Page:Agamemnon (Murray 1920).djvu/33

vv. 331–354. Hath gathered, ravenous, in the dawn, to feast

At last on all the plenty Troy possessed,

No portion in that feast nor ordinance,

But each man clutching at the prize of chance.

Aye, there at last under good roofs they lie

Of men spear-quelled, no frosts beneath the sky,

No watches more, no bitter moony dew

How blessèd they will sleep the whole night through!

Oh, if these days they keep them free from sin

Toward Ilion's conquered shrines and Them within

Who watch unconquered, maybe not again

The smiter shall be smit, the taker ta'en.

May God but grant there fall not on that host

The greed of gold that maddeneth and the lust

To spoil inviolate things! But half the race

Is run which windeth back to home and peace.

Yea, though of God they pass unchallengèd,

Methinks the wound of all those desolate dead

Might waken, groping for its will

Ye hear

A woman's word, belike a woman's fear.

May good but conquer in the last incline

Of the balance! Of all prayers that prayer is mine.

O Woman, like a man faithful and wise

Thou speakest. I accept thy testimonies

And turn to God with praising, for a gain

Is won this day that pays for all our pain.