by Daisy Dunn
First, they fit their greaves to their two legs,
after breaking some pale beans and fitting them well,
beans they nibbled clean by working on them all night.
They had chestpieces made of reed-bound hides
which they made skillfully after flaying a weasel.
Their shield was the middle-section of a lamp. And their spear
was a well-measured needle, a completely bronze work of Ares.
The helmet on their temples was the husk of chick pea.
And this is the way the mice were armed. When the frogs noticed
they rose up from the water: and once they gathered in the same place
they summoned a council for wicked war.
While they were examining the conflict and noise,
a herald approached carrying a staff in his hand:
Bowldiver, the son of great-hearted Cheeseborer,
in announcing the evil report of war said these kind of things:
“My frogs: the mice threaten you and send me
to tell you to arm yourselves for war and battle.
They saw Crumbthief, whom your king
Bellowmouth killed in the water. But fight,
all of you who were born best among the frogs.”
He explained it, speaking in this way. The report entered all their ears
and disturbed the minds of the arrogant frogs.
While they were reproaching, Bellowmouth stood and said:
“Friends, I didn’t kill the mouse, nor did I witness him dying.
He drowned altogether because he was playing near the shore
trying to mimic the swimming of frogs. These villains
are blaming me when I am not at fault. But let us seek
a plan so that we may kill those treacherous mice.
I will announce the strategy that seems best to me.
Let all of us stand after adorning ourselves in arms
on the top of the banks where the land is steep.
Whenever they come rushing against us—
Once we have snatched them by their helmets as each approaches—
we will throw them straight into the water with their weapons.
When we drown those unaccustomed to the water in this way,
we will happily dedicate a trophy to the murder of mice.”
So speaking he persuaded everyone to arm themselves.
First, they covered their shins with the leaves of reeds
and they had breastplates from fine yellow beets
while they fitted the leaves of cabbage into shields well
and a great sharp reed was worked as a spear for each.
The horns of polished snails covered their heads.
They stood on the high banks defending themselves;
and as they brandished their spears, courage filled each of them.
Zeus called the gods to starry heaven
and showed them the mass of war and strong warriors
so many, so great, carrying enormous spears
just as the army of centaurs or giants had once approached them.
Then, laughing sweetly, he asked who among the immortals
were supporters for the frogs or mice. And he addressed Athena:
“Daughter, won’t you go forth to help the mice?
For they all continuously dance around your temple
Delighting in the smell and every kind of treat.”
So Kronos’ son asked and Athena responded:
“Father, I would never come to the aid of the distressed mice
because they have done me many evils
by ruining my garlands and lamps to get at the oil.
One thing they did really wears at my thoughts.
They ate up at the robe which I wore myself out weaving
from tender weft I spun myself on a great warp—
they fill it with holes. The mender waits for me
and makes me his debtor, a thing horrible for the gods.
For I spun it in debt and I can’t pay it back.
But there is no way I want to help the frogs.
For these creatures are not of sound mind: yesterday
when I was returning from war and really worn out
and needing sleep, they did not allow me to nap even a little,
as they made a ruckus. And I lay there sleepless,
with a headache until the rooster crowed.
Come on, let us gods avoid helping them,
lest one of us get wounded by a sharp missile,
for they fight up close, even if a god should confront them.
Let’s all instead enjoy watching this battle from heaven.”
So she spoke and the other gods assented to her
and they all came gathered together in one spot.
Then some mosquitoes bearing great trumpets
sounded the dread song of battle. And from heaven
Kronos’ son, Zeus, thundered the portent of wicked war.
First, Croakmaster struck Lickman with a spear
through his stomach, mid-liver, as he stood among the forefighters.
And he fell down headlong and dirtied his delicate hair.
He thundered as he fell, and his weapons clattered about him.
Hole-dweller next hurled at Muddy’s son
and fixed a stout spear in his chest. Then black death took him
as he fell and his soul flew from his body.
Bowldiver killed Beeteater when he struck him in the heart
and Breadmuncher struck Sir Croaks-a-lot in the stomach—
and he then fell headlong, and his soul flew from his limbs.
When Pondlubber saw Sir Croaks-a-lot dying
he acted first in crushing Holedweller’s tender neck
with a rock like a mill-stone. Then darkness covered his eyes.
Grief overtook Basilson and he drove him through with a sharp reed
as the other didn’t raise his spear against him. When Lickman saw this,
he took aim at him with his own shining spear
and hurled it: he didn’t miss his liver. Then, when he noticed
that Spice-eater was fleeing, he rushed upon the lush banks.
And he did not let up from battle, no, he ran him through.
He fell and didn’t look up again: then the pond was dyed
with purple blood even as he was stretched out on the shore
as he tried to rise with his intestines and trailing loins.
Then he despoiled Cheesenibbler on the same banks.
When Minty saw Hamcarver he went into flight
and he was driven into the pond while rushing, after abandoning his shield.
Blameless Mudbedder killed Poundweight.
Watergrace killed King Hameater
after striking him with a stone on the top of his head. And his brains
dribbled from his nose and the earth was spattered with blood.
Platelicker then killed blameless Mudbedder
as he sprung at him with his spear. Then darkness covered his eyes.
When Greenstalk saw this, he dragged Smokehunter by the foot,
overpowered him, and drowned him in the pond as he reached out his hand.
Crumbthief defended his dead friend
and hurled at Greenstalk through his stomach into his liver—
then he fell forward and his soul descended to Hades.
Cabbagetreader saw this and threw a lump of mud at him;
it smeared his face and he nearly blinded him.
When he was enraged by this, he grabbed a heavy rock
lying on the ground, a burden to the earth, with his stout hand
and he struck Cabbagetreader with it below the knees. His right greave
was completely shattered and he fell face-up into the dust.
Croakerson defended him and went straight at the other guy,
striking him in the middle of the stomach. The whole sharp reed
pierced into him and all of his guts poured out on the ground
because of the spear as it was withdrawn by the strong hand.
When Holedweller saw this from the banks of the river,
he retreated, limping from the battle to rest, since he was terribly worn out.
He rushed into the ditches in order to flee the sheer destruction.
Breadmuncher struck Bellowmouth on the top of the foot.
He retreated to the furthest part of the pond, terribly worn out.
And when Greenstalk saw him falling still half-alive,
again he then ran out, desiring to kill,
and he went through the champions and hurled his sharp-reed.
He didn’t break the shield and the tip of the spear held fast.
Shining Oregano, as he imitated Ares himself,
and was the only one who prevailed through the engagement among the frogs,
did not strike the four-measured, blameless helm
but he rushed at him. But when the frog saw him, he didn’t wait for
the strong heroes, but he dived into the depths of the pond.
There was a child among the mice who stood out from all others,
Pieceplunder, the dear son of blameless Grater, the Bread-councilor.
He was on his way home; he had ordered the child to join in the war.
But he was threatening to eliminate the race of the frogs
as he stood nearby desiring to fight with force.
First, he split a nut along its middle into two halves
and set them on both his bare hands as defense,
then everyone feared him and scattered around the pond.
He would have achieved his goal since his strength was so great
if the father of men and gods had not taken note.
Kronos’ son pitied the dying frogs;
he spoke this kind of speech as he shook his head.
“O wretches, I really see a wonder with my eyes!
Pieceplunder worries me not a little as he crosses like
a thief among the frogs. But quickly then,
let’s send war-rousing Pallas or even Ares
to restrain him from battle, even though he is mighty.”
So Zeus spoke and Ares responded with a speech:
“Son of Kronos, neither the power of Athena nor Ares
is able to ward steep destruction from the frogs.
Let’s all go as allies. Or maybe you should
brandish your arms. Whoever is best will be caught in this way,
as when you killed the stout man Kapaneus,
great Enkelados, and the fierce tribes of the giants.”
So he spoke and the son of Kronos threw down shining lightning
and thundered first and shook great Olympos.
Then he hurled and threw the frightening weapon of Zeus
and it flew from the master’s hand
and frightened all the frogs and mice as he threw.
But the army of the mice did not let up—they even more
hoped to eradicate the race of spear-bearing frogs—
unless Kronos’ son took pity on the frogs from Olympos
and sent helpers straight away to the frogs.
Suddenly, the armor-backed, crooked-clawed
bow-waling, twisted, scissor-mouthed, hard-shelled,
bone-built, broad-backed, with shining shoulders,
crooked-legged, lip-stretching, with eyes set in their chest,
eight-footed, two-headed, handless creatures who are called
crabs, went to war. They easily cut off the mice’s tails with their mouths
along with their feet and hands. And their spears were bent back.
The cowardly mice were frightened of them and waited no longer
to turn to flight. The sun was already setting.
And the end of this war was accomplished in a single day.
THE VENGEANCE OF CLYTEMNESTRA
Agamemnon
Aeschylus
Translated by Louis MacNeice, 1936
Agamemnon, King of Mycenae and leader of the Greek army in the Trojan War, sacrificed his own daughter Iphigenia to secure a favourable wind for his journey to Troy. His father before him killed his brother’s children and fed him their remains by concealing them in his dinner. In Aeschylus’ (c. 525/524–456/455 BC) tragedy, the first in his Oresteia trilogy, the past comes back to haunt Agamemnon. As the Chorus reveals at the beginning of this extract from the play, Agamemnon has survived and triumphed in the Trojan War. He has now returned home with Cassandra, prophetess daughter of King Priam of Troy, as his concubine. Little does Agamemnon know that his wife Clytemnestra has also taken a lover, Aegisthus, in his absence. Cassandra, whose misfortune is to never be believed, has accurately foretold the devastating events of this scene. The poet Louis MacNeice captures the stateliness of Aeschylus’ Greek in his translation.
CHORUS.
Prosperity in all men cries
For more prosperity. Even the owner
Of the finger-pointed-at palace never shuts
His door against her, saying ‘Come no more’.
So to our king the blessed gods had granted
To take the town of Priam, and heaven-favoured
He reaches home. But now if for former bloodshed
He must pay blood
And dying for the dead shall cause
Other deaths in atonement
What man could boast he was born
Secure, who heard this story?
AGAMEMNON. [Within]
Oh! I am struck a mortal blow—within!
LEADER.
Silence! Listen. Who calls out, wounded with a mortal stroke?
AGAMEMNON.
Again—the second blow—I am struck again.
LEADER.
You heard the king cry out. I think the deed is done.
Let us see if we can concert some sound proposal.
2ND OLD MAN.
Well, I will tell you my opinion—
Raise an alarm, summon the folk to the palace.
3RD OLD MAN.
I say burst in with all speed possible,
Convict them of the deed while still the sword is wet.
4TH OLD MAN.
And I am partner to some such suggestion.
I am for taking some course. No time to dawdle.
5TH OLD MAN.
The case is plain. This is but the beginning.
They are going to set up dictatorship in the state.
6TH OLD MAN.
We are wasting time. The assassins tread to earth
The decencies of delay and give their hands no sleep.
7TH OLD MAN.
I do not know what plan I could hit on to propose.
The man who acts is in the position to plan.
8TH OLD MAN.
So I think, too, for I am at a loss
To raise the dead man up again with words.
9TH OLD MAN.
Then to stretch out our life shall we yield thus
To the rule of these profaners of the house?
10TH OLD MAN.
It is not to be endured. To die is better.
Death is more comfortable than tyranny.
11TH OLD MAN.
And are we on the evidence of groans
Going to give oracle that the prince is dead?
12TH OLD MAN.
We must know the facts for sure and then be angry.
Guesswork is not the same as certain knowledge.
LEADER.
Then all of you back me and approve this plan—
To ascertain how it is with Agamemnon.
[The doors of the palace open, revealing the bodies of AGAMEMNON and CASSANDRA. CLYTEMNESTRA stands above them.]
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Much having been said before to fit the moment,
To say the opposite now will not outface me.
How else could one serving hate upon the hated,
> Thought to be friends, hang high the nets of doom
To preclude all leaping out?
For me I have long been training for this match,
I tried a fall and won—a victory overdue.
I stand here where I struck, above my victims;
So I contrived it—this I will not deny—
That he could neither fly nor ward off death;
Inextricable like a net for fishes
I cast about him a vicious wealth of raiment
And struck him twice and with two groans he loosed
His limbs beneath him, and upon him fallen
I deal him the third blow to the God beneath the earth,
To the safe keeper of the dead a votive gift,
And with that he spits his life out where he lies
And smartly spouting blood he sprays me with
The sombre drizzle of bloody dew and I
Rejoice no less than in God’s gift of rain
The crops are glad when the ear of corn gives birth.
These things being so, you, elders of Argos,
Rejoice if rejoice you will. Mine is the glory.
And if I could pay this corpse his due libation
I should be right to pour it and more than right;
With so many horrors this man mixed and filled
The bowl—and, coming home, has drained the draught himself.
LEADER.
Your speech astonishes us. This brazen boast
Above the man who was your king and husband!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
You challenge me as a woman without foresight
But I with unflinching heart to you who know
Speak. And you, whether you will praise or blame,
It makes no matter. Here lies Agamemnon,
My husband, dead, the work of this right hand,
An honest workman. There you have the facts.
CHORUS.
Woman, what poisoned
Herb of the earth have you tasted
Or potion of the flowing sea
To undertake this killing and the people’s curses?
You threw down, you cut off—The people will cast you out,
Black abomination to the town.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Now your verdict—in my case—is exile
And to have the people’s hatred, the public curses,
Though then in no way you opposed this man
Who carelessly, as if it were a head of sheep
Out of the abundance of his fleecy flocks,
Sacrificed his own daughter, to me the dearest
Fruit of travail, charm for the Thracian winds.
He was the one to have banished from this land.
Pay off the pollution. But when you hear what I
