for ever, and their beginning no man knoweth. Should I, for fear of thee, be found guilty against them? That I should die I knew. Why not? All men must die. And if I die before my time, what loss? He who liveth among many sorrows, even as I have lived, counteth it gain to die. But had I left my own mother's son unburied, this had been loss indeed."

Then said the King, "Such stubborn thoughts have a speedy fall, and are shivered even as the iron that hath been made hard in the furnace. And as for this woman and her sister—for I judge her sister to have had a part in this matter—though they were nearer to me than all my kindred, yet shall they not escape the doom of death. Wherefore let some one bring the other woman hither."



And while they went to fetch the maiden Ismene, Antigone said to the King, "Is it not enough for thee to slay me? What need to say more? For thy words please me not nor mine thee. Yet what nobler thing could I have done than to bury my own mother's son? And so would all men say but fear shutteth their mouths."

"Nay," said the King, "none of the children of Cadmus thinketh thus, but thou only. But, hold, was not he that fell in battle with this man thy brother also?"

"Yes, truly, my brother he was."

"And dost thou not dishonour him when thou honourest his enemy?"

"The dead man would not say it, could he speak."

"Shall then the wicked have like honour with the good?"

"How knowest thou but that such honour pleaseth the Gods below?"

"I have no love for them I hate, though they be dead."

"Of hating I know nothing; 'tis enough for me to love."

"If thou wilt love, go love the dead. But while I live no woman shall rule me."

Then those that had been sent to fetch the maiden Ismene brought her forth from the palace. And when the King accused her that she had been privy to the deed she denied not, but would have shared one lot with her sister. But Antigone turned from her, saying, "Not so; thou hast no part or lot in the matter. For thou hast chosen life, and I have chosen death; and even so shall it be." And when Ismene saw that she prevailed nothing with her sister, she turned to the King and said, "Wilt thou slay the bride of thy son?"

"Aye," said he, "there are other brides to win!"

"But none," she made reply, "that accord so well with him."

"I will have no evil wives for my sons," said the King.

Then cried Antigone, "O Haemon, whom I love, how thy father wrongeth thee!"

Then the King bade the guards lead the two into the palace. But scarcely had they gone when there came to the place the Prince Haemon, the King's son, who was betrothed to the maiden Antigone. And when the King saw him, he said, "Art thou content, my son, with thy father's judgment?"

And the young man answered, "My father, I would follow thy counsels in all things."

Then said the King, "'Tis well spoken, my son. This is a thing to be desired, that a man should have obedient children. But if it be otherwise with a man, he hath gotten great trouble for himself, and maketh sport for them that hate him. And now as to this matter. There is nought worse than an evil wife. Wherefore I say, let this damsel wed a bridegroom among the dead. For since I have found her, alone of all this people, breaking my decree, surely she shall die. Nor shall it profit her to claim kinship with me, for he that would rule a city must first deal justly with his own kindred And as for obedience, this it is that maketh a city to stand both in peace and in war."

To this the Prince Haemon made answer, "What thou sayest, my father, I do not judge. Yet bethink thee, that I see and hear on thy behalf what is hidden from thee. For common men cannot abide thy look if they say that which pleaseth thee not. Yet do I hear it in secret. Know then that all the city mourneth for this maiden, saying that she dieth wrongfully for a very noble deed, in that she buried her brother. And 'tis well, my father, not to be wholly set on thy own thoughts, but to listen to the counsels of others."

"Nay," said the King; "shall I be taught by such an one as thou?"

"I pray thee regard my words, if they be well, and not my years."

"Can it be well to honour them that transgress? And hath not this woman transgressed?"

"The people of this city judgeth not so."

"The people, sayest thou? Is it for them to rule, or for me?"

"No city is the possession of one man only."

So the two answered one the other, and their anger waxed hot. And at the last the King cried, "Bring this accursed woman, and slay her before his eyes."

And the Prince answered, "That thou shalt never do. And know this also, that thou shalt never see my face again."

So he went away in a rage; and the old men would have appeased the King's wrath, but he would not hearken to them, but said that the two maidens should die. "Wilt thou then slay them both?" said the old men.

"'Tis well said," the King made answer. "Her that meddled not with the matter I harm not."

"And how wilt thou deal with the other?"

"There is a desolate place, and there I will shut her up alive in a sepulchre; yet giving her so much of food as shall quit us of guilt in the matter, for I would not have the city defiled. There let her persuade Death, whom she loveth so much, that he harm her not."

So the guards led Antigone away to shut her up alive in the sepulchre. But scarcely had they departed when there came the old prophet Tiresias, seeking the King. Blind he was, so that a boy led him by the hand; but the Gods had given him to see things to come. And when the King saw him he asked, "What seekest thou, wisest of men?"

Then the prophet answered, "Hearken, O King, and I will tell thee. I sat in my seat, after my custom, in the place whither all manner of birds resort. And as I sat I heard a cry of birds that I knew not, very strange and full of wrath. And I knew that they tare and slew each other, for I heard the fierce flapping of their wings. And being afraid, I made inquiry about the fire, how it burned upon the altars. And this boy, for as I am a guide to others so he guideth me, told me that it shone not at all, but smouldered and was dull, and that the flesh which was burnt upon the altar spluttered in the flame, and wasted away into corruption and filthiness. And now I tell thee, O King, that the city is troubled by thy ill counsels. For the dogs and the birds of the air tear the flesh of this dead son of Oedipus, whom thou sufferest not to have due burial, and carry it to the altars, polluting them therewith. Wherefore the Gods receive not from us prayer or sacrifice; and the cry of the birds hath an evil sound, for they are full of the flesh of a man. Therefore I bid the be wise in time. For all men may err; but he that keepeth not his folly, but repenteth, doeth well; but stubbornness cometh to great trouble."

Then the King answered, "Old man, I know the race of prophets full well, how ye sell your art for gold. But, make thy trade as thou wilt, this man shall not have burial; yea, though the eagles of Zeus carry his flesh to their master's throne in heaven, he shall not have it."

And when the prophet spake again, entreating him, and warning, the King answered him after the same fashion, that he spake not honestly, but had sold his art for money. But at the last the prophet spake in great wrath, saying, "Know, O King, that before many days shall pass, thou shalt pay a life for a life, even one of thine own children, for them with whom thou hast dealt unrighteously, shutting up the living with the dead, and keeping the dead from them to whom they belong. Therefore the Furies lie in wait for thee, and thou shalt see whether or no I speak these things for money. For there shall be mourning and lamentation in thine own house; and against thy people shall be stirred up all the cities, whose sons thou hast made to lie unburied. And now, my child, lead me home, and let this man rage against them that are younger than I."

So the prophet departed, and the old men were sore afraid, and said, "He hath spoken terrible things, O King; nor ever since these gray hairs were black have we known him say that which was false."

"Even so," said the King, "and I am troubled in heart, and yet am loath to depart from my purpose."

"King Creon," said the old men, "thou needest good counsel."

"What, then, would ye have done?"

"Set free the maiden from the sepulchre, and give this dead man burial."

Then the King cried to his people that they should bring bars wherewith to loosen the doors of the sepulchre, and hasted with them to the place. But coming on their way to the body of Prince Polynices, they took it up, and washed it, and buried that which remained of it, and raised over the ashes a great mound of earth. And this being done, they drew near to the place of the sepulchre; and as they approached, the King heard within a very piteous voice, and knew it for the voice of his son. Then he bade his attendants loose the door with all speed; and when they had loosed it, they beheld within a very piteous sight. For the maiden Antigone had hanged herself by the girdle of linen which she wore, and the young man Prince Haemon stood with his arms about her dead corpse, embracing it. And when the King saw him, he cried to him to come forth; but the Prince glared fiercely upon him and answered him not a word, but drew his two-edged sword. Then the King, thinking that his son was minded in his madness to slay him, leapt back, but the Prince drave the sword into his own heart, and fell forward on the earth, still holding the dead maiden in his arms. And when they brought the tidings of these things to Queen Eurydice, that was the wife of King Creon and mother to the Prince, she could not endure the grief, being thus bereaved of her children, but laid hold of a sword, and slew herself therewith.

So the house of King Creon was left desolate unto him that day, because he despised the ordinances of the Gods.



THE STORY OF IPHIGENIA IN AULIS.

King Agamemnon sat in his tent at Aulis, where the army of the Greeks was gathered together, being about to sail against the great city of Troy. And it was now past midnight; but the King slept not, for he was careful and troubled about many things. And he had a lamp before him, and in his hand a tablet of pine wood, whereon he wrote. But he seemed not to remain in the same mind about that which he wrote; for now he would blot out the letters, and then would write them again; and now he fastened the seal upon the tablet and then brake it. And as he did this he wept, and was like to a man distracted. But after a while he called to an old man, his attendant (the man had been given in time past by Tyndareus to his daughter, Queen Clytaemnestra), and said "Old man, thou knowest how Calchas the soothsayer bade me offer for a sacrifice to Artemis, who is goddess of this place, my daughter Iphigenia, saying that so only should the army have a prosperous voyage from this place to Troy, and should take the city and destroy it; and how when I heard these words I bade Talthybius the herald go throughout the army and bid them depart, every man to his own country, for that I would not do this thing; and how my brother, King Menelaues, persuaded me so that I consented to it. Now, therefore, hearken to this, for what I am about to tell thee three men only know, namely, Calchas the soothsayer, and Menelaues, and Ulysses, King of Ithaca. I wrote a letter to my wife the Queen, that she should send her daughter to this place, that she might be married to King Achilles; and I magnified the man to her, saying that he would in no wise sail with us unless I would give him my daughter in marriage. But now I have changed my purpose, and have written another letter after this fashion, as I will now set forth to thee,—'DAUGHTER OF LEDA, SEND NOT THY CHILD TO THE LAND OF EUBOEA, FOR I WILL GIVE HER IN MARRIAGE AT ANOTHER TIME.'"

"Aye," said the old man, "but how wilt thou deal with King Achilles? Will he not be wroth, hearing that he hath been cheated of his wife?"

"Not so," answered the King, "for we have indeed used his name, but he knoweth nothing of this marriage. And now make haste. Sit not thou down by any fountain in the woods, and suffer not thine eyes to sleep. And beware lest the chariot bearing the Queen and her daughter pass thee where the roads divide. And see that thou keep the seal upon this letter unbroken."

So the old man departed with the letter. But scarcely had he left the tent when King Menelaues spied him and laid hands on him, taking the letter and breaking the seal. And the old man cried out—

"Help, my lord; here is one hath taken thy letter!"

Then King Agamemnon came forth from his tent, saying, "What meaneth this uproar and disputing that I hear?"

And Menelaues answered, "Seest thou this letter that I hold in my hand?"

"I see it: it is mine. Give it to me."

"I give it not till I have read that which is written therein to all the army of the Greeks."

"Where didst thou find it?"

"I found it while I waited for thy daughter till she should come to the camp."

"What hast thou to do with that? May I not rule my own household?"

Then Menelaues reproached his brother because he did not continue in one mind. "For first," he said, "before thou wast chosen captain of the host, thou wast all things to all men, greeting every man courteously, and taking him by the hand, and talking with him, and leaving thy doors open to any that would enter; but afterwards, being now chosen, thou wast haughty and hard of access. And next, when this trouble came upon the army, and thou wast sore afraid lest thou shouldst lose thy office, and so miss renown, didst thou not hearken to Calchas the soothsayer, and promise thy daughter for sacrifice, and send for her to the camp, making pretence of giving her in marriage to Achilles? And now thou art gone back from thy word. Surely this is an evil day for Greece, that is troubled because thou wantest wisdom."

Then answered King Agamemnon, "What is thy quarrel with me? Why blamest thou me if thou couldst not rule thy wife? And now to win back this woman, because forsooth she is fair, thou castest aside both reason and honour. And I, if I had an ill purpose, and now have changed it for that which is wiser, dost thou charge me with folly? Let them that sware the oath to Tyndareus go with thee on this errand. Why should I slay my child, and work for myself sorrow and remorse without end that thou mayest have vengeance for thy wicked wife?"

Then Menelaues turned away in a rage, crying, "Betray me if thou wilt. I will betake myself to other counsels and other friends."

But even as he spake there came a messenger, saying, "King Agamemnon, I am come, as thou badest me, with thy daughter Iphigenia. Also her mother, Queen Clytaemnestra, is come, bringing with her her little son, Orestes. And now they are resting themselves and their horses by the side of a spring, for indeed the way is long and weary. And all the army is gathered about them, to see them and greet them. And men question much wherefore they are come, saying, 'Doth the King make a marriage for his daughter; or hath he sent for her, desiring to see her?' But I know thy purpose, my lord; wherefore we will dance and shout and make merry, for this is a happy day for the maiden."

But the King Agamemnon was sore dismayed when he knew that the Queen was come, and spake to himself. "Now what shall I say to my wife? For that she is rightly come to the marriage of her daughter who can deny? But what will she say when she knoweth my purpose? And of the maiden, what shall I say? Unhappy maiden whose bridegroom shall be death! For she will cry to me, 'Wilt thou kill me, my father?' And the little Orestes will wail, not knowing what he doeth, seeing he is but a babe. Cursed be Paris, who hath wrought this woe!"

And now King Menelaues came back, saying that it repented him of what he had said, "For why should thy child die for me? What hath she to do with Helen? Let the army be scattered, so that this wrong be not done."

Then said King Agamemnon, "But how shall I escape from this strait? For the whole host will compel me to this deed?"

"Not so," said King Menelaues, "if thou wilt send back the maiden to Argos."

"But what shall that profit," said the King; "for Calchas will cause the matter to be known, or Ulysses, saying that I have failed of my promise; and if I fly to Argos, they will come and destroy my city and lay waste my land. Woe is me! in what a strait am I set! But take thou care, my brother, that Clytaemnestra hear nothing of these things."

And when he had ended speaking, the Queen herself came unto the tent, riding in a chariot, having her daughter by her side. And she bade one of the attendants take out with care the caskets which she had brought for her daughter, and bade others help her daughter to alight, and herself also, and to a fourth she said that he should take the young Orestes. Then Iphigenia greeted her father, saying, "Thou hast done well to send for me, my father."

"'Tis true and yet not true, my child."

"Thou lookest not well pleased to see me, my father."

"He that is a King and commandeth a host hath many cares."

"Put away thy cares awhile, and give thyself to me."

"I am glad beyond measure to see thee."

"Glad art thou? Then why dost thou weep?"

"I weep because thou must be long time absent from me."

"Perish all these fightings and troubles!"

"They will cause many to perish, and me most miserably of all."

"Art thou going a journey from me, my father?"

"Aye, and thou also hast a journey to make."

"Must I make it alone, or with my mother?"

"Alone; neither father nor mother may be with thee."

"Sendest thou me to dwell elsewhere?"

"Hold thy peace: such things are not for maidens to inquire."

"Well, my father, order matters with the Phrygians, and then make haste to return."

"I must first make a sacrifice to the Gods."

"'Tis well. The Gods should have due honour."

"Aye, and thou wilt stand close to the altar."

"Shall I lead the dances, my father?"

"O my child, how I envy thee, that thou knowest nought! And now go into the tent; but first kiss me, and give me thy hand, for thou shalt be parted from thy father for many days."

And when she was gone within, he cried, "O fair bosom and very lovely cheeks and yellow hair of my child! O city of Priam, what woe thou bringest on me! But I must say no more."

Then he turned to the Queen, and excused himself that he wept when he should rather have rejoiced for the marriage of his daughter. And when the Queen would know of the estate of the bridegroom, he told her that his name was Achilles, and that he was the son of Peleus by his wife Thetis, the daughter of Nereus of the sea, and that he dwelt in Phthia. And when she inquired of the time of the marriage he said that it should be in the same moon, on the first lucky day; and as to the place, that it must be where the bridegroom was sojourning, that is to say, in the camp. "And I," said the King, "will give the maiden to her husband."

"But where," answered the Queen, "is it your pleasure that I should be?"

"Thou must return to Argos, and care for the maidens there."

"Sayest thou that I must return? Who then will hold up the torch for the bride?"

"I will do that which is needful. For it is not seemly that thou shouldst be present where the whole army is gathered together."

"Aye, but it is seemly that a mother should give her daughter in marriage."

"But the maidens at home should not be left alone."

"They are well kept in their chambers."

"Be persuaded, lady."

"Not so: thou shalt order that which is without the house, but I that which is within."

But now came Achilles, to tell the King that the army was growing impatient, saying that, unless they might sail speedily to Troy, they would return each man to his home. And when the Queen heard his name—for he had said to the attendant, "Tell thy master that Achilles, the son of Peleus, would speak with him"—she came forth from the tent and greeted him, and bade him give her his right hand. And when the young man was ashamed (for it was not counted a seemly thing that men should speak with women) she said—

"But why art thou ashamed, seeing that thou art about to marry my daughter?"

And he answered, "What sayest thou, lady? I cannot speak for wonder at thy words."

"Often men are ashamed when they see new friends, and the talk is of marriage."

"But, lady, I never was suitor for thy daughter. Nor have the sons of Atreus said aught to me of the matter."

But the Queen was beyond measure astonished, and cried, "Now this is shameful indeed, that I should seek a bridegroom for my daughter in such fashion."

But when Achilles would have departed, to inquire of the King what this thing might mean, the old man that had at the first carried the letter came forth, and bade him stay. And when he had assurance that he should receive no harm for what he should tell them, he unfolded the whole matter. And when the Queen had heard it, she cried to Achilles, "O son of Thetis of the sea! help me now in this strait, and help this maiden that hath been called thy bride, though this indeed be false. 'Twill be a shame to thee if such wrong be done under thy name; for it is thy name that hath undone us. Nor have I any altar to which I may flee, nor any friend but thee only in this army."

Then Achilles made answer, "Lady, I learnt from Chiron, who was the most righteous of men, to be true and honest. And if the sons of Atreus govern according to right, I obey them; and if not, not. Know, then, that thy daughter, seeing that she hath been given, though but in word only, to me, shall not be slain by her father. For if she so die, then shall my name be brought to great dishonour, seeing that through it thou hast been persuaded to come with her to this place. This sword shall see right soon whether any one will dare to take this maiden from me."

And now King Agamemnon came forth, saying that all things were ready for the marriage, and that they waited for the maiden, not knowing that the whole matter had been revealed to the Queen. Then she said—

"Tell me now, dost thou purpose to slay thy daughter and mine?" And when he was silent, not knowing, indeed, what to say, she reproached him with many words, that she had been a loving and faithful wife to him, for which he made her an ill recompense slaying her child.

And when she had made an end of speaking, the maiden came forth from the tent, holding the young child Orestes in her arms, and cast herself upon her knees before her father, and besought him, saying, "I would, my father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, who made even the rocks to follow him, that I might persuade thee; but now all that I have I give, even these tears. O my father, I am thy child; slay me not before my time. This light is sweet to look upon. Drive me not from it to the land of darkness. I was the first to call thee father; and the first to whom thou didst say 'my child.' And thou wouldst say to me, 'Some day, my child, I shall see thee a happy wife in the home of a rich husband.' And I would answer, 'And I will receive thee with all love when thou art old, and pay thee back for all the benefits thou hast done unto me.' This I indeed remember, but thou forgettest; for thou art ready to slay me. Do it not, I beseech thee, by Pelops thy grandsire, and Atreus thy father, and this my mother, who travailed in childbirth of me, and now travaileth again in her sorrow. And thou, O my brother, though thou art but a babe, help me. Weep with me; beseech thy father that he slay not thy sister. O my father, though he be silent, yet, indeed, he beseecheth thee. For his sake, therefore, yea, and for mine own, have pity upon me, and slay me not."

But the King was sore distracted, knowing not what he should say or do, for a terrible necessity was upon him, seeing that the army could not make their journey to Troy unless this deed should first be done. And while he doubted came Achilles, saying that there was a horrible tumult in the camp, the men crying out that the maiden must be sacrificed, and that when he would have stayed them from their purpose, the people had stoned him with stones, and that his own Myrmidons helped him not; but rather were the first to assail him. Nevertheless, he said that he would fight for the maiden, even to the utmost; and that there were faithful men who would stand with him and help him. But when the maiden heard these words, she stood forth and said, "Hearken to me, my mother. Be not wroth with my father, for we cannot fight against fate. Also we must take thought that this young man suffer not, for his help will avail nought, and he himself will perish. Therefore I am resolved to die; for all Greece looketh to me; for without me the ships cannot make their voyage, nor the city of Troy be taken. Thou didst bear me, my mother, not for thyself only, but for this whole people. Wherefore I will give myself for them. Offer me for an offering; and let the Greeks take the city of Troy, for this shall be my memorial for ever."

Then said Achilles, "Lady, I should count myself most happy if the Gods would grant thee to be my wife. For I love thee well, when I see thee how noble thou art. And if thou wilt, I will carry thee to my home. And I doubt not that I shall save thee, though all the men of Greece be against me."

But the maiden answered, "What I say, I say with full purpose. Nor will I that any man should die for me, but rather will I save this land of Greece."

And Achilles said, "If this be thy will, lady, I cannot say nay, for it is a noble thing that thou doest."

Nor was the maiden turned from her purpose though her mother besought her with many tears. So they that were appointed led her to the grove of Artemis, where there was built an altar, and the whole army of the Greeks gathered about it. But when the King saw her going to her death he covered his face with his mantle; but she stood by him, and said, "I give my body with a willing heart to die for my country and for the whole land of Greece. I pray the Gods that ye may prosper, and win the victory in this war, and come back safe to your homes. And now let no man touch me, for I will offer my neck to the sword with a good heart."

And all men marvelled to see the maiden of what a good courage she was. Then the herald Talthybius stood in the midst and commanded silence to the people; and Calchas the soothsayer put a garland about her head, and drew a sharp knife from his sheath. And all the army stood regarding the maiden and the priest and the altar.

Then there befell a marvellous thing. For Calchas struck with his knife, for the sound of the stroke all men heard, but the maiden was not there. Whither she had gone no one knew; but in her stead there lay gasping a great hind, and all the altar was red with the blood thereof.

And Calchas said, "See ye this, men of Greece, how the goddess hath provided this offering in the place of the maiden, for she would not that her altar should be defiled with innocent blood. Be of good courage, therefore, and depart every man to his ship, for this day ye shall sail across the sea to the land of Troy."

But how it fared with the maiden may be read in the story of "Iphigenia among the Taurians."



THE STORY OF PHILOCTETES, OR THE BOW OF HERCULES.

Prince Philoctetes, who reigned in Methone, which is in the land of Thessaly, sailed with the other Princes of Greece to make war against the great city of Troy. For he also had been one of the suitors of Helen the Fair, and had bound himself with a great oath that he would avenge her and her husband, whomsoever she should choose, on any man that should dare to do her wrong. Now Philoctetes had been companion to Hercules in many of his labours, and also had been with him when he died upon Mount AEta. For which cause Hercules gave him the bow and the arrows which he bare, having received them at the first from Apollo. A very mighty bow it was, shooting arrows so as none other could do, and the arrows were sure dealers of death, for they had been dipped in the blood of the great dragon of Lerna, and the wounds which they made no physician might heal. But it chanced that the Prince, being on his voyage to Troy, landed at the island of Chrysa, where there was an altar of Athene, the goddess of the place, and, desiring to show the altar to his companions, he approached it too nearly; whereupon the serpent that guarded it lest it should be profaned, bit him in the foot. The wound was very sore and could not be healed, but tormented him day and night with grievous pains, making him groan and cry aloud. And when men were troubled with his complainings, and also with the noisome stench of his wound, the chiefs took counsel together, and it seemed good to the sons of Atreus, King Agamemnon and King Menelaues, who were the leaders of the host, that he should be left alone on the island of Lemnos. This matter they committed to Ulysses, who did according to their bidding. But when the Greeks had laid siege to the city of Troy, nigh upon ten years, they remembered Prince Philoctetes and how they had dealt with him. For now the great Achilles was dead, having been slain by Prince Paris with an arrow in the Scaean Gate, when he was ready to break into the city; and the soothsayers affirmed that the Greeks should not have their wish upon Troy, till they should bring against it the great archer to whom they had done wrong. Then the chiefs took counsel together, and chose Ulysses, who was crafty beyond all other men, to accomplish this matter, and with him they sent Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, who excelled in strength, even as his father had done.

Now when these two were landed upon the island, Ulysses led the way to the place where in time past he had left Philoctetes. A cave it was in the cliff, with two mouths to it, of which the one looked to the east and the other to the west, so that in winter time a man might see the sun and be warm, but in summer the wind blew through it, bringing coolness and sleep, and a little below was a spring of fair water to drink. Then said Ulysses to Neoptolemus, "Go and spy out the place, and see whether or no the man be there."

And the Prince went up and looked into the cave, and found that it was empty, but that there were signs of one who dwelt there, a bed of leaves, and a cup of wood, very rudely fashioned, and pieces of wood for kindling fires, and also, a very piteous sight, the rags wherewith the sick man was wont to dress his wound. And when he had told what he saw, Ulysses said, "That the man dwelleth here is manifest; nor can he be far away, for how can one that is wounded travel far? Doubtless he is gone to some place whither the birds resort to slay them, or, haply, to find some herb wherewith to assuage his pain. But do thou set one who will wait for his coming, for it would fare ill with me should he find me."

And when the watch had been set Ulysses said again, "I will tell what it is needful for thee to say and do. Only thou must be bold, son of Achilles, and that not only with thy hand, but in heart also, if what I shall now unfold to thee shall seem new or strange. Hearken then: when the man shall ask thee who thou art and whence thou comest, thou shalt answer him that thou art the son of Achilles, and that thou hast left the host of the Greeks, because they had done thee great wrong, for that, having prayed thee to come as not being able to take the great city of Troy without thee, yet they would not deliver to thee the arms of thy father Achilles, but gave them to Ulysses. And here thou mayest speak against me all kinds of evil, for such words will not trouble me, but if thou accomplish not this thing thou wilt trouble the whole host of the Greeks. For know that without this man's bow thou canst not take the city of Troy; know also that thou only canst approach him without peril, not being of the number of those who sailed with him at the first. And if it please thee not to get the bow by stealth, for this indeed thou must do—and I know thee to be one that loveth not to speak falsely or to contrive deceit—yet bethink thee that victory is sweet. Be thou bold to-day, and we will be righteous to-morrow."

Then the Prince made reply, "'Tis not in me, son of Laertes, to work by craft and guile, neither was it in my father before me. I am ready to carry off this man with a strong arm; and how, being a cripple, shall he stand against us? but deceit I will not use. And though I should be loath to fail thee in this our common enterprise, yet were this better than to prevail by fraud."

Then said Ulysses, "And I, too, in my youth would do all things by the hand and not by the tongue; but now I know that the tongue hath alone the mastery."

And the Prince replied, "But thou biddest me speak the thing that is false."

"I bid thee prevail over Philoctetes by craft."

"But why may I not persuade him, or even constrain him by force?"

"To persuasion he will not hearken, and force thou mayest not use, for he hath arrows that deal death without escape."

"But is it not a base thing for a man to lie?"

"Surely not, if a lie save him."

"Tell me what is the gain to me if this man come to Troy."

"Without this bow and these arrows Troy falleth not. For though it is the pleasure of the Gods that thou take the city, yet canst not thou take it without these, nor indeed these without thee."

And when the Prince had mused awhile, he said, "If this be so with the arms, I must needs get them."

Then Ulysses said, "Do this, and thou shalt gain a double honour."

And the Prince said, "What meanest thou by thy 'double honour'? Tell me, and I refuse no more."

"The praise of wisdom and of courage also."

"Be it so: I will do this deed, nor count it shame."

"'Tis well," said Ulysses, "and now I will despatch this watcher to the ship, whom I will send again in pilot's disguise if thou desire, and it seems needful. Also I myself will depart, and may Hermes, the god of craft, and Athene, who ever is with me, cause us to prevail."

After a while Philoctetes came up the path to the cave very slowly, and with many groans. And when he saw the strangers (for now some of the ship's crew were with Prince Neoptolemus) he cried, "Who are ye that are come to this inhospitable land? Greeks I know you to be by your garb; but tell me more."

And when the Prince had told his name and lineage, and that he was sailing from Troy, Philoctetes cried, "Sayest thou from Troy? Yet surely thou didst not sail with us in the beginning."

"What?" cried the Prince. "Hadst thou then a share in this matter of Troy?"

And Philoctetes made reply, "Knowest thou not whom thou seest? Hast thou not heard the story of my sorrows?" And when he heard that the young man knew nothing of these things: "Surely this is sorrow upon sorrow if no report of my state hath come to the land of Greece, and I lie here alone, and my disease groweth upon me, but my enemies laugh and keep silence!" And then he told his name and fortunes, and how the Greeks had left him on the shore while he slept, and how it was the tenth year of his sojourning in the island. "For know," he said, "that it is without haven or anchorage, and no man cometh hither of his free will; and if any come unwilling, as indeed it doth sometimes chance, they speak soft words to me and give me, haply, some meat; but when I make suit to them that they carry me to my home, they will not. And this wrong the sons of Atreus and Ulysses have worked against me; for which may the Gods who dwell in Olympus make them equal recompense."

"And I," said the Prince, "am no lover of these men. For when Achilles was dead—"

"How sayest thou? Is the son of Peleus dead?"

"Yea; but it was the hand of a God and not of a man that slew him."

"A mighty warrior slain by a mighty foe! But say on."

"Ulysses, and Phoenix who was my sire's foster-father, came in a ship to fetch me; and when I was come to the camp they even greeted me kindly, and sware that it was Achilles' self they saw, so like was I to my sire. And, my mourning ended, I sought the sons of Atreus and asked of them the arms of my father, but they made answer that they had given them to Ulysses; and Ulysses, chancing to be there, affirmed that they had done well, seeing that he had saved them from the enemy. And when I could prevail nothing, I sailed away in great wrath."

"'Tis even," Philoctetes made reply, "as I should have judged of them. But I marvel that the Greater Ajax endured to see such doings."

"Ah! but he was already dead."

"This is grievous news. And how fares old Nestor of Pylos?"

"But ill, for his eldest born, Antilochus, is dead."

"I could have spared any rather than these two, Ajax and Antilochus. But Patroclus, where was he when thy father died?"

"He was already slain. For 'tis ever thus that war taketh the true man and leaveth the false. But of these things I have had enough and more than enough. Henceforth my island of Scyros, though it be rocky and small, shall content me. And now, Prince Philoctetes, I go, for the wind favours us, and we must take the occasion which the Gods give us."

And when Philoctetes knew that Neoptolemus was about to depart, he besought him with many prayers that he would take him also on his ship; for the voyage, he said, would not be of more than a single day. "Put me," he said, "where thou wilt, in forecastle, or hold, or stern, and set me on shore even as it may seem best to thee. Only take me from this place." And the sailors also made entreaty to the Prince that he would do so; and he, after a while, made as if he consented to their prayers.

But while Philoctetes was yet thanking him and his companions, there came two men to the cave, of whom one was a sailor in the Prince's ship, and the other a merchant. And the merchant said that he was sailing from Troy to his home, and that chancing to come to the island, and knowing that the Prince was there, he judged it well to tell him his news; 'twas briefly this, that Phoenix and the sons of Theseus had sailed, having orders from the sons of Atreus that they should bring the Prince back; and also that Ulysses and Diomed were gone on another errand, even to fetch some one of whom the rulers had need. And when the Prince would know who he might be, the merchant bade him say who it was standing near, and when he heard that it was Philoctetes, he cried, "Haste thee to thy ship, son of Achilles, for this is the very man whom the two are coming to fetch. Haply thou hast not heard what befell at Troy. There is a certain Helenus, son of King Priam, and a famous soothsayer. Him Ulysses, the man of craft, took a prisoner, and brought into the assembly of Greeks; and the man prophesied to them that they should never take the city of Troy, unless they should bring thither the Prince Philoctetes from the island whereon he dwelt. And Ulysses said,' If I bring not the man, whether willing or unwilling, then cut off my head.'"

And when Philoctetes heard this his anger was very great, and he became yet more eager to depart. But first he must go into the cave and fetch such things as he needed, herbs with which he was wont to soothe the pains of his wounds, and all the furniture of his bow. And when he spake of the bow, the Prince asked whether it was indeed the famous bow of Hercules that he carried in his hand, and would fain, he said, touch it, if only it were lawful so to do. And Philoctetes answered, "Yes, thou shalt touch it and handle it, which, indeed, no other man hath ever done, for thou hast done a good deed to me, and it was for a good deed that I myself also received it."

But when they would have gone towards the ship, the pangs of his wound came upon Philoctetes. And then at first he cried, saying, that it was well with him; but at the last, he could endure no more, and cried to the Prince that he should draw his sword and smite off the foot, nor heed if he should slay him; only he would be rid of the pain. And then he bade him take the bow and keep it for him while he slept, for that sleep came ever upon him after these great pains. Only he must keep it well, especially if those two, Ulysses and Diomed, should chance to come in the meanwhile. And when the Prince had promised this, Philoctetes gave him the bow, saying, "Take it, my son, and pray to the jealous Gods that it bring not sorrow to thee as it hath brought sorrow to me, and to him that was its master before me."

And after a while the sick man slept. And the Prince, with the sailors that were his companions, watched by him the while.

But when the sailors would have had the Prince depart, seeing that he had now the great bow and the arrows, for whose sake he had come, he would not, for they would be of no avail, he said, without the archer himself. And in no long space of time the sick man woke. Right glad was he to see that the strangers had not departed, for, indeed, he had scarce hoped that this might be. Therefore commending the young man much for his courage and loving kindness, he would have him help him straightway to the ship, that his pain having now ceased awhile, they might be ready to depart without delay. So they went, but the Prince was sorely troubled in his mind and cried, "Now what shall I do?" and "now am I at my wits' end so that even words fail me." At which words, indeed, Philoctetes was grieved, thinking that it repented the Prince of his purpose, so that he said, "Doth the trouble of my disease then hinder thee from taking me in thy ship?"

Then said the Prince, "All is trouble when a man leaveth his nature to do things that are not fitting."

And Philoctetes made answer, "Nay, is not this a fitting thing, seeing of what sire thou art the son, to help a brave man in his trouble?"

"Can I endure to be so base," said the Prince, "hiding that which I should declare, and speaking the thing that is false?" And while Philoctetes still doubted whether he repented not of his purpose, he cried aloud, "I will hide the thing no longer. Thou shalt sail with me to Troy."

"What sayest thou?"

"I say that thou shalt be delivered from these pains, and shalt prevail together with me over the great city of Troy."

"What treachery is this? What hast thou done to me? Give me back the bow."

"Nay, that I cannot do, for I am under authority, and must needs obey."

And when Philoctetes heard these words, he cried with a very piteous voice, "What a marvel of wickedness thou art that hast done this thing. Art thou not ashamed to work such wrong to a suppliant? Give me my bow, for it is my life. But I speak in vain, for he goeth away and heedeth me not. Hear me then, ye waters and cliffs, and ye beasts of the field, who have been long time my wonted company, for I have none else to hearken to me. Hear what the son of Achilles hath done to me. For he sware that he would carry me to my home, and lo! he taketh me to Troy. And he gave me the right hand of fellowship, and now he robbeth me of the bow, the sacred bow of Hercules. Nay—for I will make trial of him once more—give back this thing to me and be thy true self. What sayest thou? Nothing? Then am I undone. O cavern of the rock wherein I have dwelt, behold how desolate I am! Nevermore shall I slay with my arrows bird of the air or beast of the field; but that which I hunted shall pursue me, and that on which I fed shall devour me."

And the Prince was cut to the heart when he heard these words, hating the thing which he had done, and cursing the day on which he had come from Scyros to the plains of Troy. Then turning himself to the sailors, he asked what he should do, and was even about to give back the bow, when Ulysses, who was close at hand, watching what should be done, ran forth crying that he should hold his hand.

Then said Philoctetes, "Is this Ulysses that I see? Then am I undone."

"'Tis even so: and as for what thou askest of this youth, that he should give back the bow, he shall not do it; but rather thou shalt sail with us to Troy; and if thou art not willing, these that stand by shall take thee by force."

"Lord of fire, that rulest this land of Lemnos, hearest thou this?"

"Nay, 'tis Zeus that is master here, and Zeus hath commanded this deed."

"What lies are these? Thou makest the Gods false as thyself."

"Not so. They are true and I also. But this journey thou must take."

"Methinks I am a slave, and not freeborn, that thou talkest thus."

"Thou art peer to the bravest, and with them shalt take the great city of Troy."

"Never; I had sooner cast myself down from this cliff."

Then Ulysses cried to the men that they should lay hold on him; and this they straightway did. Then Philoctetes in many words reproached him with all the wrongs that he had done; how at the first he had caused him to be left on this island, and now had stolen his arms, not with his own hands, indeed, but with craft and deceit, serving himself of a simple youth, who knew not but to do as he was bidden. And he prayed to the Gods that they would avenge him on all that had done him wrong, and chiefly on this man Ulysses.

Then Ulysses made reply, "I can be all things as occasion serveth; such as thou sayest, if need be; and yet no man more pious if the time call for goodness and justice. One thing only I must needs do, and that is to prevail. Yet here I will yield to thee. Thou wilt not go; so be it. Loose him! We need thee not, having these arms of thine. Teucer is with us, an archer not one whit less skilful than thou. And now I leave thee to this Lemnos of thine. May be this bow shall bring me the honour which thou refusest."

When he had thus spoken he departed, and the Prince Neoptolemus with him. Only the Prince gave permission to the sailors that they should tarry with the sick man till it was time to make ready for the voyage.

Then Philoctetes bewailed himself, crying to his bow, "O my bow, my beloved, that they have wrested from my hands, surely, if thou knowest aught, thou grievest to see that the man who was the comrade of Hercules will never hold thee more, but that base hands will grasp thee, mixing thee with all manner of deceit." And then again he called to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field, that they should not fly from him any more, seeing that he had now no help against them, but should come and avenge themselves upon him and devour him. And still the sailors would have comforted him. Also they sought to persuade him that he should listen to the chiefs; but he would not, crying that the lightning should smite him before he would go to Troy and help them that had done him such wrong. And at the last he cried that they should give him a spear or a sword, that he might be rid of his life.

But while they thus talked together, the Prince came back like one that is in haste, with Ulysses following him, who cried, "Wherefore turnest thou back?"

"To undo what I did amiss."

"How sayest thou? When didst thou thus?"

"When I listened to thee, and used deceit to a brave man."

"What wilt thou then? (I fear me much what this fool may do.)"

"I will give back this bow and these arrows to him from whom I took them by craft."

"That shalt thou not do."

"But who shall hinder me?"

"That will I, and all the sons of the Greeks with me."

"This is idle talk for a wise man as thou art."

"Seest thou this sword whereto I lay my hand?"

"If thou talkest of swords, thou shalt see right soon that I also have a sword."

"Well—I let thee alone. To the host will I tell this matter; they shall judge thee."

"Now thou speakest well; be ever as wise; so shalt thou keep thy foot out of trouble."

Then the Prince called to Philoctetes, who, being loosed by the sailors, had hidden himself in the cave, and asked of him again whether he were willing to sail with him, or were resolved to abide in the island.

And when the man had denied that he would go, and had begun again to call down a curse on the sons of Atreus, and on Ulysses, and on the Prince himself, then the Prince bade him stay his speech, and gave him back the bow and the arrows.

And when Ulysses, seeing this deed, was very wroth, and threatened vengeance, Philoctetes put an arrow to the string, and drew the bow to the full, and would have shot at the man, but the Prince stayed his hand.

And then again the Prince was urgent with him that he should cease from his anger, and should sail with him to Troy, saying that there he should be healed by the great physician, the son of Asclepius, and should also win great glory by taking the city, and that right soon; for that the soothsayer Helenus had declared that it was the will of the Gods that the city of Troy should be taken that same summer.

But for all this he prevailed nothing; for Philoctetes was obstinate that he would not go to Troy, nor do any pleasure to the chiefs who had done him such wrong. But he would that the Prince should fulfil the promise which he had made, that he would carry him in his ship to his own country. And this the Prince said that he would do.

And now the two were about to depart to the ship, when lo! there appeared in the air above their heads the great Hercules. Very wonderful was he to behold, with bright raiment, and a great glory shining from his face, even as the everlasting Gods beheld him with whom he dwelt in the place of Olympus. And Hercules spake, saying—

"Go not yet, son of Poeas, before thou hearest what I shall say to thee. For 'tis Hercules whom thou seest and hearest; and I am come from my dwelling in heaven to declare to thee the will of Zeus. Know then that even as I attained to this blessedness after much toil, so shall it be with thee. For thou shalt go to the land of Troy; and first thou shalt be healed of thy grievous sickness, and afterwards thou shalt slay Paris with thine arrows, and shalt take the city of Troy, whereof thou shalt carry the spoils to thy home, even to Poeas thy father, having received from thy fellows the foremost prize for valour. But remember that all that thou winnest in this warfare thou must take as an offering to my tomb. And to thee, son of Achilles, I say; thou canst not take the city of Troy without this man, nor he without thee. Whereof, as two lions that consort together, guard ye each other. And I will send Asclepius to heal him of his sickness; for it is the will of the Gods that Troy should yet again be taken by my bow. And remember this, when ye lay waste the land, to have the Gods and that which belongeth to them in reverence."

Then said Philoctetes, "O my master, whom I have long desired to hear and see, I will do as thou sayest."

And the Prince also gave his consent.

Then Philoctetes bade farewell to the island in these words—

"Home that hast watched with me, farewell! And nymphs that haunt the springs or dwell In seaward meadows, and the roar Of waves that break upon the shore; Where often, through the cavern's mouth, The drifting of the rainy South Hath coldly drenched me as I lay; And Hermes' hill, whence many a day, When anguish seized me, to my cry Hoarse-sounding echo made reply. O fountains of the land, and thou, Pool of the Wolf, I leave you now; Beyond all hope I leave thy strand, O Lemnos, sea-encircled land! Grant me with favouring winds to go Whither the mighty Fates command, And this dear company of friends, And mastering Powers who shape our ends To issues fairer than we know."



THE STORY OF THE DEATH OF AGAMEMNON.

On the roof of King Agamemnon's palace in Argos a watchman sat watching. So had he sat night after night, through a whole year, nor was there one of the stars of heaven which he had not seen to rise and set. And as he watched, his eyes were fixed ever on the north, looking for the signal of fire which should bring good tidings to the Queen and to all Argos. For now the great city of Troy was tottering to its fall, and the ten years' toil was coming to an end.

And lo! even as it drew towards morning, there was a light in the sky that was not the light of the sun, and the man cried aloud, "Now blessed be this light that I have watched for, seeing that it bringeth good tidings to this land. I will straightway to the Queen that she send the news about the city. And may the Gods grant that I join hand to hand with my master when he cometh back to his home, wherein if there be aught that is ill-ordered, who am I that I should speak thereof? Let the walls cry out, if they will, only I will keep silence."

Then he made haste and told the Queen, who sent messengers throughout Argos, bidding that men should burn thank-offerings of incense on every altar. Also she would that the old men, who were the chiefs and counsellors of the city, should be gathered together to the palace, that they might know the truth of the matter. And while they waited for the Queen, they talked much of what had been in days gone by, in the beginning of the ten years' war, when King Agamemnon, with King Menelaues, who was his brother, sailed from that very land of Argos, seeking vengeance for Queen Helen. And one said, "Remember ye not what we saw when the army set forth from the city? how upon the right hand as they marched there appeared two eagles, one black altogether and the other with feathers of white in him, that devoured a hare big with young ones? and how Calchas, the soothsayer, interpreted the thing, saying, 'The eagles are the two kings; and as these have devoured the hare, so shall the kings devour the city of Troy together with her children! Only we must needs pray that there come not wrath upon the army. For Queen Artemis loveth not these winged dogs of her father Zeus, even the eagles. And if her anger be kindled against us, we shall not turn it away save by an evil sacrifice, from which also shall spring great wrath in the time to come. Therefore may Apollo help us, who is the healer of all evils,' So spake Calchas, the soothsayer, knowing indeed that Queen Artemis was wroth with King Agamemnon, for that he had hunted and slain, even in her own grove, a beautiful hart which she loved."

Then said another of the elders, "Nor indeed did the wrath of the goddess tarry. For when the army was gathered together in Aulis she caused that the winds blew ever from the north and hindered the ships from their voyage, so that the men were pinched with hunger and wasted with disease. Then said Calchas, the soothsayer, 'This is the thing whereof I spake: the goddess asketh the sacrifice that thou knowest of.' But when the kings heard this, they wept, and smote with their sceptres upon the ground. And King Agamemnon said, 'How shall I do this thing, and slay my own daughter, even Iphigenia, who is the joy and beauty of my dwelling? Yet it were base to be false to them that have trusted me to be their leader in this war. Therefore the Gods shall have their will.' Thus he hardened his heart to the evil work; nor did the chiefs have pity on her for all that she was young and fair exceedingly. So when the priests had ended their prayers, her father bade the ministers take her as she lay with her robes about her, and lift her up on the altar, even as men lift a kid which they slay for sacrifice, putting a bridle upon her lips, that she should not cry aloud. Then she let fall to the earth her saffron veil, being fair to see as a very lovely picture, and smote all that stood by with a look exceeding piteous: yea, and would fain have spoken to them, for often had they heard her voice when she sang in the guest-hall of her father. But of the end what need to speak? Who knoweth it not? For indeed the counsels of Calchas were fulfilled."

While they talked these things one to another the Queen Clytaemnestra came forth from the palace, and they asked her, "Hast thou heard good news, O Queen, that thou biddest them burn incense on the altars?"

"Good news, indeed," she said, "for the Greeks have taken the great city of Troy."

And when they doubted if this could be so, and would know when the thing had happened, and how she had heard it so speedily, she set the matter forth to them, as the king had ordered it. "For first," she said, "they made a great fire on Mount Ida, which is over Troy; and from Ida the light passed to the island of Lemnos, and from Lemnos to the mountain of Athos. But Athos sent it on southward across the sea, on a path of gold like the sunshine, even to Makistus in Euboea, and Makistus to Messapius, and Messapius, kindling a great pile of heath, sent it, bright as is the moon, across the plain of the Asopus to the cliffs of Cithaeron. And from Cithaeron it travelled, brighter than before, by the lake Gorgopis to the hill of AEgiplanctus, which looketh down upon the Saronic gulf, and hence to Arachneues, which is hard by the city. Thus hath the King sent the tidings to me."

"Tell us more," said the old man, "for we can scarcely believe this thing."

"Of a truth," said the Queen, "this day the Greeks possess the city of Troy, wherein, I trow, are many things which ill agree. For women are making lamentation for husbands and brothers slain with the sword, while the conquerors feast and live softly, being quit of hunger and cold and watchings. Only let them do honour to the gods of the city, nor lay hands greedy of gain on that which is holy. So shall they have a safe return. But if they anger the Gods, haply there shall come upon them the vengeance of them that are slain."

Then the Queen departed, and the old men spake again among themselves. "Now are the sinners, the men of Troy, caught in the net of destruction! Long since did Zeus bend the bow and make it ready against the transgressor, and now hath the arrow sped to the mark! Evil was the day when Paris shamed the table of his host, stealing the wife of his bosom! Evil the hour when she went, as one that goeth lightly and carelessly, through the gates of Troy, and brought with her the dowry of destruction and death. Sorrow she left behind her in her home; the desolate couch and the empty hall, for here, the grace of the shapely statues mocked her husband's grief with the stony stare of their loveless eyes, and there, but the empty joy remained that dwells in the dreams of the night. Aye! and a sorrow she left that was greater than this. For the heroes went forth from the land of Greece, valiant and wise and true; and lo! all that Ares, the changer, but not of money, sendeth back is a handful of ashes shut in an urn of brass! Therefore there is wrath in the city against the sons of Atreus, the leaders of the host; nor does the vengeance of the Gods forget the shedder of blood."

But while they talked thus among themselves, some yet doubting whether the thing were true, cried one of them, "Now shall we know the certainty of this matter, for here cometh a herald with leaves of olive on his head, and he hath dust on his garments and mire on his feet, as one who cometh from a journey."

Then the herald, whose name was Talthybius, came to the place where they had assembled, and when he had saluted Zeus and Apollo, whom, having been an enemy at Troy, he would fain have as friend, and Hermes, who was the god of his heralds' craft he said, "Know ye all that King Agamemnon hath come, having, by the help of Zeus, executed judgment to the full against Troy and her children, for the evil which they wrought against the Gods and against this land."

Then he told the elders what things they had suffered, first on sea, being crowded together on shipboard; and then on land, having their lodging near to the walls of their enemies, and under the open canopy of heaven, being drenched with rains and dews, and frozen with snows from Mount Ida, and burnt with the sun in the windless days of summer. "But now," he said, "these things are past and gone. And we will nail the spoils of Troy in the temples of the Gods, to be a memorial for them that shall come after. But let the people rejoice, and praise their King and his captains."



Then came forth Queen Clytaemnestra, and said, "Mark ye who doubted, how that all things are even as I said. And now, herald, go tell thy lord that I wait to receive him with all honour; wherefore let him come with what speed he may; so shall he find a faithful guardian in his house who hath kept true watch and ward over all that he left behind, for this is the boast I make, both true and well beseeming a noble dame."

Then said the chief of the elders, "Listen to her, herald, for her words are fair. But tell me now, hath Menelaues had safe return?"

"Would," said he, "I had some better thing to tell! But what profiteth it to deceive? Truly, the man, together with his ship, is vanished out of our sight."

"Sailed he then before you?" said the elder, "or was he parted from you in a storm?"

"Twas even so," answered the herald.

"And did men judge of him as living or dead?"

"That, indeed, no man knoweth, but only the sun who seeth all things. But hearken, I will declare the whole matter. There went out wrath from heaven against us. For after we had set sail, the waves rose high in the night, and the fierce winds from the north dashed our ships one against another, so that when the morning came, lo! the sea was covered with bodies of men and wrecks. But the ship of the King suffered not, for the hand of a god, I trow, and not of a man, held the helm. But be of good cheer. For doubtless they too think of us as of those that have perished, even as we of them. And as for Menelaues, be assured that he will yet return, for the will of Zeus is not that this house should perish."

Then said one of the old men, "Rightly they named her Helen, for like hell hath she devoured men and ships, aye, and this great city of Troy. I have heard tell how a man reared a lion's cub in his house. Very pleasant was he at the first, for the children played with him, and he made sport for the old; but when he grew he showed the temper of his race, and filled the house with blood. Even so came Helen, smiling and fair, to Troy, and now behold the end! But here cometh King Agamemnon. Let us greet him in fitting fashion."

And as he spake the King came near to the doors of the palace, sitting in a chariot drawn by mules; and by him sat Cassandra, who was daughter to King Priam, having been given to him by the princes when they divided the spoil of Troy. And when the King had saluted the Gods, giving them thanks that they had helped him to take vengeance on the men of Troy, and had also set forth his purpose to order all things in a regular assembly if anything had been done amiss in his absence, there came forth the Queen to greet him, saying, "I am not ashamed, men of Argos, to confess that with great gladness of heart I receive my husband. For truly it is an evil lot for a woman when she sitteth alone in her house, hearing continually rumours and tidings of misfortune. Verily, had my lord here been wounded as oft as fame related this thing of him, these same wounds had been more in number than the meshes of a net; and had he died as often as men reported him dead, three bodies such as the story telleth Geryon to have had, had not sufficed him. Hence it is, O King, that our son Orestes is not here, for I sent him to Strophius the Phocian, who is, as thou knowest, an ancient friend of our house, fearing, if aught should befall thee at Troy, lest some tumult of the people should work harm also unto him. Scant truly and light have been my slumbers, and with many tears have I watched for thee. And now thou art come, what shall I say? Truly this man is to me as the strong pillar of a roof, as an only child to a father, as land seen beyond all hope by sailors, after much toil at sea, as a clear shining after storm, as a fountain springing forth to one that journeyeth in a thirsty land. And now, my lord, I would that thou step from thy car, not setting thy foot upon the earth, seeing that it hath trampled upon the great city of Troy. Why linger ye, ye maids? Strew the pathway with carpeting of purple!"

And King Agamemnon made answer, "Truly, daughter of Leda, thy speech hath been even as my absence, exceeding long. But why dost thou pamper me with luxury, or make my goings hateful to the Gods, strewing this purple under my feet? It is not well, me thinks, that a man should trample on such wealth."



"Nay," said the Queen, "be content. Thinkest thou that Priam would not have walked on purple if perchance he had been the conqueror?"

And after they had talked awhile, she prevailed, only the King bade them loose the sandals from under his feet, thinking it shame to waste the substance of his house. Also he gave commandment that they should deal very kindly with the strange woman that had ridden with him in his chariot, for that the Gods have a favour unto them that use their victory with mercy. And when he had said these things he went into the palace, the Queen leading the way.

Then one of the elders said, "There is a nameless fear in my heart; and when I should rejoice for the return of the King and the host, a voice of boding riseth to my lips. If a man be wealthy above measure, let him fling over-board a part, and so escape shipwreck of his house. But blood that hath been spilt upon the earth, what charmer can bring back? Did not Zeus slay the man who raised the dead? For a while 'twere best to be silent."

Then the Queen came forth from the palace, and bade Cassandra descend from the car and enter the gates. For why, she said, should she struggle against fate which made her to be a slave? Happy indeed was the lot which had brought her to a house of ancient wealth. 'Twas the newly rich that used harshness to their slaves. But her persuasion availed nothing with the maiden, for she sat and made no answer; and though the old men joined their counsel to the same end, she moved not nor spake. But when the Queen was departed again into the palace, she began to cry aloud, like unto one that was possessed, that there came a smell from the house, as the smell of a slaughter-house, and that she saw the shapes of children who had been cruelly murdered; and then, that another crime was now about to be wrought, a bath made ready, and an entangling robe, and a double-headed axe lifted to strike. And then she spake of herself, that the doom was upon her, and that the King had brought her to die with him, and that she should fall even as the city of her father had fallen. But after awhile her fury abated, and she began to speak plainly. And first she told the elders how it came to pass that she had this gift of prophecy, that she could see what had been, as indeed she had spoken of ancient wickedness that had been done in the house, and also could tell beforehand what should come hereafter. For that Apollo had loved her, and had given her this art; but, because she had deceived him, he had added thereto this curse, that no one should believe her even speaking truth. And then she told them that the old crimes of the house should end in yet another crime; that there was one in the house, a woman to look at, but in truth a very Scylla, a monster of the sea. And at the last she declared plainly that they should see the King Agamemnon lying dead. But the curse was upon her, and they believed her not And then crying out that she saw a lioness that had taken a wolf to be her paramour, she cast away the tokens of prophecy that she carried, the staff from her hand, and the necklace from about her neck. And when she had done this she went to the palace gates, knowing that she went to her death. But first she said that there should come an avenger who should execute vengeance for his father that had been slain and also for her. And when she was arrived at the door of the palace, at the first she started back, for the smell of blood smote her in the face; but then she took heart again and passed on. Only first she turned and said, "O Sun, whose light I see now for the last time, grant that the hand that taketh vengeance for the King may take it also for the slave-woman whom they slay—a conquest, in good sooth, right easy to be made."

But while the old men doubted what these things might mean, saying that no man could trust in prosperous fortune, if the King, who had won such a victory over the city of Troy, should himself perish, there came a dreadful voice from within, crying out, "Woe is me! I am smitten with a mortal blow!" And while they doubted, it came again, crying, "Woe again! I am smitten with a second blow!" Then they debated what were best to do; and one would have them call to the citizens for help, and another that they should rush into the palace; and some doubted whether aught might now avail. And lo! the great doors of the palace were thrown back and there appeared a dreadful sight—two dead bodies, covered each with a veil, and the Queen, with an axe in her hand, standing beside them, who said—

"I spake before words fitting the time, and now I am not ashamed to speak that which is contrary to them. For this is in truth an old purpose that I have executed. Yea, from the day that he shed the innocent blood, even the blood of Iphigenia, my daughter, it hath been in my heart to slay him. I threw a net about him, whence there was no escape, entangling his limbs in a royal robe. Twice I smote him; twice he groaned, stretching out his limbs in death; aye, and a third blow I added—my offering of thanks to the Ruler of the dead. Right glad was I when the blood spirted on me; glad as the seed when the increase-giving rain cometh down from the sky."

Then the old men, the counsellors of the city, cried shame upon her that she had done so foul a deed, saying that the people should curse her and cast her out. But she was not one whit fearful or ashamed, saying that he whom she had slain was a man of blood, and unfaithful, and that he had suffered a just punishment together with his paramour. And when they made lamentation over the King that he had been treacherously slain, she said, "Think not that I am this dead man's wife, as indeed I seem to be; rather am I the avenger that executeth judgment for the ancient evils of this house."

And when they cried, "O my King, who shall do thee due honour at thy burial, and speak thy praise, and weep for thee?" she made reply, "Trouble not yourselves with these things. As I slew him so will I bury him. And though many tears follow him not from his house, yet doubtless when he cometh to the dwellings of the dead, Iphigenia, his daughter, whom he loved, will meet him, and throw her arms about him, and kiss him, so dear a father he was to her."



And while they talked thus with each other, there came forward the Prince AEgisthus, with his guard about him, boasting that now the wrongs of his father Thyestes were avenged. Then again the strife of words grew fierce, for the counsellors reproached the Prince that he was treacherous, having bound himself with a false woman against his lord the King; and cowardly also and base, in that he had not dared to do this deed himself, but had left it to the hands of another; also they prophesied that Orestes should come and execute the just judgment of the Gods on them that had slain his father. And the Prince endured not to hear such words, but threatened bonds and imprisonment. So had strife nearly begun, for AEgisthus called to his guards, and the counsellors would fain have roused the citizens, but the Queen, for indeed she would that the shedding of blood should have an end, spake and soothed the anger of the Prince, saying, "Heed not what these babblers say. Thou and I are rulers in this place, aye, and will order all things aright."

So the two lived together for a while in great pride and joy. But the blood cried against them from the ground, and the Gods forgat them not.



THE STORY OF ELECTRA, OR THE RETURN OF ORESTES.

When King Agamemnon was slain by his wicked wife Clytaemnestra, the boy Orestes his son had perished also by the hands of his mother, but that his sister Electra took him and delivered him out of the hands of them that would have slain him. And having saved him, she sent him to the house of Strophius the Phocian, who was a friend to the house of the King, her father. And here Orestes abode till he was of age and strength to fulfil the law. For the law of the land was that, if a man should be foully slain, his son should avenge him on him that had done this wrong. Also the youth sought counsel of Apollo at his oracle of Delphi, and the god answered him that he should avenge the blood of his father even upon her that bare him. Therefore, being now grown to manhood, he came to the city of Argos, having disguised himself that no man might know him. And he had with him Pylades that was the son of Strophius. Now these two loved each other exceedingly, so that men spake of them in after time as famous among friends. Also there came with Orestes an old man, a slave that had waited on him from a boy. Now the three had devised a story wherewith they might deceive the Queen and her husband; and being thus prepared they came into the city at dawn.



Then the old man spake, saying, "Son of Agamemnon, thou seest the city which thou hast long desired to see. There is the grove of Io, whom the gad-fly drave over the earth, and there on the left hand the temple of Here, which all men know, and before us the palace of the children of Pelops, a house of many woes, from which I carried thee forth in time past, when thy mother would have slain thee. But now we must take counsel and that speedily, for the sun is risen and hath wakened the birds, and we must be ready before that men come forth to their work."

Then Orestes made reply, "'Tis well said, old man. Hearken then to what I purpose. And first know that when I would hear from Apollo at his oracle in Delphi how I should best avenge my father, he bade me trust neither in shield nor spear, but accomplish the deed by craft. Do thou then go when occasion shall offer into the palace, and spy out the things that are therein. For they will not know thee who thou art, so changed art thou. And thou shalt tell them such a tale about me as shall surely deceive them. And we meanwhile will do honor to the spirit of my father at his grave, offering hair that has been shorn from my head and drink offerings, and afterwards will return and accomplish what shall remain to be done."

And when he had so spoken, he prayed, "O my country and ye gods of the land, help me, and thou house of my father which I have come at the bidding of the Gods to cleanse from the guilt of blood."

Then the old man said, "I hear the voice of some one that groans." And Orestes made answer, "Doubtless it is my sister Electra. Shall we stay and listen to her?" "Not so," said the old man, "let us do our business without delay." So they departed.

And then came forth Electra, making great lamentation for her father, and praying that the Gods would speedily send her brother Orestes to avenge him. And with her was a company of the daughters of Argos, who sought to comfort her, saying that it was idle to make such weeping and moaning for the dead; and that others also were in like case with her; and that she should have patience, for that time would bring punishment on the evildoers. Also they would have her curb her tongue, seeing how she angered those that had the rule in her house.

And then Electra unfolded her grief to them saying, "I pray you, daughters of Argos, that ye think no evil of me as of one that altogether wanteth wisdom and patience. For what woman of the better sort would not do even as I? For think how I am constrained to live with them that slew my father; and that every day I see this base AEgisthus sitting upon that which was his throne, and wearing the selfsame robes; and how he is husband to this mother of mine, if indeed she be a mother who can stoop to such vileness. And know that every month on the day on which she slew my father she maketh festival and offereth sacrifice to the Gods. And all this am I constrained to see, weeping in secret, for indeed it is not permitted to me publicly to show such sorrow as my heart desireth. Ofttimes indeed this woman mocketh me, and would know why I sorrow more than others, seeing that others also have lost their fathers. But sometimes, if it so chance that she hear from some one that Orestes prepareth to come back to this land, she is furious above measure, and rageth as a wild beast; and her husband, this coward that maketh war against women, stirreth up her fury against me. And still do I look for Orestes when he shall come; but he tarrieth long, and in the meantime I perish with sorrow and trouble."

Then the daughters of Argos, when they had made inquiry and heard that AEgisthus was absent and that they could speak more freely of these matters, would fain know whether she had heard news of her brother Orestes, and bade her be of good heart concerning him. But as they spake together, the sister of Electra, Chrysothemis, came forth with offerings for the tomb of her father in her hand, and other maidens followed her. Now these two were different one from the other, for Electra was full of courage, and would have no peace with those whom she hated, and sought not to hide what was in her heart, but Chrysothemis was fearful, and would live peaceably with them that she loved not, and would speak them fair. And now, when Electra saw her sister come forth, she brake out against her with many angry words, saying that she did ill to choose the part of a mother who had done such wickedness, and to forget her father; and that it was a base thing in her to live softly and at ease, consorting with the evildoers.

And when the Argive maidens would have made peace between them, Chrysothemis answered, "These words are not strange to me; nor should I take note of them, but that I have heard of a great trouble that is ready to fall upon my sister here, and stay her complaints even for ever."

"Nay, what is this?" said Electra. "Speakest thou of trouble greater than that which I now endure?"

"Surely," the other made reply, "for they will send thee far hence, and shut thee up where thou shalt never more see the light of the sun, if thou stayest not these complaints."

But Electra did not fear one whit to hear these things, but waxed fiercer in her anger. And, after a while, as the strife ceased not between them, Chrysothemis would have gone on her way. And when Electra perceived this, she asked her for what purpose and whither she was carrying these offerings to the dead.

And Chrysothemis made reply that she was carrying them at the bidding of her mother to the tomb of King Agamemnon. For that the Queen was in much fear, having seen a vision in the night which had sorely troubled her; and that the vision was this. The King her husband, whom she slew, seemed to bear her company, even as he had done in time past. And he took the sceptre which he had been wont to carry, and which AEgisthus carried after him, and planted it in the earth; and there sprang from it a very flourishing branch, by which the whole land of Mycenae was overshadowed. "So much," she said, "I heard her say, when she told her dream to the light of the day; but more I know not, save that she sendeth me to make these offerings, by reason of her fear."

Then Electra answered, "Nay, my sister; lay not aught of these things upon our father's tomb, for they would be an abomination to him; but scatter them to the winds, or cover them with earth. So let them be kept for her, when she shall die. And surely, but that she is the most shameless of women, she had not sought to pay this honour to him whom she slew so foully. Thinketh she to atone in such sort for the blood that she hath shed? Not so. Put these things away; but thou and I will lay upon this tomb hair from thy head and from mine; small gifts, in truth, yet what we have. And do thou pray to our father that he will help us even where he dwelleth below the earth, and also that Orestes may come speedily, and set his foot upon the necks of them that hate us."

This Chrysothemis promised that she would do, and so departed. And in a short space came forth the Queen Clytaemnestra, and, finding her daughter Electra without the gate of the palace, was very wroth, saying that King AEgisthus had forbidden her to do this thing, and that it was not well that, he being absent, she should take no account of her mother.

"But now," she said, "let us reason together. Thou speakest ill of me, because I slew thy father. 'Tis even so. I deny it not. But mark, Justice slew him, not I only; and thou shouldest be on the side of Justice. He slew thy sister, sacrificing her to the Gods, as no other Greek had done. For what cause did he slay her? 'For the sake of the Greeks,' thou wilt say. But what had the Greeks to do with child of mine? Or was it for the sake of King Menelaues his brother? But had not Menelaues two children, and should not one of these have the rather died, seeing of what father and mother they came, even of those for whose sake the Greeks waged this war? Had Death, thinkest thou, desire for my children rather than for his? Or had this accursed father no care for my children, but only for the children of his brother? Surely this was the deed of a foolish and wicked man. Aye, I say it, whatever thou mayest think, and so would say she who died, could she take voice and speak."

Then said Electra, "If thou permittest, I would say somewhat for him and for her."

And the Queen answered, "Say on. Didst thou always speak in such mood, thou wert not so ill to hear."

Then Electra spake: "Thou sayest, 'I slew thy father,' 'Tis enough. Worse thou couldst not say, whether 'twere justly done or no. But of justice thou hadst never a thought. 'Twas the ill persuasion of him with whom thou now consortest that urged thee to this deed. And as for my sister, thou knowest well that my father slew a stag in the grove of Artemis, and boasted himself of the deed, and that the goddess was wroth with him, and hindered the voyage of the Greeks; and that for this cause my father slew his daughter, knowing that otherwise the ships could sail neither to Troy nor homewards. Yea, he slew her, sorely against his will, for the people's sake, and for nought else. But consider whether this that thou sayest be not altogether a pretence. Art thou not wife to him that was thy fellow in this deed? Callest thou this taking vengeance for thy daughter that was slain? And thy children—art thou a mother to them? What ill do not I suffer at thy hand and the hand of thy partner? And Orestes, whom I barely saved from thy hand, liveth he not in exile? Surely, whatsoever it be that thou chargest against him, thou hast no cause to be ashamed of me."

Then the two spake many bitter words to each other; and at the last, when Electra held her peace, the Queen prayed to the Gods, and made her offerings to the tomb. And first she addressed herself to Phoebus: "O Phoebus, hear that which is in my heart; for to say the thing aloud I dare not, seeing that I am not among friends. But of the dreams that I saw this night past, grant that the good be accomplished and the evil be turned away to my enemies; and that I be not cast down from the wealth wherein I now live; and that I may wield this sceptre of the son of Atreus which now I have, and may have the company of my friends, even as now, and the love of my children, if so be that they love their mother."

And while she thus spake, the old man came in, and would fain know whether that which he saw was the palace of Atreus. And when he heard that it was, he asked whether the lady whom he saw was the Queen. And hearing this also, he spake, "Lady, I have good tidings for thee and King AEgisthus."

"First tell me who thou art."

"I come from Phanoteus of Phocis: I bring great news."

"Tell me; for the man is a friend, and the tidings, I doubt not, good."

"I will say it in one word—Orestes is dead."

And when Electra heard this, she brake forth into a great cry, saying that she was undone. But the Queen said, "What? What sayest thou? Heed not this woman."

And the man said, "I told thee, and tell thee yet again, that Orestes is dead."



And again Electra brake forth into a cry; but the Queen bade her hold her peace, and would have the stranger tell the story. And the man said—

"He came to Delphi, whither the Greeks greatly resort, purposing to contend in the games of the Pythian Apollo. And first there was a race of runners on foot; and for this he came forward, and passing all that ran with him so won the prize. Nor indeed did I ever see such a man; for there was not one contest in which he had not the pre-eminence. Very fair was he to look upon, and his name, he said, was Orestes of Argos, and he was the son of that Agamemnon who in days past was captain of the host of the Greeks at Troy. But when the Gods are minded to destroy a man, who is so strong that he can escape? It fell out then that on the next day at sunset there was proclaimed a race of chariots, to which there came one man from Achaia, and from Sparta one, and two from Barca in Africa. After these came Orestes, being the fifth, with horses of Thessaly. And the sixth was a man of AEtolia, with bay horses, and the seventh a man of Magnesia in Thessaly, and the eighth was a man of Oenea, whose horses were white, and the ninth from Athens, a city which, they say, was builded of Gods, and a Boeotian was the tenth. First the heralds shook lots for each in a helmet, and each man had his place according as his lot came forth. And after this the trumpet sounded, and the horses leapt forward, while the men shouted to them and shook the reins, and spared not the goad. Great was the noise, and the dust rose up like a cloud from the plain. And on the backs of the charioteers and on the wheels of them that went before came the foam from the horses that followed, so close did they lie together. And Orestes, when he came to the pillar where the chariots turned, drave so that his wheel wellnigh touched it, and slackened the rein for the right horse, and pressed on that which was on the left. So far no mishap had befallen the chariots, but all had fared well. But here the steeds of the man of Oenea, being very hard to hold, brake from their course, and drave against the side of one of the chariots from Barca. And now they had ended six courses, and were about to begin the seventh. But with this beginning of trouble went all things wrong, for one drave against another till all the plain of Crissa was covered with broken chariots as the sea with shipwrecks. But the man of Athens was very skilful in driving, and, when he saw the beginning of confusion, he drew his horses aside and held back, and so escaped without damage. Now Orestes was the hindermost of all, trusting to what he should do at the end; and when he saw that only the man of Athens was left, he shouted to his horses and made haste to come up with him. Then the two drave together, having their chariots equal, and first one showed somewhat in the front and then the other. And for eleven courses of the twelve all went well with Orestes; but as he was rounding the pillar for the last time, he loosed the left rein and knew not that he loosed it overmuch, and smote against the pillar and brake his axle in the midst, and so was thrown out of his chariot; but the reins were tangled about him and held him. And all the people cried aloud when they saw the young man dragged over the plain. But at last they that had driven the other chariots hardly stayed the horses, and loosed him. Covered with blood was he and sorely mangled, that none could have known him. And we burnt his body; and certain Phocians, whom the Prince hath sent for this purpose, bring that which remaineth of him, being but a few ashes in an urn of brass, for all he was so tall and strong. This is a sad tale for thee to hear; but for us who saw it never was anything in this world more grievous."