interest from beginning to end, he will perhaps excuse my acknowledged transgressions, unless as well or better satisfied by some more faithful Interpreter, or by one more entitled than myself to make free with the Original.

But to re-create the Tragedy, body and soul, into English, and make the Poet free of the language which reigns over that half of the world never dreamt of in his philosophy, must be reserved - especially the Lyric part-for some Poet, worthy of that name and of congenial Genius with the Greek. Would that every one such would devote himself to one such work! whether by Translation, Paraphrase, or Metaphrase, to use Dryden's definition, whose Alexander's Feast, and some fragments of whose Plays, indicate that he, perhaps, might have rendered such a service to Eschylus and to us. Or, to go further back in our own Drama, one thinks what Marlowe might have done; himself a translator from the Greek; something akin to Eschylus in his genius; still more in his grandiose, and sometimes authadostomous verse; of which some lines relating to this very play fall so little short of Greek, that I shall but shame my own by quoting them beforehand;

"Is this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!"

DRAMATIS PERSONEÆ.

AGAMEMNON, King of Argos.

CLYTEMNESTRA, his Queen.

EGISTHUS, his Cousin.

CASSANDRA, Daughter of King PRIAM.

HERALD,

CHORUS of Ancient Councillors.

The scene is at ARGOS.

AGAMEMNON.

[AGAMEMNON'S Palace: a Warder on the
Battlements.]

WARDER.

[Once more, once more, and. once again once more]
I crave the Gods' compassion, and release
From this inexorable watch, that now

For one whole year, close as a couching dog,
On Agamemnon's housetop I have kept,
Contemplating the muster of the stars,

And those transplendent Dynasties of Heav'n1
That, as alternately they rise and fall,
Draw Warmth and Winter over mortal man.
Thus, and thus long, I say, at the behest
Of the man-minded Woman who here rules,
Here have I watch'd till yonder mountain-top

1 The commentators generally understand these λαμπροὺς δυνάστας to mean Sun and Moon. Blomfield, I believe, admits they may be the Constellations by which the seasons were anciently marked, as in the case of the Pleiades further on in the Play. The Moon, I suppose, had no part to play in such a computation; and, as for the Sun, the beacon-fire surely implies a night-watch.

A

K

Shall kindle with a signal-light from Troy.

And watch'd in vain, coucht on the barren stone,
Night after night, night after night, alone,
Ev'n by a wandering dream unvisited,

To which the terror of my post denies
The customary passage of closed eyes,

From which, when haply nodding, I would scare
Forbidden sleep, or charm long night away
With some old ballad of the good old times,
The foolish song falls presently to tears,
Remembering the glories of this House,
Where all is not as all was wont to be,-

No, nor as should― Alas, these royal walls,

Had they but tongue (as ears and eyes, men say)

Would tell strange stories!-But, for fear they should,
Mine shall be mute as they are.

Only this

And this no treason surely-might I but,
But once more might I, see my lord again

Safe home! But once more look upon his face!
But once more take his hand in mine!-

Hilloa!

The words scarce from my lips. Have the Gods
heard?

Or am I dreaming wide awake? as wide.

Awake I am―The Light! The Light! The Light
Long lookt for, long despair'd of, on the Height!

Oh more to me than all the stars of night!

1

More than the Morning-star! - more than the Sun

Who breaks my nightly watch, this rising one
Which tells me that my year-long night is done!
When, shaking off the collar of my watch,

I first to Clytemnestra shall report
Such news as, if indeed a lucky cast
For her and Argos, sure a Main to me!
But grant the Gods, to all! A master-cast,
More than compensating all losses past;
And lighting up our altars with a fire

Of Victory that never shall expire!

[Exit Warder. Daylight gradually dawns, and enter slowly Chorus.

CHORUS.

I.

Another rising of the sun

That rolls another year away

Sees us through the portal dun
Dividing night and day
Like to phantoms from the crypt

Of Morpheus or of Hades slipt,

Through the sleeping city creeping,
Murmuring an ancient song

Of unvindicated wrong,

Ten year told as ten year long.
Since to revenge the great abuse