Translator's Note
Sarah Brown Ferrario, librettist
(Back to Home Page)
Translating Aeschylus is both a great pleasure and a great challenge. More than the other two great tragedians, Sophocles and Euripides, Aeschylus is renowned for the rich density of his language. Even in antiquity, his unusual way with words was recognized: the comedy Frogs, composed by Aristophanes about a half-century after Aeschylus' death, has the shade of Aeschylus and the shade of Euripides competing in a poetry contest in the underworld. The battle of words climaxes in a scene in which both tragedians recite passages of their plays into a giant scale to test the balance of their poetry, and Aeschylus' offerings are found to be far "weightier" than those of Euripides.
But magnificence of vocabulary and expression does not necessarily lend itself well to modern opera. Although the words provide the plot and sketch the characters, they must above all be singable. They must also be as transparent as the demands of the source poetry permit, so that the members of the audience will be able to enjoy as much of the libretto as possible while they are being swept along by the music. "Transparent" is not the first adjective that comes to mind when one reads Aeschylus, and so I have tried to strike a middle ground with my translation. The images and symbols which recur throughout the ancient text of Agamemnon (and indeed, the entire Oresteia) are not only part and parcel of Aeschylus' artistic thought, but also crucial unifying devices for the drama as a whole. In making cuts in the text, then, I have tried to maintain the progressive recurrences of individual concepts which the composer and I deemed most essential for the plot and most effective for the stage. For example, references to blood and sacrifice have almost inevitably been kept in, even where they may appear to generate "extra" words: they tie together the progressive deaths in the House of Atreus (the children of Thyestes, Iphigeneia, Agamemnon) and call attention to one of the major themes of the Oresteia as a whole, the definition of justice as opposed to blood-vendetta.
For all of the lines that had to be eliminated from Agamemnon to make it into an opera, however, I have still done my best to maintain Aeschylus' own dramatic structure. No scenes or even speeches have changed places, no characters been cut, no choruses removed. The composer and I thought this essential to maintain the accumulation of tension and fear that helps to make this play such a masterpiece. I have also tried, whenever possible, to maintain Aeschylus' own grammatical structure, not adding words that are not recommended by the Greek, nor subtracting words, if at all possible, if I am planning to use a line intact. The occasionally "gratuitous" adjectives and repetitions that remain are evidence of the poet's tapestried style, and I hope to be able to share something of this with those who view this opera.
As a "student" of Aeschylus, I am also a student of those who have worked on him before me, and I must express a great debt above all to the masterful translation of the Oresteia produced by Sir Hugh Lloyd-Jones. Although I have also been influenced by other translations (e.g. those of Robert Fagles and H. Weir Smyth), it is that of Lloyd-Jones which guided me through the Oresteia when I first discovered Aeschylus, and which I have continued to use as both aid and inspiration. There are a few moments in this libretto when I could not help reaching the same conclusion about an Aeschylean utterance as Lloyd-Jones did, and I hope that this will be taken as it is sincerely intended: as a compliment.
The numbers in parentheses following the attribution of a singer in the libretto below refer to the lines in the Greek Oxford Classical Text, ed. Page. A few variants on this text have been employed in the translation; these are described and discussed in the "For Classicists" section of this website. A final note: throughout this libretto, the 'Coryphaeus/Coryphaea' is referenced by the neutral English equivalent, 'Chorus Leader.'
|
Scene 1: The Watchman's Speech Scene 2: Chorus I ("Ten Years Ago . . .") |
The Agôn: Agamemnon and Klytemnestra Chorus IV ("Why Does This Hovering Fear") |
(Back to Home Page)
Watchman (1-15, 20-39)
Gods, deliver me!
The whole year round, upon the night-watch,
crouched like a dog on the roof of the palace,
I watch for the sons of Atreus!
I have learned the starry assembly,
the seasons sweeping past,
the princely stars, bright constellations,
and their rising and setting in turn.
I wait for the beacon-light,
the glow of a signal fire that tells of Troy’s destruction.
We work the will of a woman of manly heart,
a heart yet full of hope.
But whenever I try to sleep,
no dreams come near to me upon my dewy bed.
Not sleep, but fear stands vigil by me.
I dare not close my eyes.
O now may our deliverance fair come to end these toils,
the shining light with its tidings fair!
(A light appears in the distance. The Watchman sees it.)
Hail! Hail! O hail!
Hail to the beacon, the day-light in darkness, hail!
Let Argos explode in joyful dancing!
Hail! O hail!
Now I signal the wife of Agamemnon,
that she rise from her bed and cry with joy,
For the beacon announces the fall of Troy!
And I’ll dance a prelude myself,
doing well as my master has done,
since my watching has won me the jackpot!
I pray that my lord will come home.
I’ll clasp his hand in mine . . .
No more. Silence surrounds the rest.
‘An ox stands on my tongue.’
But if this house had voice,
its story would be most clear.
To those who understand I speak by choice.
To those who don’t, I speak not at all.
Chorus (40-2, 45-8, 61-7, 188-91, 199, 201-217, 220-1, 224-5, 231-2, 234-7, 240-5, 248-52, 121)
Ten years ago did Priam’s nemesis,
lord Menelaus and Agamemnon
lead out from this land
the Argive force of a thousand ships,
crying ‘War!’ from their proud hearts.
Zeus, guardian of host and guest,
sent against Paris
for the sake of a woman of many men,
giving Greeks and Trojans alike
many struggles, shattering spear-points,
knees bent down low in the dust.
Ten years ago,
the fleet of the Greeks was stopped and starving,
held in the straits of Aulis where the sea washes to and fro.
Then Kalchas, the army’s prophet,
prophesied an answer to the storm:
‘Appease the goddess Artemis!’
So did Kalchas, the army’s prophet,
prophesy an answer to the storm.
The two kings’ scepters struck the ground for grief.
And then lord Agamemnon spoke:
Soloist 2
‘Grievous is my fate if I should disobey,
but grievous too if I should sacrifice my child,
the darling of my home,
polluting with a maiden daughter’s blood
her father’s hands upon the altar.
Which course leads to salvation?
How can I betray my allies?
They want a virgin’s blood to stop the winds,
and they are right.
May all be well!’
Chorus
From that time on his heart was hard.
He dared become his daughter’s killer.
After a prayer, he ordered attendants
to lift her above the altar like a goat,
and to gag her lovely mouth
so that her cries should not accurse his house.
She cast a darting look at each of her destroyers,
longing to call their names,
since she had so many times so purely sung for them
in her father’s feasting-halls.
What happened next I did not see, nor can I tell.
But the prophesies of Kalchas did not go unfulfilled.
Justice teaches some through suffering.
But the future you will know when it comes.
Rejoice while there is time!
Sing sorrow, sorrow, but may all be well in the end!
Chorus Leader (258, 260, 262-3)
Klytemnestra, Queen,
Honored ruler while our king is gone,
You sacrifice about the city now:
Has Troy been taken by the Greeks?
Klytemnestra (266, 269)
Joy more great than hope I bring you:
Troy this day is in the hands
Of Agamemnon and the Greeks.
Soloists 2-5 (272)
Can this be true?
Was there a sign?
Klytemnestra (279, 282-3, 288, 313, 316)
In the night that gave birth to this day,
The soldiers lit a passageway of flame.
A golden torch, a second sun,
Sent on by watchers, one by one,
Became the sign my husband sent from Troy to me.
Aria
Klytemnestra (320, 324-9, 334-5, 337, 343-4, 346-7, 349-50, 267)
Troy is fallen, Troy is taken,
Cries of victor, cries of vanquished
Sound throughout the burning town.
Trojans hold the lifeless bodies
Of their fathers, husbands, sons,
Curse their fate from shackled throats.
Starving soldiers after battle
Break into the city stores,
Eat what chance or fate may bring.
Tonight Greeks sleep in Trojan beds,
No watchful guards are needed now
For houses taken by the spear.
But the Greeks still need a clear way home.
They must respect the Trojan shrines.
May grasping greed not harm the Greeks,
The captured not become the conquerors,
And may our men come safely home with speed.
Yet, something may await them here,
Some watchful vengeance from the dead,
Some sudden, unexpected . . .
But may it not be so, my lords,
Since I prefer to praise the good.
The Greeks have taken Priam’s city!
Soloist 5 (351, 353-4)
My lady, you speak sense, like a wise man.
I shall prepare to praise the gods,
for toil has wrought a glorious deed.
Chorus (355-8, 362-4, 381-4, 399-402, 408-11, 427-8, 434-43, 445-9, 456-7, 461-2, 475-8)
O lord Zeus and kindly Night,
lady of the cosmos,
you trapped the towers of Troy
in your perfect snare.
We praise you, O lord Zeus,
guardian of host and guest;
you bent your bow towards Paris,
cast your bolt of stars.
There is no protection for
a man proud of his wealth
who kicks away the altar
of mighty Justice.
Such a one was Paris.
He went to the home of the sons of Atreus,
Shaming their welcome
with the theft of a wife.
The Trojan prophets cried:
‘Woe for the house
and woe for the princes, O ill-fated marriage!’
Woe here at home.
The sorrows on our hearths are these and more than these.
Instead of soldiers
ashes come home to us.
Ares, gold-changer of corpses.
He holds the scales in the contest of the spear.
From the fires of Troy
he sends back dust heavy with grief
for loved ones of the fallen men.
They weep and speak well of the dead, saying,
‘he fought with skill,’
‘he fell bravely in the slaughter,
dying for another man’s wife.’
The people’s talk has power when they anger.
The people’s curse will not go unavenged.
And then, the gods do not overlook the acts
of those who kill without restraint.
The tale of the joyful beacon fire
races through the town.
Who knows if it is true or not?
What if the gods are lying?
Soloists 1, 5 (489, 491, 493-4, 499-500)
We soon shall know about those beacon fires,
whether they were true or not.
I see a Herald coming from the coast,
his head shaded with olive branches.
I pray he brings no bad news.
May all be well!
Klytemnestra (501-2)
Whoever prays otherwise for our city,
let him have what he deserves.
Herald (503-8, 518-31)
Hail, land of Argos, land of my fathers!
After ten years I have come home to you,
my last remaining hope.
Never did I dream that I would die at home
and have a tomb in Argos.
Hail, land of Argos and light of my homeland’s sun!
Hail, palace of my lords! Hail, guardian gods!
Long ago, with joyful eyes, you sent us out to war.
Now, after long absence, welcome back your king.
For he is coming, lordly Agamemnon.
Welcome him with joy, for he is worthy of your praise:
with the strength of Zeus he has cast down Troy!
The Trojan shrines and altars all are gone,
the seed of all their land has been destroyed.
That blessed man, the son of Atreus,
has ensnared the city of Troy.
He is coming, lordly Agamemnon!
Soloists 2, 4, 5 (538)
We greet you, Herald of the Achaean army.
Herald (539)
My thanks to you. Now, here at home, I no longer care when the gods demand my death.
Soloist 5 (540)
Did your longing for your homeland move you so?
Herald (541)
So much that now I weep for joy.
Soloist 2 (544)
You longed for those who longed for you.
Herald (545)
So Argos missed its army as much as we missed Argos?
Soloist 2 (546)
We too often wept, with darkened hearts.
Herald (547)
Why this sorrow, when it was we who did the fighting?
Soloists 2, 4, 5 (548)
For a long time our silence has proven our protection.
Herald (549)
Why? With the leaders away, were there people whom you feared?
Soloists 2, 4, 5 (550)
So much that now ‘I no longer care when the gods demand my death.’
Herald (551, 572-5, 577)
But now all is well.
I tell you, now is the time to rejoice.
For those of us surviving in the Argive army,
our prize is victory; no pain can take that away.
We can boast in the light of this day,
‘We, the army of the Argives, we took Troy.’
Chorus Leader (583, 585-6)
Herald, we believe your account.
But all of this that you have spoken
is of most concern to the palace and to Klytemnestra.
Klytemnestra (587-9, 598-608)
I raised my cry of joy long since,
when the first beacon-fire came
telling of the fall and sack of Troy.
What more should I say?
I will hear the story from my husband.
And now, so I may receive my honored lord in fitting style,
I shall prepare for his arrival.
What day dawns sweeter for a woman
than when her husband comes home from the army,
saved by the gods?
(Addressing the Herald)
Go, announce this to my husband:
Let him come as quickly as he may,
the king whose city longs for him.
He shall find a worthy wife here,
faithful as he left her,
a watchdog for his home,
hating those he hates.
Soloist 5 (615-16)
So she says.
If you read her in the usual way,
her speech sounds fair.
Herald (636-7, 567, 532, 535-6)
It is not right to darken this day with evil speech.
Now is the time to pay honor to the gods!
The toil is past.
Paris brought down his land and his father Priam’s house.
Chorus (681-2, 688-91, 699-702, 707-8, 744-5, 747, 749, 750-62, 772-81)
Helen.
Who could have named her so truly?
Helen.
Hell for ships, hell for men, hell for cities.
From her delicate bridal chamber
she sailed, but the fate which moves all
brought a dowry of destruction to Troy.
Since Paris dishonored the tables of his host
the vengeance comes upon his house.
In the palace of Troy the kin of the bridegroom
sang the bridal hymn,
But the fate that brings tears to brides
ordained a bitter end for this marriage,
destruction for Priam and his sons.
They say that riches do not die childless;
from good things much sorrow can be born.
But they are wrong: for evil deeds
produce more evil like themselves.
Only good houses bear good children.
Justice shines in homes dark with smoke;
she honors what is right.
But she leaves the golden halls
where men’s hands are tainted;
she scorns the power of wealth.
And Justice guides all things to their end.
Chorus (783-5, 799-800, 802, 805-6, 793-4, 807-9)
Hail, Agamemnon!
Offspring of Atreus! Sacker of Troy!
How shall we justly honor you?
Soloist 5
I cannot deny it: when you led your army to Troy
for the sake of Helen, you seemed to leave your wits behind.
But now from the bottom of my heart, I declare it:
You have done well.
Chorus
Hail, Agamemnon!
Soloist 3
Many here may appear to share your joy,
forcing frowning faces into smiles.
But you will know in time
which of your people stayed loyal, and which have not.
Chorus
Hail, Agamemnon!
Agamemnon (810-16)
First it is right to address Argos and the gods of this land,
those partners in my homecoming and
in the vengeance that I took on Priam’s city.
No pleas could move the gods.
No hesitation:
they cast their votes in an urn of blood
that Troy should be laid low.
Aria1
Agamemnon (818-20, 823-5, 827-8, 830-3, 838-9, 844-8, 850, 850-2, 854)
Smoke marks out the conquered city even now.
The dying embers breathe forth rich gasps of wealth.
For a woman’s sake the Argive monster,
shield-bearing army, offspring of a horse,
leapt over the walls of Troy
and licked the tyrant’s blood.
Smoke marks out the conquered city even now.
The dying embers breathe forth rich gasps of wealth.
(end aria)
And as for what you said, I do agree.
Few men can honor victors without envy.
I would say that I can tell
when comradeship is false.
In common council we will meet
on matters of the city:
that which is well, we must preserve.
And wherever remedy is needed,
we shall attempt to give it.
But now I go in to my palace, hearth, and home;
Since Victory has followed me, may she abide forever!
Chorus
Hail, Agamemnon!
Klytemnestra (855-60)
My lords of Argos, I am not ashamed
to tell you of the love I bear my husband:
Long waiting has worn away my shame.
I will tell you of my own hard life
while Agamemnon was away at Troy.
Aria
Klytemnestra (861-8, 874-84, 887-8, 891-4, 896-901, 905-11)
A woman abandoned, her husband gone,
sits alone in her house--a fearful plight.
Evil rumors come to her,
bearing horror-tales of suffering,
each worse than the one before.
If this man had in truth all the wounds
the rumors told to me,
he would have more holes than a net.
Because of these evil rumors,
the palace slaves many times had to force my neck
out of the noose I tied around it in despair!
And this is why our son Orestes is not here.
Be not afraid--he stays with our friend Strophios.
We feared the people might rise up while you were gone.
For me, the overflowing fountain of my weeping
has run dry; not a single tear remains.
In my sleep, the buzzing of a single gnat
would waken me like a trumpet.
I dreamed more sufferings for you
than the hours of the night had time.
But now I call you, husband,
watchdog of our house, pillar of our home,
thirsty traveler’s flowing stream,
land the sailor sees beyond all hope,
sun breaking through after a storm.
Now come, my dear, step down from this chariot.
But do not place your foot upon the ground, O king--
that foot that conquered Troy!
Handmaids, clothe his path with tapestries;
let his way be strewn with purple,
as Justice leads him to the home he never hoped to see!
Agamemnon (914-16, 918-25)
Klytemnestra, guardian of my house,
your welcome was like my absence: long.
But do not spoil me gently, like a woman,
or fall down before me like some barbarian king.
Do not make my pathway one of jealousy.
Tapestries are only for the gods; I am but mortal.
I cannot walk upon these treasures without fear.
Honor me only as a man.
Klytemnestra (931)
Speak to me; tell me your judgment.
Agamemnon (932)
My judgment I shall not hold back.
Klytemnestra (933)
Would you do this in reverence for the gods?
Agamemnon (934)
If a soothsayer ordained it, I would.
Klytemnestra (935)
What would Priam do, if he were victor now?
Agamemnon (936)
I think that he would walk these tapestries.
Klytemnestra (937)
So do not fear, then, the blame of your people for this act.
Agamemnon (938)
But the people’s talk has power here.
Klytemnestra (939)
The lucky man inspires talk; others wish for what he has.
Agamemnon (940)
A woman should not argue!
Klytemnestra (941)
A conqueror should relent a little; that is just and right.
Agamemnon (942)
You want this so badly?
Klytemnestra (943)
Give in to me; you are still the victor and the stronger, even now.
Agamemnon (944-51, 954-5, 951-2, 956-7)
Since this is what you want, let someone take my boots.
And as I walk upon these purple streams,
may no anger of the gods, no evil eye sent from above,
swoop down to strike.
I am ashamed to trample with my feet
the riches of this house, cloth bought with silver.
(gesturing towards Kassandra)
You see this girl, this stranger here?
She is my present from the army, plucked from Troy.
Lead her in and treat her well; the gods are kind
to masters who are kind to slaves.
Since this is what you want, and I agreed,
I enter my palace by this purple road.
Aria
Klytemnestra (958, 961-74)
The sea is there, and who shall drain it dry?
Our house flows with wealth, my lord,
All the gods have graced our coffers;
all our want is washed away.
Even so, I would have vowed more than all these tapestries’ destruction
if the gods demanded it as ransom for your soul.
When the root remains alive, leaves return,
casting their summer shade against the dog-star.
And now you come.
You bear heat in the winter
and coolness in the season
when Zeus turns bitter grapes to wine.
The master is home.
(Agamemnon has gone into the palace, out of earshot.)
Zeus, Zeus, you who work all, work now my prayer!
And what you will, be now your care.
O Zeus, work now my prayer!
Chorus (975-82, 1019-21)
Why does this hovering fear
flutter ever before my darkened heart?
Why does my song offer prophesy I did not seek?
Where is my courage to scorn these fears like worthless dreams?
Once the black blood of a man has been spilled to the earth,
who can call it back by singing spells?
Klytemnestra (1035-9)
Kassandra, Kassandra, come inside.
Zeus has brought you to our house in peace,
to stand by the altar and its rich offerings
with all our other slaves.
Come down from this chariot; put away your pride.
Chorus Leader (1047-9)
She has told it to you clearly.
Fate has trapped you; obey her.
Klytemnestra (1035)
Kassandra, Kassandra, come inside.
Chorus Leader (1053-4)
Follow her. What she says is best for now.
Obey her; leave your chariot.
Klytemnestra (1055-7, 1059)
I do not have the time to waste outside here.
The sheep stand ready for the sacrifice.
If you will come, make no delay!
Chorus Leader (1062-3)
This stranger seems to need an interpreter.
Klytemnestra (1064, 1068)
Or perhaps she’s mad, half-witted.
I have tried; I shall be insulted no more. (exit)
Soloist 5 (1069-71)
I pity her; I am not angry.
Come down, poor girl, from this chariot.
Yield now to necessity’s yoke.
Scena
Kassandra (1072-3)
Ototototoi popoi da!
Apollo! Apollon!
Chorus Leader (1074-5)
Why cry your sorrows to Apollo?
He is not a god of lamentation.
Kassandra (1076-7)
Ototototoi popoi da!
Apollo! Apollon!
Chorus Leader (1078)
Why call on him?
Kassandra (1085-7)
Apollo, my destroyer!
Where have you led me?
What house is this?
Chorus Leader (1088)
This is the palace of the sons of Atreus.
Kassandra (1090, 1092, 1096-7)
It hates the gods! It kills!
The ground is soaked with blood.
There are children here,
weeping for their slaughter,
and for their roasted flesh.
Their father feasted on them!
Chorus Leader (1098-9)
We know of your prophetic powers,
but we want no prophets here.
Kassandra (1100, 1102, 1107-9, 1114-5, 1126-8, 1136, 1138- 9)
Ah! What treachery is this?
A great disaster is being plotted within the palace.
(seeing a vision of the murder of Agamemnon)
Wicked woman, what are you doing?
You have bathed your husband . . . what now?
A net . . . a net from Hades!
She has trapped him in his robes . . . she strikes!
He falls back, under the water . . .
Why did you bring me here to die with you?
Oh, woe for my wretched fate!
Chorus Leader (1140, 1154-5)
You are mad, possessed by the god.
Where do these evil fortunes come from?
Aria
Kassandra (1156-61, 1167-72, 1183, 1246)
Woe for the marriage of Paris,
destroying all those that he loved.
Woe, woe, for Scamander, the river of home!
I lived by your shores, grew up by your banks.
Now I will sing my songs on the shores of the dead.
Woe, woe, for my city cast down!
Priam, my father, made sacrifice:
cattle were slaughtered before the walls in vain.
My city was fated to fall, and I too must fall.
(end aria)
I will no longer speak in riddles:
I say that you will look on Agamemnon’s death.
Soloists 2-5 (1247, 1249)
Peace, wretched woman; do not say such a thing!
May it not be so.
Kassandra (1250, 1277-8, 1313-14)
You pray while they prepare to kill!
(seeing a vision of her own death)
Ah! The butcher’s block awaits me, too:
Red with the blood of my slaughter.
(resignedly)
I go into the house now, weeping for my fate and Agamemnon’s.
Agamemnon (1343)
(offstage)
Ah! I am struck!
Soloists 2-5 (1344)
Silence! Who says he has been struck?
Agamemnon (1345)
(offstage)
Ah! I am struck again!
Soloist 4 (1346-7)
The king cries out in pain; I think the deed is done.
But let us now consider what is the safest course.
Soloist 3 (1349)
Summon the citizens!
Soloist 2 (1350-1)
Break in and prove the deed with the bloody sword!
Soloist 4 (1353)
Let us do something now; no delay.
Soloist 5 (1354-5)
They are plotting tyranny.
Soloist 3 (1356-7)
We are wasting time; they are not.
Soloist 2 (1358)
I am at a loss. I do not know what to do.
Soloist 5 (1360-1)
We cannot resurrect the dead with talk.
Soloist 3 (1362-3)
Are we to be subject to these killers?
Soloist 4 (1364-5)
Impossible; death is a softer fate than tyranny.
Soloist 2 (1367)
Can we be sure the king is dead?
Soloists 2-5 (1371)
We must know the fate of Agamemnon!
(Klytemnestra emerges from the palace, bloodied, wielding an axe. Beneath her feet are displayed the corpses of Agamemnon and Kassandra.)
Klytemnestra (1372-3, 1379, 1381-6, 1388-94)
Lies! Lies! I told lies before;
now I do not fear to tell the truth!
I stand where I struck; the deed is done.
He could not escape his fate.
I cast this robe about him, a net for fish.
I struck him twice, and twice he moaned.
His legs gave way, and as he fell I struck again.
And as he fell, spewing a shower of blood,
he struck me with its dark rain;
I rejoiced like a flower blooming in spring.
My honored lords of Argos, here I am!
And I rejoice whether you will or not.
Chorus (1399-1400, 1410-11)
How can you say this over your husband’s body?
You will be an exile, hated by all the citizens.
Klytemnestra (1412, 1414-15, 1417-19)
You sentence me to exile?
You did nothing to this man,
who sacrificed his own child like a beast,
my beloved daughter,
to calm the winds and sail to Troy.
Should he not have been an exile?
Chorus (1426-7)
You are past all bounds;
you are mad!
Klytemnestra (1431-6, 1444, 1440, 1446-7)
Hear my oath:
I swear by the justice I won for my child,
by destruction,
to whom I sacrificed this man
I have no fear while Aegisthus, ever loyal to me,
kindles the flame within my hearth!
Agamemnon lies here.
And she, his war-prize,
lies here as well.
This little morsel he brought home was my delight!
Chorus (1489-92, 1495, 1453-4)
O my king, my king,
how shall I lament for you?
What words from a loving heart?
You lie here in a spider’s web,
slain by treachery!
You dared all in war for the sake of a woman,
but a woman took away your life.
(Aegisthus enters, accompanied by a bodyguard)
Aegisthus (1577-88, 1591-1600, 1603-10)
O light of day that brings me sweet revenge!
The gods gaze down from heaven on us men,
And watch our toils and suff’rings on the earth,
And now they must approve me in my mirth.
The king lies wrapped in hellish, woven net,
A trap my vengeful, plotting hand has set.
For Atreus, Agamemnon’s kingly sire,
Against his very brother did conspire.
That brother was Thyestes, cast from home,
When he and Atreus both sought the throne.
Thyestes was my father, clear to say,
Wand’ring in exile ‘till that fatal day,
When home to his own hearth he came again,
And found a ‘safe’ return, most damned of men!
Aria
Atreus, more cruel than kind, prepared a feast,
He lied and said his blackened heart was clean,
But then, instead of flesh of slaughtered beast,
He cooked Thyestes’ children, all thirteen.
The feet and hands all chopped upon the plate,
Atreus concealed beneath the pile,
All unsuspecting, then, Thyestes ate,
Creating deathless sorrows all the while.
And when Thyestes knew his brother’s crime,
He screamed and spat the bloody slaughter out,
And cursed his race, and all of Atreus’ line,
Those curses now, you see, have come about.
The right of vengeance all this to me gave:
I was an infant when my siblings died.
And so the only child Thyestes saved:
I shared his second exile at his side.
But when I grew up, Justice brought me home,
From outside, I overtook the king,
Contriving evil plots for Atreus’ son,
O’er Agamemnon’s death here, I sing!
Chorus (1612-16)
Aegisthus, how can you gloat upon this suffering!
Can you claim you killed this man?
Can you claim this awful murder?
Be sure you cannot flee the people’s curse.
Aegisthus (1617-19)
You give me orders?
You are the slaves who pull the oars below,
while we who rule guide the rudder of the ship.
Though you are old, you will learn a heavy lesson.
Chorus (1625-7, 1633-5)
Coward!
You waited at home for the men returning from battle.
You shamed the general’s bed while you planned his death.
So you will be the tyrant of Argos?
You, who did not dare to do the deed yourself?
Aegisthus (1636-40)
The treachery was clearly his wife’s job.
I was mistrusted, an enemy from long ago.
Now I will use Agamemnon’s wealth to rule his people.
Whoever disobeys will be yoked with brutal bonds.
Chorus (1646-8)
If Orestes, Agamemnon’s son, still lives,
whenever by the grace of fortune he returns,
may he destroy you both!
Aegisthus (1649)
You’ll learn your lesson now!
Chorus (1650)
My friends, the time is come!
Aegisthus (1651)
Swords ready, all!
Chorus (1652)
I’m not afraid to die.
Klytemnestra (1654, 1656, 1672-3)
No, my love, let us have no more fighting.
There has been enough of pain.
Let us shed no more blood.
Ignore them and their empty talk.
You and I, ruling in this palace,
shall put all things right.
FINIS
____________________________
1 The diction and phraseology of Lloyd-Jones are preferenced in this aria.