ORESTES.
There are two songs running in my ears this hour past; and I know not fully even yet which of the two is better.
PYRRHUS.
Let it be something joyful, meet for a feast-day.
ORESTES.
I fancied before that one of my songs was very joyful; but now methinks there is no joy at all in either.
PYRRHUS.
[_After looking at him questioningly for a moment._] Then give us a good straight battle-piece, with no cowards in it, and no slaying by stealth.
ORESTES.
[_Excitedly._] That it shall be! No cowards, no slaying by stealth, and a clean, hard fight! Ay, and it is the easier too!
PRIEST.
You will call first upon the god, stranger.
ORESTES.
Assuredly; and the god can choose the end of the lay. [_Chanting._
"Lord of Man's hope, whom no man worshippeth, Heart of his fears, and burthen of his breath, Queller of hate and love, hear, O Most Strong, Most Wrathful and Unrighteous, hear, O Death!"
MEN-AT-ARMS.
Good words! Good words!
PRIEST.
God avert the omen!
[_He goes and does purifications at the fire._
ALCIMEDON.
On his own head! By Thetis! this stranger has run over with evil words ever since he came.
PYRRHUS.
Choose another song, Sir Stranger! Men like not the name of Death.
ORESTES.
Not death! Shall I sing of women, then? They come nearest. [_Chants._
"O Light and Shadow of all things that be, O Beauty, wild with wreckage like the sea, Say who shall win thee, thou without a name?
O Helen, Helen, who shall die for thee?"
ALCIMEDON.
[_Starting up._] Now, by Thetis, stranger, in shape God has made you kinglike, but within a very fool!
HERMIONE.
[_Piteously._] My mother Helen never _wished_ the men to die!
ORESTES.
My singing mislikes you, old man? Or is it women that like you not?
PYRRHUS.
Stranger, some gayer song would better suit a day of rejoicing. Are the songs of Acarnania all sad?
ORESTES.
Do the men of Phthia wince at the name of death?
ALCIMEDON.
We have our own bard, who can sing to our liking; and his lays will tell whether we fear death.
ORESTES.
Your own bard will sing your own valour, belike? That I can ill do; for I have heard but little of the deeds of Pyrrhus.
ALCIMEDON.
The name of Troy has been heard, perchance, even in Acarnania?
ORESTES.
But the praise of your ancestors I could make into something--something gayer, you said? Was aeacus the first of your house?
ALCIMEDON.
aeacus, son of Zeus.
ORESTES.
[_Twanging the lyre carelessly and improvising._