Rhesus   

He is a bold foe for us.
Who is? whom art thou praising for valiancy?
Odysseus.
Praise not the crafty weapons that a robber uses.
CHORUS Once before he came into this city, with swimming bleary eyes,
in rags and tatters clad, his sword hidden in his cloak. And like
some vagrant menial he slunk about begging his board, his hair all
tousled and matted with filth, and many a bitter curse he uttered
against the royal house of the Atreidae, as though forsooth he were
to those chiefs opposed. Would, oh! Would, oh! would he had perished,
as was his due, or ever he set foot on Phrygia's soil!
SEMI-CHORUS Whether it were really Odysseus or not, I am afeard.
Aye surely, for Hector will blame us sentinels.
What can he allege?
He will suspect.
What have we done? why art afeard?
By us did pass-
Well, who?
They who this night came to the Phrygian host. (Enter CHARIOTEER.)
CHARIOTEER O crue! stroke of fate. Woe, woe!
CHORUS Hush! be silent all! Crouch low, for maybe there cometh someone
into the snare.
CHARIOTEER Oh, oh! dire mishap to the Thracian allies.
CHORUS Who is he that groans?
CHARIOTEER Alack, alack! Woe is me and woe is thee, O king of thrace!
How curst the sight of Troy to thee! how sad the blow that closed
thy life!
CHORUS Who art thou? an ally? which? night's gloom hath dulled these
eyes, I cannot clearly recognize thee.
CHARIOTEER Where can I find some Trojan chief? Where doth Hector
take his rest under arms? Alack and well-a-day! To which of the captains
of the host am I to tell my tale? What sufferings ours! What dark
deeds someone hath wrought on us and gone his way, when he had wound
up a clew of sorrow manifest to every Thracian!
CHORUS From what I gather of this man's words, some calamity, it
seems, is befalling the Thracian host.
CHARIOTEER Lost is all our host, our prince is dead, slain by a treacherous
blow. Woe worth the hour! woe worth the day! O the cruel anguish of
this bloody wound that inly racks my frame! Would I were dead! Was
it to die this inglorious death that Rhesus and I did come to Troy?
CHORUS This is plain language; in no riddles he declares the disaster;
all too clearly he asserts our friends' destruction.
CHARIOTEER A sorry deed it was, and more than that a deed most foul;
yea, 'tis an evil doubly bad; to die with glory, if die one must,
is bitterness enough I trow to him who dies; assuredly it is; though
to the living it add dignity and honour for their house. But we, like
fools, have died a death of shame. No sooner had great Hector given
us our quarters and told us the watchword than we laid us down to
sleep upon the ground, o'ercome by weariness. No guard our army set
to watch by night. Our arms we set not in array, nor were the whips
hung ready on the horses' yokes, for our prince was told that you
were masters now, and had encamped hard on their ships; so carelessly
we threw us down to sleep. Now I with thoughtful mind awoke from my
slumber, and with ungrudging hand did measure out the horses' feed,
expecting to harness them at dawn unto the fray; when lo! through
the thick gloom two men I see roaming around our army. But when I
roused myself they fled away, and were gone once more; and I called
out to them to keep away from our army, for I thought they might be
thieves from our allies. No answer made they, so I too said no more,
but came back to my couch and slept again. And lo! as I slept came
a strange fancy o'er me: I saw, methought as in a dream, those steeds
that I had groomed and used to drive, stationed at Rhesus' side, with
wolves mounted on their backs; and these with their tails did lash
the horses' flanks and urge them on, while they did snort and breathe