But-coming as he comes who bringeth news Of safe return from toil, and issues fair, To men rejoicing in a weal restored-Dare I to dash good words with ill, and say For fire and sea, that erst held bitter feud, Now swore conspiracy and pledged their faith, Wasting the Argives worn with toil and war.
Night and great horror of the rising wave Came o'er us, and the blasts that blow from Thrace Clashed ship with ship, and some with plunging prow Thro' scudding drifts of spray and raving storm Vanished, as strays by some ill shepherd driven.
And when at length the sun rose bright, we saw Th' Aegaean sea-field flecked with flowers of death, Corpses of Grecian men and shattered hulls.
For us indeed, some god, as well I deem, No human power, laid hand upon our helm, Snatched us or prayed us from the powers of air, And brought our bark thro'all, unharmed in hull:
And saving Fortune sat and steered us fair, So that no surge should gulf us deep in brine, Nor grind our keel upon a rocky shore.
So 'scaped we death that lurks beneath the sea, But, under day's white light, mistrustful all Of fortune's smile, we sat and brooded deep, Shepherds forlorn of thoughts that wandered wild O'er this new woe; for smitten was our host, And lost as ashes scattered from the pyre.
Of whom if any draw his life-breath yet, Be well assured, he deems of us as dead, As we of him no other fate forebode.
But heaven save all! If Menelaus live, He will not tarry, but will surely come:
Therefore if anywhere the high sun's ray Descries him upon earth, preserved by Zeus, Who wills not yet to wipe his race away, Hope still there is that homeward he may wend.
Enough-thou hast the truth unto the end.
(The HERALD departs.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1