The first and last are victors in the race.
Such is the proof, the warrant that I give
Of tidings sent me by my Lord from Troy.
Chorus.
The gods, queen, will I invoke hereafter.
But now I fain would marvel at thy words,
Heard more at large so thou wouldst speak again. 310
Clytemnestra.
Troy on this very day th' Achaians hold.
I ween ill-blending clamour fills the town:
Pour in one vessel vinegar and oil,
They will not lovingly consort, I trow;
So now from captives and from captors rise
Two voices, telling of their two-fold fate.
For those, flung prostrate on the lifeless forms
Of husbands and of brothers, children too,
Prone on their aged sires, lamenting wail;
While these, night-stragglers after toilsome fight,
Keen for all viands that the city yields,
Upon no order standing, but as each
Hath snatched the lot of fortune, take their fill.
At length from frost and skiey dews set free,
They dwell in Ilion's spear-won halls, and sleep
†The live-long night, unsentinelled like gods.
If now the tutelary powers they fear,
Who hold the conquered land, and spare their shrines, 330
Captors, they shall not captured be in turn.
But may no greedy passion seize the host
