Stretched rendingly forth, to
tatter and tear,
My clenched hands
wander, here and there,
From head to breast; distraught with blows
Throb dizzily my brows.
ELECTRA
Aweless in hate, O mother,
sternly brave!
As in a foeman's grave
Thou laid'st in earth a king, but to the bier
No citizen drew nears-
Thy husband, thine, yet for his obsequies,
Thou bad'st no wail arise!
ORESTES
Alas, the
shameful burial thou dost speak!
Yet I the
vengeance of his shame will wreak-
That do the gods command!
That shall
achieve mine hand!
Grant me to
thrust her life away, and
Will dare to die!
CHORUS
List thou the deed! Hewn down and foully torn,
He to the tomb was borne;
Yea, by her hand, the deed who wrought,
With like dishonour to the grave was brought,
And by her hand she
strove, with strong desire,
Thy life to crush, O child, by murder of thy sire:
Bethink thee,
hearing, of the shame, the pain
Wherewith that sire was slain!
ELECTRA
Yea, such was the doom of my sire; well-a-day,
I was
thrust from his side,-
As a dog from the
chamber they
thrust me away,
And in place of my
laughter rose sobbing and tears,
As in darkness I lay.
O father, if this word can pass to thine ears,
To thy soul let it reach and abide!
CHORUS
Let it pass, let it
pierce, through the sense of thine ear,
To thy soul, where in silence it waiteth the hour!
The past is
accomplished; but rouse thee to hear
What the future prepareth; awake and appear,
Our
champion, in wrath and in power!
ORESTES
O father, to thy loved ones come in aid.
ELECTRA
With tears I call on thee.
CHORUS
Listen and rise to light!
Be thou with us, be thou against the foe!
Swiftly this cry arises-even so
Pray we, the loyal band, as we have prayed!
ORESTES
Let their might meet with mine, and their right with my right.
ELECTRA
O ye Gods, it is yours to decree.
CHORUS
Ye call unto the dead; I quake to hear.
Fate is ordained of old, and shall
fulfil your prayer.
ELECTRA
Alas, the inborn curse that haunts our home,
Of Ate's bloodstained
scourge the tuneless sound!
Alas, the deep insufferable doom,
The stanchless wound!
ORESTES
It shall be stanched, the task is ours,-
Not by a stranger's, but by
kindred hand,
Shall be chased forth the blood-fiend of our land.
Be this our
spoken spell, to call Earth's
nether powers!
CHORUS
Lords of a dark eternity,
To you has come the children's cry,
Send up from hell,
fulfil your aid
To them who prayed.
(The chant is concluded.)
ORESTES
O father, murdered in unkingly wise,
Fulfil my prayer, grant me thine halls to sway.
ELECTRA
To me, too, grant this boon-dark death to deal
Unto Aegisthus, and to 'scape my doom.
ORESTES
So shall the
rightful feasts that mortals pay
Be set for thee; else, not for thee shall rise
The scented reek of altars fed with flesh,
But thou shalt lie dishonoured: hear thou me!
ELECTRA
I too, from my full
heritage restored,
Will pour the lustral streams, what time I pass
Forth as a bride from these
paternal halls,
And honour first, beyond all graves, thy tomb.
ORESTES
Earth, send my sire to fend me in the fight!
ELECTRA
Give fair-faced fortune, O Persephone!
ORESTES
Bethink thee, father, in the laver slain-
ELECTRA
Bethink thee of the net they handselled for thee!
ORESTES
Bonds not of brass ensnared thee, father mine.
ELECTRA
Yea, the ill craft of an enfolding robe.
ORESTES
By this our bitter speech arise, O sire!
ELECTRA
Raise thou thine head at love's last, dearest call!
ORESTES
Yea, speed forth Right to aid thy kinsmen's cause;
Grip for grip, let them grasp the foe, if thou
Willest in
triumph to forget thy fall.
ELECTRA
Hear me, O father, once again hear me.
Lo! at thy tomb, two fledglings of thy brood-
A man-child and a maid; hold them in ruth,
Nor wipe them out, the last of Pelops' line.
For while they live, thou livest from the dead;
Children are memory's voices, and preserve
The dead from
wholly dying: as a net
Is ever by the
buoyant corks upheld,
Which save the flax-mesh, in the depth submerged.
Listen, this wail of ours doth rise for thee,
And as thou heedest it thyself art saved.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
In sooth, a
blameless prayer ye spake at length-
The tomb's requital for its dirge denied:
Now, for the rest, as thou art fixed to do,
Take fortune by the hand and work thy will.
ORESTES
The doom is set; and yet I fain would ask-
Not swerving from the course of my resolve,-
Wherefore she sent these offerings, and why
She softens all too late her cureless deed?
An idle boon it was, to send them here
Unto the dead who recks not of such gifts.
I cannot guess her thought, but well I ween
Such gifts are skilless to atone such crime.
Be blood once spilled, an idle
strife he strives
Who seeks with other
wealth or wine outpoured
To atone the deed. So stands the word, nor fails.
Yet would I know her thought; speak, if thou knowest.
LEADER
I know it, son; for at her side I stood.
'Twas the night-
wandering
terror of a dream
That flung her shivering from her couch, and bade her-
Her, the
accursed of God-these offerings send.
ORESTES
Heard ye the dream, to tell it forth aright?
LEADER
Yea, from herself; her womb a
serpent bare.
ORESTES
What then the sum and issue of the tale?
LEADER
Even as a swaddled child, she lull'd the thing.
ORESTES
What suckling craved the creature, born full-fanged?
LEADER
Yet in her dreams she proffered it the breast.
ORESTES
How? did the
hateful thing not bite her teat?
LEADER
Yea, and sucked forth a blood-gout in the milk.
ORESTES
Not vain this dream-it bodes a man's revenge.
LEADER
Then out of sleep she started with a cry,
And thro' the palace for their mistress' aid
Full many lamps, that erst lay blind with night,
Flared into light; then, even as mourners use,
She sends these offerings, in hope to win
A cure to
cleave and sunder sin from doom.
ORESTES
Earth and my father's grave, to you I call-
Give this her dream
fulfilment, and thro' me.
I read it in each part coincident
With what shall be; for mark, that
serpent sprang
From the same womb as I, in swaddling bands
By the same hands was swathed, lipped the same breast,
And sucking forth the same sweet mother's-milk
Infused a clot of blood; and in alarm
She cried upon her wound the cry of pain.
The rede is clear: the thing of dread she nursed,
The death of blood she dies; and I, 'tis I,
In
semblance of a
serpent, that must slay her.
Thou art my seer, and thus I read the dream.
LEADER
So do; yet ere thou doest, speak to us,
Bidding some act, some, by not
acting, aid.
ORESTES
Brief my command: I bid my sister pass
In silence to the house, and all I bid
This my design with wariness conceal,
That they who did by craft a
chieftain slay
May by like craft and in like noose be talen,
Dying the death which Loxias foretold-
Apollo, king and
prophet undisproved.
I with this
warrior Pylades will come
In
likeness of a stranger, full equipt
As travellers come, and at the palace gates
Will stand, as stranger yet in friendship's bond
Unto this house
allied; and each of us
Will speak the tongue that round Parnassus sounds,
Feigning such speech as Phocian voices use.