O queen, I come in reverence of thy sway—
For, while the ruler’s kingly seat is void,
The loyal heart before his consort bends.
Now—be it sure and certain news of good,
Or the fair tidings of a flatt’ring hope,
That bids thee spread the light from shrine to shrine,
I, fain to hear, yet grudge not if thou hide.
CLYTEMNESTRA
As saith the adage, From the womb of Night
Spring forth, with promise fair, the young child Light.
Ay—fairer even than all hope my news—
By Grecian hands is Priam’s city ta’en!
CHORUS
What say’st thou? doubtful heart makes treach’rous ear.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Hear then again, and plainly—Troy is ours!
CHORUS
Thrills thro’ my heart such joy as wakens tears.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Ay, thro’ those tears thine eye looks loyalty.
CHORUS
But hast thou proof, to make assurance sure?
CLYTEMNESTRA
Go to; I have—unless the god has lied.
CHORUS
Hath some night-vision won thee to belief?
CLYTEMNESTRA
Out on all presage of a slumb’rous soul!