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Chorale
Jon English
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The gods bless and so they curse, for better or for worse, sire children with their human slaves.
They demand blind loyalty, from beggars to royalty, from the cradle to the grave.
An age of wisdom, madness and glory, an age of war and brooding peace, one chapter from an ageless story known as Ancient Greece.
Achilles of Thessaly,
Cursed with flawed immortality
Agamemnon of Mycenae,
In turn with ambition
Ulysses of Ithaca
Longs for peace and security, long be his road to achieve them.
Menelaus of Sparta,
Is granted the hand of Helen, to share his throne.
He worships her beauty, and thereby is damned, for the gods have fashioned her image on one of their own.
They give with one hand, take with the other, mystic schemes for mortals to discover, inside both human and divine.
Half-truths, believable lies, a glimpse of glory to covetous eyes, fashioned scenes where their end justifies their means.
An age of wisdom, madness and glory, a time for atonement, sorrow and joy. The gods watch as the tale unfolds, behind the walls of Troy.
Priam and Hecuba, as regents of the nation, seek only for peace and prosperity.
Hector of Troy, their son, a soldier, a hero, who proudly caught his destiny.
Paris, in love with life and its beauty, hears a goddess call his name.
Will he follow his head or his heart to her, or turn away in vain?
Oh Paris, come wander from your fold, and grant me your apples cast from gold.
Answer my call, I can offer it all, take me as your reward, be mine Paris, forever and ever.
A princess of Troy watches over the boy and prays, her senses deceive her, only Cassandra can see what the future holds, and only her priest will believe her.
Oh Paris, I saw from the start, one goddess, one human counterpart.
So, the gods give and so they take, (So with reason on a razor's edge) they praise and humiliate, (the king of Troy makes a pledge) they exploit the pleasures and the pain (To send his son in search of peace).
(understanding and goodwill) They destroy then compensate. (Will this nation ever be the same?) Lavish love, extol the hate. (Or will insanity reign?)
Now a young man heeds the call, bewitched by a goddess(Paris will you see the hidden truth?) So the debt is called (Or will you hide behind the mask of youth?)
You should have known better......
Oh Paris, come wander from your fold, and grant me your apples cast from gold.