SCENE II.

CLYTEMNESTRA, CHORUS.

Chorus. THY presence, Clytemnestra, I approach
With the respectful homage that should greet
My absent monarch's consort; do these rites
Announce true tidings, or thy high-wrought hopes?
Fain I would know, but fear to importune.

Cl. May the morn, springing from the womb of night,

Rise fraught with smiling fortune on this land:
Listen to tidings bright beyond our hopes,

The conquering Greeks in Priam's city reign.

Ch. What words are these.-I scarce can credence

yield.

Cl. That Troy is ours, can words more plainly

speak?

Ch. These tears attest the fervour of my joy.