Aeschylus - Agamemnon (Chorus, ll. 161-236) lyrics

Zeus, great nameless all in all, if that name will gain his favour, I will call him Zeus. I have no words to do him justice, weighing all in the balance, all I have is Zeus, Zeus-- lift this weight, this torment from my spirit, cast it once for all. He who was so mighty once, storming for the wars of heaven, he had had his day. And then his son who came to power met his match in the third fall and he is gone, Zeus, Zeus-- raise your cries and sing him Zeus the Victor! You will reach the truth: Zeus has led us on to know, the Helmsman lays it down as law that we must suffer, suffer into truth. We cannot sleep, and drop by drop at the heart the pain of pain remembered comes again, and we resist, but ripeness comes as well. For the gods enthroned on the awesome rowing-bench there comes a violent love. So it was that day the king, the steersman at the helm of Greece, would never blame a word the prophet said-- swept away by the wrenching winds of fortune he conspired! Weatherbound we could not sail, our stores exhausted, fighting strength hard-pressed, and the squadrons rode in the shallows off Chalkis where the riptide crashes, drags, and winds from the north pinned down our hulls at Aulis, port of anguish... head winds starving, sheets and the cables snapped and the men's minds strayed, the pride, the bloom of Greece was raked as time ground on, ground down, and then the cure for the storm and t was harsher -- Calchas cried, 'My captains, Artemis must have blood!' -- so harsh the sons of Atreus dashed their sceptres on the rocks, could not hold back the tears, and I still can hear the older warlord saying, 'Obey, obey, or a heavy doom will crush me!-- Oh but doom will crush me once I rend my child, the glory of my house-- a father's hands are stained, blood of a young girl streaks the altar. Pain both ways and what is worse? Desert the fleets, fail the alliance? No, but stop the winds with a virgin's blood, feed their lust, their fury? -- feed their fury!-- Law is law!-- Let all go well.' And once he slipped his neck in the strap of Fate, his spirit veering black, impure, unholy, once he turned he stopped at nothing, seized with the frenzy blinding driving to outrage-- wretched frenzy, cause of all our grief! Yes, he had the heart to sacrifice his daughter, to bless the war that avenged a woman's loss, a bridal rite that sped the men-of-war. 'My father, father!' -- she might pray to the winds; no innocence moves her judges mad for war. Her father called his henchmen on, on with a prayer, 'Hoist her over the altar like a yearling, give it all your strength! She's fainting-- lift her, sweep her robes around her, but slip this strap in her gentle curving lips... here, gag her hard, a sound will curse the house' --