Pauline Oliveros -Chorus 2 - voice, accordion
Phil Minton - Herald - voice
Roger Turner - percussion

CHORUS 2
I see a lyght

is it rashnes rude and blynde to declare
that the slaughters so unpure had no powre to foyle him
that hee such scourings hath escapt
and returnes tryumphant victor of long assaulted Troy

a man comes who can say
if wee might all be glad agayne

till hee speakes I pray for the good
they who do not can reap theyr harts owne calamity


HERALD
thys my natyve soyle and the Gods
in humble sort wyth reverence devoutly worship I

now paye your vowes unto the Gods
returned is agayne Prynce Agamemnon victor hee

for his people the light of heaven
for Troy the lepping lightning fyre
that teasty Jove did use to hurle provokt to swelling yre
with the lothsome actes of Priam and his stocke

that lightning downe did wryng them hard and wrapt them in its flame
with the puissant force thereof
wee did burne away and broyle
the temples and the alters of the saincts that rule theyr skyes

Priam by handy stroake did take his fatall wound
after his sonnes gashed carkas was traynd about the field
and now the Troyans doe groveling bend
theyr weary neckes in heavy yokes that wil not slacke

funerall flames and obit rightes for coyne agayne was yeld
more then a dosen tymes over


CHORUS 2
hale take leasure good and stay


HERALD
I could dye happy
taking up my tombe heere
the coast where Pelops once did raygne


CHORUS 2
did affection for thy people
way so heavy on thee


HERALD
I am as it were a conquerd man escaping home
so greevous did I longe to return to thee


CHORUS 2
wee were in bondage eake of sighes and teares
longing for ten yeres with pensive hart and sorrow for thee


HERALD
wee did grone alyke with this so monstrous ill


CHORUS 2
but wee were silent for feare as darke as hell


HERALD
suffering comes to al but the Gods

wee poor wretches who toyled agaynst that forte
wee layde for yeares uppon the naked shore of Troy
cold and shivering in the hory froth
till the day came when wee fell to part the spoyle
embathed al in Troyan bloude

may these outragious plagues
appease at length the wrath that downe from God is sent

but why should wee disposed be to mourn
the slayne layde in Troyan ground
they howle not at the ill that worketh theyr decay

wee are the quicke wee hop for joye
wee are home heavy with the goods by bloudshed woon
and with the great renoume
of beyng in his company of such a mighty fleete

all these beside the Troyans subdued wee have
all these wee blesse with burning sacrifice on this lucky day

such are the tydinges I beare thee


CHORUS 2
now by this newes a thousand ships at once released
I was wronge to doubt her
thy counsayle I shall keepe and not complayne my case

go declare to her to Clytemnestra
this glad message which pacifys our mynde