 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
I. THE DEATH OF AGAMEMNON
FROM HOMER
[Odyssey, XI, 385–456]
ODYSSEUS IN HADES
Afterward, soon as the chaste Persephone hither and thither
Now had scattered afar the slender shades of the women,
Came the sorrowing ghost of Agamemnon Atreides;
Round whom thronged, besides, the souls of the others who also
Died, and met their fate, with him in the house of Aigisthos.
He, then, after he drank of the dark blood, instantly knew me,—
Ay, and he wailed aloud, and plenteous tears was shedding,
Toward me reaching hands and eagerly longing to touch me;
But he was shorn of strength, nor longer came at his bidding
That great force which once abode in his pliant members.
Seeing him thus, I wept, and my heart was laden with pity,
And, uplifting my voice, in wingèd words I addressed him:
Now had scattered afar the slender shades of the women,
231
Round whom thronged, besides, the souls of the others who also
Died, and met their fate, with him in the house of Aigisthos.
He, then, after he drank of the dark blood, instantly knew me,—
Ay, and he wailed aloud, and plenteous tears was shedding,
Toward me reaching hands and eagerly longing to touch me;
But he was shorn of strength, nor longer came at his bidding
That great force which once abode in his pliant members.
Seeing him thus, I wept, and my heart was laden with pity,
And, uplifting my voice, in wingèd words I addressed him:
“King of men, Agamemnon, thou glorious son of Atreus,
Say, in what wise did the doom of prostrate death overcome thee?
Was it within thy ships thou wast subdued by Poseidon
Rousing the dreadful blast of winds too hard to be mastered,
Or on the firm-set land did banded foemen destroy thee
Cutting their oxen off, and their flocks so fair, or, it may be,
While in a town's defence, or in that of women, contending?”
Say, in what wise did the doom of prostrate death overcome thee?
Was it within thy ships thou wast subdued by Poseidon
Rousing the dreadful blast of winds too hard to be mastered,
Or on the firm-set land did banded foemen destroy thee
Cutting their oxen off, and their flocks so fair, or, it may be,
While in a town's defence, or in that of women, contending?”
Thus I spake, and he, replying, said to me straightway:
“Nobly-born and wise Odysseus, son of Laertes,
Neither within my ships was I subdued by Poseidon
Rousing the dreadful blast of winds too hard to be mastered,
Nor on the firm-set land did banded foemen destroy me,—
Nay, but death and my doom were well contrived by Aigisthos,
Who, with my cursèd wife, at his own house bidding me welcome,
Fed me, and slew me, as one might slay an ox at the manger!
So, by a death most wretched, I died; and all my companions
Round me were slain off-hand, like white-toothed swine that are slaughtered
Thus, when some lordly man, abounding in power and riches,
Orders a wedding-feast, or a frolic, or mighty carousal.
Thou indeed hast witnessed the slaughter of numberless heroes
Massacred, one by one, in the battle's heat; but with pity
All thy heart had been full, if thou hadst seen what I tell thee,—
How in the hall we lay among the wine-jars, and under
Tables laden with food; and how the pavement, on all sides,
Swam with blood! And I heard the dolorous cry of Kassandra,
Priam's daughter, whom treacherous Klytaimnestra anear me
Slew; and upon the ground I fell in my death-throes, vainly
Reaching out hands to my sword, while the shameless woman departed,
Nor did she even stay to press her hands on my eyelids,
No, nor to close my mouth, although I was passing to Hades.
O, there is naught more dire, more insolent than a woman
After the very thought of deeds like these has possessed her,—
One who would dare to devise an act so utterly shameless,
Lying in wait to slay her wedded lord. I bethought me,
Verily, home to my children and servants giving me welcome
Safe to return; but she has wrought for herself confusion,
Plotting these grievous woes, and for other women hereafter,
Even for those, in sooth, whose thoughts are set upon goodness.”
“Nobly-born and wise Odysseus, son of Laertes,
Neither within my ships was I subdued by Poseidon
Rousing the dreadful blast of winds too hard to be mastered,
Nor on the firm-set land did banded foemen destroy me,—
Nay, but death and my doom were well contrived by Aigisthos,
Who, with my cursèd wife, at his own house bidding me welcome,
Fed me, and slew me, as one might slay an ox at the manger!
So, by a death most wretched, I died; and all my companions
232
Thus, when some lordly man, abounding in power and riches,
Orders a wedding-feast, or a frolic, or mighty carousal.
Thou indeed hast witnessed the slaughter of numberless heroes
Massacred, one by one, in the battle's heat; but with pity
All thy heart had been full, if thou hadst seen what I tell thee,—
How in the hall we lay among the wine-jars, and under
Tables laden with food; and how the pavement, on all sides,
Swam with blood! And I heard the dolorous cry of Kassandra,
Priam's daughter, whom treacherous Klytaimnestra anear me
Slew; and upon the ground I fell in my death-throes, vainly
Reaching out hands to my sword, while the shameless woman departed,
Nor did she even stay to press her hands on my eyelids,
No, nor to close my mouth, although I was passing to Hades.
O, there is naught more dire, more insolent than a woman
After the very thought of deeds like these has possessed her,—
One who would dare to devise an act so utterly shameless,
Lying in wait to slay her wedded lord. I bethought me,
Verily, home to my children and servants giving me welcome
Safe to return; but she has wrought for herself confusion,
Plotting these grievous woes, and for other women hereafter,
Even for those, in sooth, whose thoughts are set upon goodness.”
Thus he spake, and I, in turn replying, adressed him:
“Heavens! how from the first has Zeus the thunderer hated,
All for the women's wiles, the brood of Atreus! What numbers
Perished in quest of Helen,—and Klytaimnestra, the meanwhile,
Wrought in her soul this guile for thee afar on thy journey.”
“Heavens! how from the first has Zeus the thunderer hated,
233
Perished in quest of Helen,—and Klytaimnestra, the meanwhile,
Wrought in her soul this guile for thee afar on thy journey.”
Thus I spake, and he, replying, said to me straightway:
“See that thou art not, then, like me too mild to thy help-meet;
Nor to her ear reveal each secret matter thou knowest,
Tell her the part, forsooth, and see that the rest shall be hidden.
Nathless, not unto thee will come such murder, Odysseus,
Dealt by a wife; for wise indeed, and true in her purpose,
Noble Penelope is, the child of Ikarios. Truly,
She it was whom we left, a fair young bride, when we started
Off for the wars; and then an infant lay at her bosom,
One who now, methinks, in the list of men must be seated,—
Blest indeed! ah, yes, for his well-loved father, returning,
Him shall behold, and the son shall clasp the sire, as is fitting.
Not unto me to feast my eyes with the sight of my offspring
Granted the wife of my bosom, but first of the life she bereft me.
Therefore I say, moreover, and charge thee well to remember,
Unto thine own dear land steer thou thy vessel in secret,
Not in the light; since faith can be placed in woman no longer.”
“See that thou art not, then, like me too mild to thy help-meet;
Nor to her ear reveal each secret matter thou knowest,
Tell her the part, forsooth, and see that the rest shall be hidden.
Nathless, not unto thee will come such murder, Odysseus,
Dealt by a wife; for wise indeed, and true in her purpose,
Noble Penelope is, the child of Ikarios. Truly,
She it was whom we left, a fair young bride, when we started
Off for the wars; and then an infant lay at her bosom,
One who now, methinks, in the list of men must be seated,—
Blest indeed! ah, yes, for his well-loved father, returning,
Him shall behold, and the son shall clasp the sire, as is fitting.
Not unto me to feast my eyes with the sight of my offspring
Granted the wife of my bosom, but first of the life she bereft me.
Therefore I say, moreover, and charge thee well to remember,
Unto thine own dear land steer thou thy vessel in secret,
Not in the light; since faith can be placed in woman no longer.”
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |