Agamemnon’s Death
Relaxed and carefree in his welcome bath,
Proud Agamemnon washed away the grime
OfTroy’s prolonged campaign. At last the wounds
Of war were sluiced in victory and he
Could plan a peaceful future for his land.
Ablutions done, he stepped up from the pool
To take the robe from his attendant wife,
The dark-eyed Clytemnestra, standing close.
A sudden glare!. Instinct brought his recoil
Too late!. Blade bit breast; blood burst from gape-gash.
He turned to run. Feet on wet marble slipped.
He fell, twisting to mouth a voiceless “Why?”
As Clytemnestra struck again at him.
Into his blurring vision limped the lame
Ægisthus, dagger drawn. Hope leaped, then died,
As past the frenzied woman lurched his friend
To grasp the fallen warlord’s tangled hair
And cut his throbbing, silent throat across;
Extinguishing the comprehension reached,
Too late!, that they had plotted for his death –
Whilst he, against the weathered walls ofTroy,
Had fought ten years for noble principle –
To cover their adultery and claim
His rights, his throne, his honour and his wealth!.
