God on high Looks graciously on him whom triumph's hour Has made not pitiless. - Aeschylus

KLYTAIMESTRA.
Oh stop whining.
And why get angry at Helen?
As if she singlehandedly destroyed those
multitudes of men
As if she all alone
made this wound in us.

Marvels, the Earth breeds many marvels,
terrible marvels overwhelm us.
The heaving arms of the sea embrace and swarm
with savage life. And high in the no man's land of night
torches hang like swords.

For fear, enforcing goodness,
Must somewhere reign enthroned,
And watch men’s ways, and teach them,
Through self-inflicted sorrow,
That sin is not condoned.
What man, no longer nursing
Fear at his heart – what city,
Once fear is cast away,
Will bow the knee to Justice
As in an earlier day?