Look, how the spurted stain combines with time
To blur the many dyes that once adorned
Its pattern manifold! I now stand here,
Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing-
Hear, O thou woven web that slew my sire!
I
grieve for deed and death and all my home-
Victor, pollution's
damned stain for prize.
CHORUS (chanting)
Alas, that none of
mortal men
Can pass his life
untouched by pain!
Behold, one woe is here-
Another loometh near.
ORESTES
Hark ye and learn-for what the end shall be
For me I know not: breaking from the curb
My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey,
Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught
Far from the course, and
madness in my breast
Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave-
Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes!
I say that rightfully I slew my mother,
A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire.
And chiefest
wizard of the spell that bound me
Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer
Apollo, who
foretold that if I slew,
The guilt of murder done should pass from me;
But if I spared, the fate that should be mine
I dare not blazon forth-the bow of speech
Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell.
And now behold me, how with branch and crown
I pass, a suppliant made meet to go
Unto Earth's midmost
shrine, the holy ground
Of Loxias, and that
renowned light
Of ever-burning fire, to 'scape the doom
Of
kindred murder: to no other
shrine(So Loxias bade) may I for
refuge turn.
Bear
witness, Argives, in the after time,
How came on me this dread fatality.
Living, I pass a banished
wanderer hence,
To leave in death the memory of this cry.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lips
To speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words-
Who hast to Argos her full freedom given,
Lopping two serpents' heads with
timely blow.
ORESTES
Look, look, alas!
Handmaidens, see-what Gorgon shapes
throng up
Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound-
Snakes coiled with snakes-off, off,-I must away!
LEADER
Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire,
What visions thus
distract thee? Hold, abide;
Great was thy
victory, and shalt thou fear?
ORESTES
These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill,
But clear to sight another's hell-hounds come!
LEADER
Nay, the fresh
bloodshed still imbrues thine hands,
And
thencedistraction sinks into thy soul.
ORESTES
O king Apollo-see, they swarm and
throng-
Black blood of
hatred dripping from their eyes!
LEADER
One
remedy thou hast; go, touch the
shrineOf Loxias, and rid thee of these woes.
ORESTES
Ye can behold them not, but I behold them.
Up and away! I dare abide no more.
(He rushes out.)
LEADER
Farewell then as thou mayst,-the god thy friend
Guard thee and aid with chances favouring.
CHORUS (chanting)
Behold, the storm of woe divine
That raves and beats on Atreus' line
Its great third blast hath blown.
First was Thyestes' loathly woe
The rueful feast of long ago,
On children's flesh, unknown.
And next the
kingly chief's despite,
When he who led the Greeks to fight
Was in the bath hewn down.
And now the offspring of the race
Stands in the third, the saviour's place,
To save-or to consume?
O whither, ere it be fulfilled,
Ere its
fierce blast be hushed and stilled,
Shall blow the wind of doom?
THE END
.