Electra Attendant ORESTES, PYLADES, ATTENDANT. THOU son of Agamemnon, who 'gainst Troy Once led the pow'rs of Greece, now may thine eyes Behold what long hath raised thy ardent wish. This is the ancient Argos; this the grove Of Iö, stung with frenzy o'er the earth To wander; the Lycæan forum this Of the Lycæan Phœbus; on the left Glorious through Greece that stately temple stands Sacred to Juno. Now we are advanced Whence thou may'st see Mycenæ rich in gold; And this the house of the Pelopidæ With frequent slaughters stain'd: in times long past, Beneath his murderers when thy father fell, I took thee from thy sister's pious hand, I bore thee hence, I saved thee, to this age I train'd thee to avenge thy father's blood. This hour, Orestes, and thou faithful friend, Orestes Loved Pylades, demands your firm resolves : This hour determine; for the early songs Of birds call forth the sun's resplendent beams, And the stars vanish from the dusky night. Now, ere the foot of man from forth the gates Shall tread the streets, consult: for from this hour Th' important time to instant action calls. O thou most loved of servants, strong the proofs Thou givest me of thy goodness and firm faith: For as the generous steed e'en in old age Of his high courage in the fierce alarm Abates not, but with pride sustains the charge, So dost thou urge me forward, and advance E'en in the front of danger: for this cause I will unfold my counsels to my words Give thou attentive heed, and where I judge ​Amiss,, thy riper prudence be my guide. When to the fate-foretelling shrine I came Of Pytho, and inquired by what best way I on his impious murderers might avenge My father's blood, this answer Phœbus gave, " In arms advance not, nor with martial force, "But steal upon them, and with fraudful hand "Let thy just fury strike th' avenging blow."" These mandates known, as time and chance present A fair occasion, enter thou this house, And learn what passes there; me much imports Clear information; thee they will not know Absent so long, and chang'd by hoary age; Nor thus attired suspicion wilt thou wake. Thou art a stranger, so address thy tale, Of Phocis, sent by Phanoteus, now join'd In close alliance with them; say, and add The sanction of an oath, that by the force Of ruthless fate Orestes is no more, Hurl'd from his chariot in the Pythian games. This be the purport of thy tale. Mean time, Obedient to the god, my father's tomb We with libations and these sever'd locks. Will honour. Thence returning, in our hands The brazen sculptured urn, now, as thou know'st, Hid in the tangled thicket, we will bring; That we may thus deceive them with a tale To them most grateful, that my wretched corse Already on the funeral pile is burnt, And my cold ashes in this urn enclosed. Why should this grieve me, that in words I die, When I in deed am saved, and by them raised To glory? Nor ill-omen'd shall I deem A word which gives the promise of success. Oft e'en the wise have I observed, by fame: Reported dead, return, and rise again...!! To higher honour. Such shall be my boast, I from this rumour shall be found alive, And, like a star, to my astonish'd foes Yet shine. But, O my country, and ye gods The guardians of my country, to your care Receive me, and protect me in these ways! And thou, my father's house! for I am come With vengeance, at the impulse of the gods, To purge thy stain away: send me not hence Dishonour'd, but to wealth, to greatness raised, Give me thy ancient glories to restore ! Of this enough. Be it thy care, old man, The part assign'd thee to discharge. We two Must leave thee now; th' occasion so requires, Whose sovereign power o'er ev'ry work presides. Electra O miserable me! Attendant Some female servant with the voice of grief Methinks I hear lamenting in the house. Orestes Is it not rather poor Electra's voice? Attendant [within. Wilt thou we stay and listen to her moans? That must not be: no deed may we attempt Ere we perform the mandates of the god. Begin with these; and at thy father's tomb Pour the libations: that will give us strength To act, and conquest to our toils ensure. Electra Thou holy light, thou air around the earth Extended wide, how often hast thou heard My strains of woe, how often heard me beat My bleeding breast, when night before the dawn Withdraws her darkening veil! For in her shades The hated couches of this mournful house Are conscious to my grief, while I lament My father's ruin: him the god of war Sunk not with wounds in a barbaric land; My mother, and the partner of her bed, Aegisthus hew'd him with the bloody axe As woodmen hew an oak; nor does thy death, My father, thy unjust and cruel death With sorrow touch one female heart, save mine. But never will I cease my strains of woe, My mournful lamentations, whilst I view The stars bright radiance, whilst I view the day. No; as some nightingale, her young ones lost, Before my father's gates I pour to all My wailings, and the notes of woe, aloud. O house of Pluto and his gloomy queen ; O Hermes, guide to the infernal realms; Thou, dreaded Ate; and ye pow'rs revered, Terrific Furies, daughters of the gods; Those, who by impious hands were slain, you see ; Those, who by stealth the royal bed invade; Come, aid, avenge my murder'd father's blood; Send me my brother; for this weight of grief, Which sinks me, I no more can bear alone! Chorus ELECTRA, CHORUS. Why, poor Electra, in thy mother's crimes For ever wretched, wilt thou pine away In never-ceasing grief? Why still lament, The royal Agamemnon, long since caught In that most impious woman's treacherous wiles, And basely to a murderer's hands betray'd ? Perish the wretch, if I may form that wish, So perish he, who dared the bloody deed! Electra Ye virgins, who from noble parents boast Your generous blood, you come amidst my woes To bring me consolation. Well I know Theseus I understand them well; no part Escapes me; yet I will not cease to grieve; No; I will never cease to mourn, and wail My murder'd father's fate. But, O my friends, Dear to my heart by every tender tie Of mutual love, permit me thus to pour,... Ah me! I pray you, my unceasing griefs... Chorus Yet neither will thy griefs or pray'rs récal Thy father o'er that lake, whose sullen stream All, sprung from mortal race, are doom'd to pass. Why then not moderate thy sorrows? Why Thus waste away in wild excess of grief, Which from thy ills gives no redemption? Why This fondness for intolerable woe?" Electra He to all sense is lost, who can forget A parent's cruel death. The mournful bird, The messenger of Jove, that always wails!// Her Itys, her lost Itys, sooths my soul With all the tender sympathy of grief. And thee, unhappy Niobe, Lhold = In reverence as divine, who pour'st thy tears Fix'd in a rock, the monument of woed af Chorus Yet not by thee alone of all that breathe Is sorrow felt. What share is thine, beyond Those in this house by blood to thee allied? Such is the life Chrysothemis endures; Such Iphianassa's sufferings; such the Youth's, Who in concealment and in silence mourns. Electra Him blest and glorious this illustrious land Of rich Mycenæ shall again receive, The nobly-born Orestes, to these realms Returning by the favouring pow'r of Jove. With ardent expectation his return I look for, wretched, childless, unespoused, Restless, for ever bath'd in tears that flow In anguish for my never-ceasing ills. Yet all my kindness he mean-time forgets, All my instructions. How have I been mock'd With messages? He wishes to return, But to his wish he deigns not to appear. Chorus Sink not, Ah sink not in despair. In heav'n From his high throne Almighty Jove beholds And governs all things: to his pow'r resign Thy flaming indignation; let not hate Too far transport thee; nor forget these wrongs. Time is a lenient god. Nor will the son Of Agamemnon on the pastured beach... Of Chrisa linger, never to return, Nor the dread god that reigns o'er Acheron. Electra But of my life how much to me is lost Already? And, by hope not cheer'd, my ills No longer can I bear, but waste away; My parents lost, and by no worthy friend Protected, like a foreign slave I serve, Disgraceful task! within my father's house, My table scanty, and my vestments mean. Chorus Mournful at his return the voice of woe, Through all the chambers of thy father's house Mournful the voice, when the relentless axe In tempest fell. Fraud first devised, Lust struck The murderous blow, with horrid thought of old Forming the horrid image, were these deeds Or by some god, or daring mortals, wrought. Electra O day, how hateful to me were thy beams! O fatal night, and all the hideous woes Of that nefarious supper! O vile death, Which closed my father's eyes, how basely slain, Slain by the hands of two! Those hands destroy'd My life, betray'd, abandon'd, and undone. Oh may the mighty god, that holds his seat On high Olympus, on their heads repay Avenging sufferings! Never may they taste The sweet delights of joy, who did these things! Chorus Let prudence teach thee caution: curb thy speech. Dost thou not see from what a splendid state Already thou art sunk, disgraced with wrongs Suffer'd by thee alone? And greater wrongs Still shalt thou suffer, if thy mourning heart With wars is always pregnant. To contend With potent sovereigns is unequal strife. Electra I am compell'd by miseries: yet I know My madness; yes, my friends, I know it well; But, in the anguish of such deep-felt griefs, I will not check it whilst my life remains. For who with lenient words can sooth my soul? What now can sage advice? Forbear, forbear To comfort me. These griefs shall have no end; No; from my sorrows I will never cease, But with eternal wailings mourn my fate. Chorus I speak through pure benevolence of heart, As a fond mother anxious for her child, Let not thy ills give birth to other ills. Electra Have then my ills a bound? Say, can the heart Feel a just sense of virtue, and forget A murder'd parent? Nature at the thought Is shock'd. From them no honour would I have; Nor, were I wedded to some worthy man, Would I live with him hushing all my griefs To peace, and checking their shrill-sounding flight, My father so disgracing. If the dead, As earth, and nothing more, neglected lies, And if no vengeance waits their crimes, farewell To shame, farewell to piety 'mongst men. Chorus Our duty, by our zeal for thee enforced, Induced us hither: if our friendly words Offend thy sense of honour, we desist; Thine be the conquest, and to follow, ours, Electra I am ashamed, my friends, if deem'd by you Indulging an excess of grief and tears; But they are wrung from me by bitter force; Electra Forgive me then. How can a woman, sprung Chrysothemis From noble blood, who sees her father's wrongs, Not mourn as I do, who each day, each night, Behold those wrongs increasing with fresh force? My mother, she who bore me, is the first In all despiteful treatment. Then I live In mine own house with those, whose impious hands Murder'd my father; these I feel my lords, And at their pleasure I receive, or want. Electra Think then what grief-embitter'd days I pass, Chrysothemis When seated on my father's throne I see Aegisthus see him in my father's robes Array'd, and pouring to the household gods Libations on the spot where his curs'd hand Shed the king's blood. And (oh that blackest stain !) I see the murderer in my father's bed With my abandon'd mother, if the name Of mother be her due, who shares this bed With him, unblushing with this man of blood Cohabits, and no vengeful Fury fears; But, as exulting in her horrid deeds, Oft as the month leads round the welcome day In which my father by her wiles she slew, She forms the festal dance, and to the gods, As guardians of her house, the victims slays. Chorus and weep, and waste away At a vile feast, that bears my father's name, In secret mourning, for I dare not pour My tears to sooth the anguish of my soul; For soon this woman, to her noble name A foul disgrace, calls out, and with harsh words Reviles me, "Wretch, detested by the gods, "To thee alone then did thy father die? "Dost none but thou lament him? Get thee hence, "And perish: never may th' infernal gods "Soften the sorrows which now rend thy heart!" Thus she reviles me; but if one she hears Speak of Orestes as returning, wild Chrysothemis With rage she comes, and thunders in my ears, "Thou art the cause of this; this is thy work; "By thee Orestes from my hand was snatch'd, "By thee in secret hence convey'd: but know "Thou shalt be punish'd as thy deeds deserve." Then to her savage menace adding flames Comes her illustrious husband, that disgrace To manhood, who his coward battles fights, Polluted monster, with a woman leagued. Whilst expectation always prompts my hopes That, arm'd with vengeance to repress these ills, Orestes will return, I pine with grief. Still he delays to act; and this delay Sinks all my present, and my future hopes. In such a state, my friends, the human mind But ill preserves a calm well-temper'd frame, And holy reverence; but, oppress'd with ills, By sad constraint turns all its thoughts to ill. Chorus But tell us, is Ægisthus, while we hoid This converse, near, or distant from this place? Electra Far distant in the country: were he near, Think not I thus might walk before the gates. Chorus If it be so, more freely may we hold Discourse, and unrestrain'd inquiry make. Electra What thy mind prompts thee, ask, from him secure. Chorus First of thy brother then it is my wish To know. Returns he, or delays he still? Electra Oft hath he promised; nothing he performs. Chorus In arduous actions men must oft delay. Electra But him without delay I fondly saved. Chorus But of his noble nature be assured; This will impel him to protect his friends. Electra Of this my soul hath ever been assured; Else in this state I had not lived so long.!! Chorus Speak now no more; for from the gates I see Chrysothemis advance, thy sister sprung From the same parents: in her hands she bears Sepulchral offerings, honours to the dead. CHRY. Why, O my sister, is thy voice thus raised Before the portal? Will no length of time Teach thee no more to feed thy feeble rage With thoughts as vain? I feel these present ills, And, if I know myself, had I the pow'r, Would show my thoughts: but while the storm is high, I deem it prudent to let down my sails, Nor dream of mighty deeds, while void of force I cannot hurt. Thus would I thou shou'dst act. Yet what I say perhaps hath not such strength Of reason as thy firmer conduct shows; But, as becomes my birth if I would live, The potent must in all things be obey'd. Electra How shameful this, descended as thou art From such a father, to forget his worth, And court thy mother's favour! For by her All thy monitions to me were enjoin'd, Her teaching, not the dictates of thy heart. What should I think? Thy nature must be base; Or, if not base, no memory of thy friends Dost thou retain. Thou said'st, hadst thou the pow'r, Chrysothemis Thy hate thou soon wou'dst show them: yet with me, On vengeance for my father always bent, Thou wilt not act, but rather wish to check My purpose. Is not this to add to ills Base cowardice? But tell me, or learn thou From me, what good should I obtain, my griefs Should I command to cease? Do I not live? But ill, I know; yet I am satisfied. I grieve their hearts in paying to the dead. Theseus if the dead have yet a sense Of honours. Thou dost hate them: but thy hate Is in words only; thou canst bear to live Amidst thy father's murderers. But my soul Would never bend, would never yield to them, No, should they bring me all those gorgeous gifts With which thou now art deck'd. To thee be placed A table richly spread, with dishes piled; But let my homely fare be only such As nature loaths not. I have not a wish To gain thy honours; nor indeed wou'dst thou, Did reason rule thee. Now thou might'st he call'd The daughter of a father first in fame; Be call'd thy mother's: so shalt thou appear, To all that judge aright, of nature base, False to thy murder'd father, and his friends. Chorus Now, by the gods, let nothing pass in wrath. Much mutual good your reasonings might produce, Wert thou to hers attentive, she to thine. CHRY. I have been long accustom'd to such words From her, my friends; and never had I touch'd This tender point, but that some dreadful ill Advances on her, which will check her griefs. Electra What dreadful ill is this? If more severe Than these, thy counsel I no more oppose. CHRY. Far as I know it I will tell thee all. They purpose, if thou cease not thy loud griefs, Chrysothemis To send thee where no more thou shalt behold The sun's bright radiance, in some cheerless vault To live, far distant, there to chant thy woes. Reflect; nor henceforth blame me when these ills Fall heavy on thee: this is wisdom's hour. Electra Thus will they treat me? Is their purpose fix'd?.. CHRY. Soon as Ægisthus shall return. And soon May he for this return. What dreadful wish Hast thou thus rashly form'd? That he may come, If thus he thinks to act. That thou may'st feel Chrysothemis Their vengeance! What thy meaning? Far from you That I may fly. And hast thou for thy life No care, no thought? Mine is a glorious life, Exciting admiration! Wou'dst thou take Calm prudence for thy guide, it might be such. Electra CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. Teach me not baseness to my friends. I teach No baseness, but submission to the great, Who hold the sovereign pow'r. Cringe to them thou; I scorn to cringe. Well were it not to fall Through wayward wilfulness. If I must fall, My father's death avenging let me fall. CHRY. Of us our father, well am I assured, Requires not this. Chrysothemis Such words the base alone Can e'er applaud. Will no persuasions move Thy heart to yield assent? None: from my heart Far be such weakness. Hence then will I go, And execute my charge. What charge? To whom Bear'st thou those offerings? By my mother sent She most abhorr'd! To pour libations at my father's tomb. Electra CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. What say'st thou? Sent to him whom, when he lived, And with her own hand slew, So wou'dst thou say. Persuaded by her friends? Chrysothemis Who thus advised her ? She was moved, I think, By dreadful visions, terrors of the night. Electra CHRY. Gods of my fathers, give us now your aid ! Chrysothemis CHRY. What from these terrors animates thy hope ? Electra Tell me the vision, thou shalt know my hopes. Chrysothemis CHRY. I know not all; but little can I speak. Electra Tell me that little: oft imperfect words Sink mortals low, or raise their spirits high. Chorus This is the voice of rumour, that she saw Thine and my father, to the light return'd, Once more her husband; in the earth he fix'd The sceptre of his ancestors, which once He bore, but now Ægisthus; from its top Sprouted a vigorous branch, and spread its shade Wide o'er Mycenæ and its ample realms... This from one present, when she told her dream To the bright Sun, I heard. No more than this I know, but that she sent me to the tomb Struck with this fear. Now by our country's gods I pray thee, be persuaded; do not rush、 On ruin through perverseness: shou'dst thou now Reject me, thou wilt seek me in thy ills. Electra But nothing, my loved sister, of these gifts Affix thou to the tomb; it is not meet, It is not holy, that such offerings, sent By this malignant woman, should be placed; Or such libations to our father's shade Be pour'd: no: give them to the winds, or dig Deep in the covering earth, and hide them there; Chrysothemis That nothing of them where our father rests May ever come, but lie a precious store For her when dead, and in the realms below.. For were not she, of all her sex, most lost lo To shame, this hateful globlet to the manort I Her own hands murder'd never had she crownd. For canst thou think the dead within his tomb, His indignation soften'd, will, receiver These offerings from the hand by which he died Dishonour'd, mangled with relentless hate,( Amidst th' ablutions all the stains of bloodT Wiped on his head And canst thou think these things Will make atonement for the murderous deed? It may not be; then think of them no more. But cut thou off thy fair and crisped, curls, And from my wretched head (small gift indeed, But all I have to give) these squalid locks; Lo With them present my zone, not richly wrought With bright embroidery: bow before the tomb, And pour thy prayers that from beneath the earth Propitious he would come, against our foes A strong protector; that with potent hand His son, Orestes, may return, and live, And trample those, that hate him, in the dust : Then will we crown his tomb with richer gifts Than now we can present. These things I think, Yes, I will think he makes these things his care, And therefore with these dreams appals her soul. Do thou, my sister, in this hope perform Theseus for my sake, for thine own, for his, Dearest of all that breath'd this vital air, Our father, laid in the unsparing tomb. Chorus This from a pious heart the virgin speaks : Chrysothemis Our love exhorts thee discharge the trust. CHRY. Yes, I will do it: for when justice bids, Reason disputes not, but makes haste to act. But by the gods, my friends, whilst I attempt Theseus STRO: ANTIS. amidst you well the secret guard; For should my mother know it, much I fear I should have cause the daring deed to mourn. If wisdom with one prescient ray Illumes the darkness of my soul, The vengeful Fury speeds her way; Before her, baleful omens scowl; I hear the flaping of their wings; The force of justice in her hands she brings. The dreadful visions of the night I hear: They breathe sweet music to my ear; My courage kindles at thinspiring sound. Thy father rouses in the realms below;" Ne'er will the king of Greece forget his wound, Ne'er the old Axe of brass, that struck th' insidious blow.. She comes, with all her hundred hands, Her hundred feet, the furious pow'r, No more in dreadful ambush stands; She comes, she knows her torturing hour; With feet of brass I hear her tread; She marks th' unholy, blood-polluted bed: Vengeful 'gainst those th' accursed attempt who dared, And those the horrid deed who shared, She sends these boding signs, nor sends in vain. If aught of truth terrific dreams disclose, If aught the oracle's prophetic strain, This vision of the night our happier state foreshows. How black with miseries to this land, O Pelops, was thy fatal course, When jealous Pisa's dangerous strand... Saw thy swift car's victorious force! For since by rage, untaught to spare, The hapless Myrtilus was slain, Hurl'd headlong from the golden car, And plunged into the roaring main, Strife in this house delights to dwell, And Murder shrieks with hideous yell. Clytemnestra ELECTRA, CHORUS....CHORUS. EPOD. CLYTEMNESTRA, ELECTRA, CHORUS. At large then thou art ranging, I perceive, Aegisthus who within these gates Always restrain'd thee, that thou might'st not shame Thy friends: now free from his control, to me Thou show'st no reverence; but thy froward tongue Oft speaks of me as haughty, and unjust In my commands, and insolent to thee, And thine. My nature knows not insolence: Nor speak I harshly to thee, but provoked By thy repeated harshness, and reproach, That by my hand thy father died. (Thy plea This only made) By me thy father died; I know it well, nor shall deny the deed; For justice struck the blow, nor I alone; And thee, if wisdom ruled thee, it behoved To aid me: for thy father, thus bewail'd, Alone of all the Grecians steel'd his heart To sacrifice thy sister to the gods: He never felt, like me, a mother's throes. I urge not that: but tell me for what cause Or for whose sake he bade this victim bleed. Say'st thou for Greece? No right had Greece to slay My child. Or was it for his brother’s sake? He slew my daughter: should not I repay/ Such deeds with just revenge? Had he no child? Had he not two? And these with juster right Had been devoted, as of parents born Whose cause avenging Greece embark'd for Troy. Or had th' infernal god more keen desire To gorge him with my children, than with hers? Or was this barbarous father's love grown cool To children born of me, but warm to those Born to his brother? Was not this the part Of an unfeeling father, to all sense 1. Of goodness lost? I think so, though I speak What to thy thoughts is adverse; so my child That died would speak, could she her voice regain. Hence for this deed no sorrow, no remorse Hath ever touch'd my heart. To thee perchance I seem to judge amiss: but weigh things well, Let justice hold the beam, then blame thy friends. Electra Thou wilt not say this harshness was provoked Now by my harsh reproach. But, grant me leave, Of my dead father, and my sister's death, As truth and reason prompt me, I will speak. Clytemnestra Thou hast my leave: and hadst thou always thus Address'd me, nothing harsh had been replied. Electra Then I will speak. My father by thy hand Was slain: thou freely dost avow the deed. And can there be a deed of blacker stain, E'en though he justly died? But I will say That not with justice didst thou strike the blow. No: the persuasions of that wicked man, Thy base compeer in guilt, allured thee. Ask The huntress queen Diana, why so long At Aulis vengeful she restrain'd the winds; Or I will tell thee; her thou may'st not ask! My father, sporting in her sacred grove, Once roused a dappled Hart, that bore aloft. His branching horns; and glorying in the prize Utter'd some vaunting words: at these incensed The daughter of Latona in that port Detain'd the fleet of Greece, that for her Hart, A recompense my father might present... His daughter: to the goddess thus she fell A victim; else the fleet had been detain'd Moor'd in that bay, and not a gale had 'swell'd Their sails for Troy, or to the ports of Greece. For this, reluctant and by sad constraint, He sacrificed his daughter, just to Greece, Not for his brother's sake. But (to allow Thy plea) to grace the Spartan had his wille Been to the deed assenting, for that cause Behoved it thee to slay him? By what fight? Take heed thou givest not sanction to a law 'Mongst mortals, which with vengeance will recoil On thine own head. If blood must be repaid With blood, if justice doth her office, thou: A The first must die. Take heed, nor urge a plea Of no avail. But tell me, if thy will Assents to tell me, why dost thou persist In actions most disgraceful to thy fame? Why with a blood-stain'd murderer share thy couch, Thy vile associate in my father's death? How canst thou bear him children, and expose .TYD As outcasts those, who from an hallow'd bed Sprung hallow'd? How can I approve these things? Or wilt thou say that for thy daughter's death/ These deeds are done to satiate thy revenge? Shame on thee if thou say'st so; for to wedi An hostile ruffian for a daughter's sake, d Throws a foul stain on honour. But thy soul Rejects monition: ever on thy tongue Is this complaint, that we with rudé reproach({ Insult our mother: Am I then thy child? Rather thy slave, and lead a servile life, fina Ever beneath the yoke of ills oppress'd TI By thee and thy compeer. Thy other child, The poor Orestes, scarce escaped thy handjofT TVD With misery, exiled from his country, lives Oft dost thou taunt me that I train the Youth To vengeance on thee: be thou well assured This I had done, had I the pow'r. Now go, Proclaim me to the world as base of soul, O As insolent of tongue, as lost to shamed wo If in these arts I am expert, they showlon is That nor thy nature I disgrace, nor thee. Chorus OFIT I see she burns with anger: whether justas That anger, no regard, I see, is paid. Clytemnestra And what regard from me to her is due, Who with such rude revilings dares insult And at that age, her mother? What base deed Would she not dare unblushing to attempt? Electra At what hath pass'd, believe me, I now blush. Whate'er thy thought, I am not now to learn That nor my age, nor me these things become: But thy unkindness, and thy deeds, by force Constrain me. By the base base deeds are taught. Clytemnestra Unblushing insolence! Do I, my words, My deeds, give birth to thy intemperate speech? Electra It is thy speech, not mine; for thine the deed; And deeds will always find according speech. Clytemnestra Now by Diana, when Ægisthus comes, This arrogance unpunish'd shall not pass. Electra I had thy leave to speak; yet see, with rage Thou art inflamed: thy passion will not hear. Clytemnestra Because thou hadst my leave to speak thy thoughts, Wilt thou disturb me with ill-omen'd words, Nor suffer my oblations to the gods? Electra I suffer, I encourage, I approve;:! Present thy offerings; blame my voice no more; No word the holy silence shall disturb. Clytemnestra Thou, my attendant, the oblations bring Of the earth's various fruits, that I may pour My pray'rs to royal Phoebus, from my soul To chase the terrors that appal me now. O thou, who hold'st thy guardian station here, Now, Phoebus, hear the whispers of my voice: I am not 'mongst my friends; nor to the light, While she is near, behoves me all unfold. By envy moved her ever-clamorous tongue Through all the city wild reports would spread. Hear me e'en thus; thus low must be my voice. The nightly visions of this doubtful dream, Attendant If they portend me good, Lycæan king, Bring thou to good effect: if ill, avert That ill from me, and turn it on my foes! From this high state if treacherous malice works To sink me, crush, oh crush the close design, Protect me always in this life of bliss, To sway the sceptre, and to rule the house Of the Atridæ, happy in those friends Whose pleasing converse daily I enjoy, And in those children, who ne'er grieve my heart With wayward clamours and malignant hate. Hear me, Lycæan Phœbus, favouring hear, Grant to us all, as we implore thy grace: All other things, though silence chains my tongue, Thou, as a god, my soul confides, must know: Nought from the sons of Jove can be conceal'd. Chorus ATTENDANT, CLYTEMNESTRA, ELECTRA, From you, ye female Argives, may I learn, Is this the mansion of Mycenæ's king? Chorus Stranger, it is: thou hast conjectured well. Attendant And this, if not amiss I judge, his queen : For in her port are dignity and grace. Chorus Well hast thou mark'd our sovereign: this is she. Attendant Hail queen. I bring thee grateful tidings, sent By one to thee and to Ægisthus dear. Clytemnestra I welcome thy address. But say by whom, Bearing this friendly message, thou art sent. From Phanoteus of Phocis, mighty queen : Important are the tidings which he sends. Clytemnestra What are they, stranger? Tell me: from a friend Nothing but friendly tidings wilt thou bring. To speak in brief, Orestes is no more. Attendant FLEC. O wretched me! This day I am undone. Clytemnestra What say'st thou, stranger, what? Regard not her. Attendant Again I say Orestes is no more. Electra Then I am nothing; I too am no more. Clytemnestra Attend thou to thine own concerns. To me Attendant Speak truly, stranger; tell me how he died. And therefore was I sent: hear then the whole. The glorious contest of the Grecian games Led him to Delphi: when the herald's voice Loudly proclaim'd the first, the rapid race, He enter'd with a splendor that from all Drew wonder and applause: that graceful form Deceived not expectation; he first reach'd The goal, and bore the honour'd prize away. But, of his many deeds to speak in brief, In skill and strength one equal I ne'er saw. Know then at once 'midst the heroic games In the five contests, as by law ordain'd, To him the praise of conquest was assign'd, By the presiding umpires' voice announced. Applauding Greece the happy victor hail'd, Call'd him an Argive, sounding loud his name, Orestes son of Agamemnon once The leader of th' illustrious host of Greece. Such was this day: but when some god decrees His doom, not e'en the mighty can escape. The next day's contest was the rapid course Of rolling chariots. With the orient sun Ardent 'midst many rivals he advanced; One an Achæan, one from Sparta, two From Libya, skill'd to rule the harness'd car: With these Orestes, his Thessalian mares Restraining: From Ætolia came a youth, His coursers colour'd like the burnish'd gold: Nor was Magnesia wanting to the course: Proud of his snow white steeds an Ænian came, One came from Athens built by hands divine; The list of heroes a Bœotian closed. Now standing where th' appointed umpires fix'd By lot their stations, and arranged the cars, Soon as the trumpet gave the signal, swift They bounded from the barrier, cheer'd their steeds, And tost their slacken'd reins; the rolling wheels With thunder shook the plain, and clouds of dust Rose to the skies. Together all were mix'd, Nor spared the lash, impatient each to pass The others axle and high-snorting steeds; For o'er their backs and summits of the wheels Their whitening foam they threw, and fiery breath. But ever, the last pillar as he reach'd, He drew his axle nigh, for on the right He gave his steed the reins, the nearer curb'd. Thus far the rapid cars roll'd on erect; Till now the Ænian's wild unmanaged steeds Broke from the ground, and at the seventh return Reckless their fronts with headstrong fury dash'd Against the Lybian chariot. From this shock Of one, wheel clash'd with shatter'd wheel, and fell; The wreck of cars fill'd all the Phocian plain. This saw th' Athenian, and, with skilful hand Wheeling aloof, his courser's speed restrain'd, And pass'd the wide confusion of the storm Roll'd in the middle course. His steeds behind Orestes the last, but high in hope Foremost to reach the goal: but when he saw One only left his rival for the prize, With sharper voice he cheer'd his flying mares, And follow'd close. Now side by side they drove, Now one, the other now, his coursers' heads- Push'd forward. All his other courses safe Now pass'd, firm in his car, its wheels erect, Orestes on the left relax'd the rein, And, as his courser round the pillar wheel'd, Dash'd unawares against it; in the nave The axle broke, and roll'd him o'er the car Entangled in the reins: his steeds uncheck'd Break forth at large, and bound amidst the course. But when th' assembly saw him from the car Hurl'd headlong, they with cries deplored the youth, His gallant actions, and his hapless fate, As low his head was trail'd along the ground. And now th' attendant train, his fiery steeds Scarce check'd, unbound him so deform'd with gore That not a friend could know the mangled corse. The funeral pile was raised, the body burn'd, And to some Phocians is the charge assign'd With speed to his paternal land to bear The poor cold ashes of the mighty man Closed in a narrow urn, that this dear land, Which gave him birth, may bear his honour'd tomb. Theseus lady, are the tidings which I bring, How mournful to relate! But to behold, As we beheld it-misery never show'd Chorus Scene of like horror to my aching eyes. Alas, alas! Our lord's imperial stem, Honour'd so long, is perish'd from its roots. Clytemnestra What an event is this! Almighty Jove, Shall I with joy receive it, or with grief? It brings advantage: yet it grieves my soul To gain the safety of my life by ills. Attendant Why at these tidings, lady, sink with grief? Clytemnestra Nature will touch a mother: though with wrongs Attendant Her heart be rent, she cannot hate her child. Unthank'd is he that brings unwelcome news. Clytemnestra Why should'st thou say unwelcome and unthank'd? It is not so: thou bring'st me certain proofs That he is dead, who, born of me, renounced My breasts, and all a mother's nurturing care, Became a fugitive, with strangers lived, And never saw me since he left this land, But charged his father's murder on my head, And menaced fierce revenge; so that by night Sleep never closed mine eyes, nor sweet repose By day was mine; but each imperious hour Appall'd me as a victim mark'd for death. But now, this day, my terrors are no more From her, or him; she was the greater pést, *** A fury nourish'd in my house, that wish'd To lap my blood: but from their threats secure I now shall pass my fearless life in peace. Electra A wretched me! I now have cause to mourn Thy wretched fate, Orestes, e'en in death Thus taunted by a mother. Is this well? Clytemnestra Not well with thee; but it is well with him.. Electra Hear, Nemesis, avenger of the dead! Clytemnestra She heard whom she should hear, and well decreed. Electra Triumph, insult; for prosperous is thy state. Clytemnestra That state wilt thou and thy Orestes sink? Electra No: we are sunk, and therefore sink not thee. Clytemnestra Great is thy merit, stranger, great thy meed, If thou hast check'd that ever-clamourous tongue. Attendant Now, if these things are well, I would depart. Clytemnestra Not so; that would reflect disgrace on me, And on the friend who sent thee. Go thou in, And leave her here with clamourous grief to wail The ruin which hath sunk her, and her friends. Electra ELECTRA, CHORUS. Did this unnatural mother show one sign Of grief or pity? Did she shed a tear? Or once lament a son by such a fate Cut off? She left us with a smile of joy. My dear Orestes, how hast thou destroy'd Thy poor unhappy sister by thy death! Thou hast torn from me the fond hope, which cheer'd Alone my sinking mind, that thou wouldst live, Live to avenge my father's death, and me, Unhappy me. Now whither shall I go? Now I am left alone; deprived of thee, And of my father, I must be again A slave to those whom most my soul abhors, The murderers of my father. Is this well? But never from this moment will I deign To dwell with them: no, stretch'd before this gate, Unfriended, I will pine my life away : And let them kill me, if this gives offence To those who here are lords: death were a grace, And life a grief: I have no wish to live. Chorus Where are the thunders of almighty Jove? Where the resplendent Sun? If they behold, And calmly in oblivion wrap these things? Chorus Why flow thy tears ? Electra weeps and laments aloud. Ah, mitigate thy grief! Electra Why wilt thou thus oppress me? From the dead, Already sunk to the infernal realms, To speak of hope turns sorrow to despair. Chorus Amphiaraus, I know the prophet-king, Was for the golden bracelets to those realms Sunk by a woman's falsehood; yet he reigns Beneath the earth, by all the shades revered. Chorus How mournful! for destructive was the deed. Electra And on her vengeance fell. Chorus It fell severe. Electra I know it, yes, I know it; 'midst his grief A warm avenger rose: but I have none, I now have none, for mine is snatch'd away. Chorus Unhappy virgin, mournful are thy ills. Electra I feel them all, an aggregated mass, Of various, endless, dreadful, hated griefs. Chorus We see thou hast abundant cause of grief. Electra With comfort then mislead my sense no more; Chrysothemis For from my brother, from th' illustrious son Electra Of my great father, I no more have hope. Chorus Death to all mortals is the common doom. Electra What, when the fiery-footed steeds contend For conquest, as that poor lamented Youth To perish, so entangled in the reins! Chorus This ill, which no presaging thought, no care- Electra No care indeed, if in a foreign land He lies neglected, to his mangled corse No mournful office by these hands perform'd, Without a tomb, without my streaming tears. Chrysothemis CHRY. Joy, my dear sister, wings my quick return, And with more speed than decency allows. I bring thee joy, and rest from all the ills Beneath whose anguish thou so long hast groan'd. Electra What hast thou found to mitigate my griefs, Chrysothemis Which never lenient medicine can heal? CHRY. Orestes is return'd; know that from me, As certain as thine eyes behold me here. Electra Thy own misfortunes sure have hurt thy sense, Or makest thou at thy ills, and mine, a mock? Chrysothemis CHRY. No, by the gods that guard our father's house, This is no mock: Orestes now is here. Electra And from what mortal hath thine ear received This vain report, which wins thy firm belief? Chrysothemis CHRY. Not from another, from myself I speak; I saw th' undoubted proofs, and thence believe.. Electra What proof, what confirmation hast thou seen, Which warms thy soul with this distemper'd heat? CHRY. Nay, by the gods, my sister, hear me; hear Chrysothemis The whole; and of my reason then pronounce. Electra Well, if in speaking thou hast pleasure, speak. CHRY. Then I will tell thee all that I beheld. My father's honour'd tomb as I approach'd, White on the summit of the mound I saw Large streams of milk late pour'd; the sepulchre, Wherein he lies inurn'd, with wreaths of flow'rs, Glowing in all their various dies, hung round. I saw, and wonder'd, and on each side turn'd Mine eyes, if any mortal might be nigh; But all was still: then nearer I approach'd The tomb, and on the pyre's remotest verge Saw crisped locks fresh severed from the head. Forthwith Orestes rush'd upon my thought, Such as my mind had imaged him of old; And these I deem'd the pledges of the Youth Dear to my heart: I took them in my hands, Chrysothemis And from my eyes gush'd tears; account not these Omens of ill, for they were tears of joy. And now, as then, my soul is well assured That from him only could these honours come : For to what mortal else, save thee or me, Could this accord? I did it not, I know, Nor thou; for from this house thou darest not move E'en to the gods. Nor doth my mother's soul Harbour such thoughts; nor could she do the deed Unnoticed. These sepulchral honours then Come from Orestes. Let despair no more Sink thee, my dearest sister: the same god O'er the same mortals doth not always rule; Stern was his pow'r; but now perchance this day On a firm base shall build our happier state. Electra Alas thy frenzy, how I pity thee! Chrysothemis CHRY. What, in my tidings dost thou not rejoice ? Electra Thou know'st not where thou art, nor what thou say'st. Chrysothemis CHRY. Not know what in bright day these eyes beheld ! Electra Oh, he is dead, my sister: all thy hopes In him are vanish'd: look to him no more. CHRY. Ah wretched me, who hath arrived to bring These mournful tidings ? One, who when he died. Was near, was present. Where is he? My heart Sinks with astonishment. Chrysothemis Within these gates, And to my mother no unwelcome guest. CHRY. Unhappy me! What mortal then could bring These solemn honours to our father's tomb? Electra CHRY. Some friend, as I conjecture, placed them there, Memorials of Orestes now no more. CHRY. O wretched state! Joy wing'd my steps to bear These tidings to thee: little did I know Chrysothemis What woes were gather'd round us: when I came, In their full force our former ills I find, Their horror heighten'd by more recent griefs. Electra This is our state. But wou'dst thou be advised By me, thou soon wilt free us from the ills Which now oppress us. Can I raise the dead Again to life? I mean not that; my mind Hath not such frenzy. Chrysothemis What wou'dst thou propose Within my pow'r to aid thee? Dare to act As I shall give thee charge. If it produce Aught of advantage, I shall not refuse My aid. Electra CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. But weigh this well: no great design Can without toil succeed. I weigh it well; And far as I have pow'r, will bear it all With thee. Now hear the purpose of my soul. The aid of friends (this truth is not unknown To thee) we have not: the infernal king Hath snatch'd them from us; and of these deprived We two are left alone. I, whilst I heard In youth's fresh vigour that our brother lived, Fed the fond hope that he would one day come With vengeance, for his father's murder, arm'd. He is no more: I now look up to thee, That, with thy sister join'd, thou wilt be bold, And kill the bloody author of this deed, Aegisthus CHRY. It behoves me now no more Aught to conceal from thee. Thus spiritless How long wilt thou remain? What honest hope Is left thee yet? To thee is left to mourn, Of all thy father's treasured wealth deprived; To thee is left to sigh, and to grow old So long neglected, unespoused, cut off From nuptial rites. And hast thou yet an hope These ever shall be thine ? With keener eye Forward Ægisthus looks, nor will permit One scion e'er from thee or me to rise, Which must be fatal to him. Then pursue My plan of vengeance: thine will be the praise Of pious reverence to thy father's shade, And to thy brother in the realms below. Nay more, thou wilt assert thy noble birth; Thou wast born free, and free thou wilt be call'd Thenceforth, and to thy bed some generous Youth, Worthy thy high-born race, will then aspire; For all with reverence on that virtue gaze, Which vindicates its honours. Seest thou not What glory thou wilt throw round thee and me, To me assenting? Who, when we appear, Argive or stranger, with this voice of praise Will not salute us? "See these sisters, friends, "These dared to vindicate their father's house; "These on his foes, though seated on his throne, "Of their own lives regardless, greatly led "The pow'rs of vengeance: these should all men love, "These all should reverence; on the festal days, "And in the full assemblies, these deserve "Honour from all; their noble virtue claim "Such meed." Thus all the world shall sound our praise, That while we live, and when we die, our fame Shall never fade. Then listen to my voice, My dearest sister; for thy father dare, • Dare for thy brother in this work engage; Redeem me from my ills, redeem thyself; And know thou this, that to the nobly born To live dishonour'd is the foulest stain. Chorus This is a theme of danger, and requires Prudence in her that speaks, and her that hears. CHRY. Greatly behoved her ere she spoke, my friends Chrysothemis (But that intemperate passion rules her mind) The guard of prudence: this she casts away. On what high hope depending art thou arm'd With this fierce daring, and dost call me forth To act beneath thy guidance? Seest thou not Thou art a woman, not a man, in strength Inferior to thy foes; and that each day A more exalted state their fortune finds, Whilst ours flows backwards, and to nothing sinks ? A foe so potent who shall dare attack, And without ruin from his force retreat? Take heed lest to our present ills we add A weight of heavier ills, should any hear This bold discourse; for little would avail, Little advantage us our glorious fame, If with disgrace we die; for not in death Is the most dreadful ill, but when we wish To die, and have not death within our pow'r. But I implore thee, ere thou crush us quite In hideous ruin, and o'er all our race Bring total desolation, check thy rage; And this bold converse I will always keep Secret and undivulged. Do thou restrain Thy daring spirit, and by time be taught, Weak as thou art, to sovereign pow'r to yield. Chorus Assent: no greater good can mortals gain Than sage discretion, and a prudent mind. Electra This is not unexpected: well I knew That thou with scorn wou'dst spurn what I proposed. Chrysothemis Then shall this hand alone perform the deed, Nor uneffected leave the glorious work. CHRY. Oh, had this spirit, when our father died Been thine! What deeds had then thy hand achieved! Electra Such was my nature then, but less confirm'd My spirit. May thy spirit through thy life Remain the same! These cold monitions show Thou wilt not give me aid. For ill designs May be repaid with ills. I must applaud Thy prudence, but abhor thy timid mind. CHRY. This I can bear to hear: and when to me Thou givest applause-- Never: applause from me Thou never shalt receive. That in its length Of course will time decide. Away; in thee I have no aid. Thou hast, were but thy hand Open to reason. To thy mother go, Tell her these things. I harbour not such hate Against thee. Yet thy mind can harbour thoughts To lead me to disgrace. Not to disgrace, But prudence. Must I follow what to thee Seems right? Chrysothemis When reason does her office, thou Shalt be my guide. What shame to speak so well, And act so ill! Thou clearly hast explain'd Thy own disease. What, seem I not to speak With justice? There are times when justice leads To ruin. By such laws I will not live. CHRY. But if thou dost these things, thou wilt applaud Me, and my prudence. These things I will do, Nothing appall'd by thee. Art thou resolved? And will no counsel move thee? To my soul Ill counsels are most hateful. Much averse Thy mind appears to all I say. By long Deliberate thought my purpose firm is fix'd. CHRY. I leave thee, since thy mind with scorn rejects My words, nor can I favour thy designs. ​ELEC. Go then; and wish it with what warmth thou may'st, I never will hold converse with thee more. Folly alone a thing so slight would court. CHRY. This may thy mind think wisdom; think so still: But 'midst thy sufferings thou wilt deem me wise. Chorus CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY, CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. CHRY. STRO. 1. ELECTRA, CHORUS. Mark you the birds that skim the air, O'er their full nests they wave the busy wing, By nature taught with pious care Food to their callow young to bring, To swell their plumes, and fit them for the skies. Is man in nature's lore thus wise? But, by the Thunderer's angry flame, By Themis on her heavenly throne sublime, Vengeance shall soon o'ertake the crime. O thou, who fill'st this world, wide Fame, Bear hence thy joyless voice of woe, And fill with accents dread the world below! ANTIS. 1. There 'midst the dead th' Atridæ tell That guilt triumphant in their house remains; That there the screaming Furies dwell; That Discord 'twixt the sisters reigns. Toss'd in the storms of fate, alone, betray'd, Electra sighs in vain for aid; Still for her father pours her tears, Still in wild, melancholy notes complains, Like Philomela's mournful strains: No rage of tyrant pow'r she fears : Content in death to close her eyes These furies might her vengeful hand surprise. Thus low sinks one of high-born race? Thou art not sunk; to rise be thine : The noble soul will ne'er disgrace The glories of its ancient line; Nor, when misfortune darkens round, Obscure and dead to fame be found. O'er thee, unhappy, generous maid, Hath misery cast her baleful shade; That shade thy choice, through high disdain, Of guilt and all her gorgeous train, Aspiring to enrich thy name With wisdom's and with virtue's fame. Oh may'st thou live in royal state, Triumphant o'er thy prostrate foes, As now beneath their hand thy fate Hath sunk thee in disgrace and woes! For I have seen thy generous soul Burst from misfortune's harsh control; Have seen thee with a fix'd disdain Advance against her threat'ning train, Bearing the high heroic thought By heav'n-descended justice taught, And all the firm mind's holy fires Which piety to Jove inspires. Orestes STRO. 2. ANTIS. 2. ORESTES, PYLADES, ELECTRA, CHORUS. Say, female Argives, are we well inform'd, Our steps unerring guided as we wish? Chorus What wou'dst thou ask? Why hither art thou come? Orestes I seek the mansion where Ægisthus dwells. Chorus Right are thy steps: no blame thy guide deserves. Orestes To those within which of you will announce Our presence, charged in common with affairs Of no unwelcome nature to your lords? Chorus She, as by birth nearest to them allied. Orestes Go, lady, let them be with speed inform'd That men from Phocis sent Ægisthus seek. Electra Unhappy me! Bring you undoubted proofs Of that report, which reach'd our ears before ? Orestes I know not: of Orestes is my charge To speak, by aged Strophius hither sent. Electra What, stranger? How am I oppress'd with fear! Orestes Of the dead youth the poor remains we bear, As thou may'st see, in this small vase enclosed. Electra Then I indeed am wretched: now my grief Is certain; it is brought before my eyes. Orestes If for the poor Orestes flow thy tears, Know that within this urn his body lies. Electra Now by the gods, O stranger, if this vase Contain Orestes, give it to my hands; That o'er his ashes as I pour my tears, Myself and all my race I may bewail. Orestes Whoe'er she be, entrust it to her hands; For not in hatred makes she this request, But as a friend, or one by blood allied. Electra Thou sad memorial, now the sole remains Of what was once Orestes, to my heart Most dear, with other hopes I sent thee hence, Not to receive thee thus; for in my hands I bear thee, nothing now; a splendid Youth, To glory born, I sent thee from this house. Oh hadst thou died, ere by these hands preserved, And, snatch'd from slaughter, to a foreign land I sent thee! Hadst thou died in that sad day, Some little portion of thy father's tomb Thou wou'dst have shared: but thou hast perish'd now Far from thy house, and from thy country far, A wandering exile, from thy sister far. Nor in the cleansing lavers did I bathe With these fond hands thy corse, nor, as became A sister, bear from the consuming flames The mournful burden. By a stranger's hands Theseus thou comest a little dust Closed in a little urn. Unhappy me, How vain is all my former nurturing care, All the sweet toil for thee employ'd, how lost! E'en for thy mother thou didst never show More fondness than for me; no menial hand Around thee was engaged; thou wast my charge, And thy fond tongue still lisp'd thy sister's name. All these endearments in one day are lost, With thee they died; thou, like a rushing storm Hast pass'd away, and with thee swept them all. My father is no more, I am no more, And death hath snatch'd thee hence; our foes exult; My mother, how unworthy of that name! Is wild with joy: yet secret message oft Aforetime hast thou sent, that thou wou'dst come Dreadful in vengeance; but unhappy fate, Thy fate and mine, hath check'd the great intent, And, for my loved Orestes, sent thee thus, Cold ashes, and an unavailing shade. Wretched remains! And what a wretch am I! Thus art thou come? How mournful! Woe is me! What ruin on thy sister hast thou brought! Yes, dear Orestes, ruin on my head Thy death hath brought. O miserable me! Receive me then within thy sheltering urn. Nothing to nothing; that henceforth with thee I in the realms beneath may ever dwell. For whilst thou here hadst life, with thee I shared One common fortune: now it is my wish In death to share thy tomb. The dead are free From all the various woes of mortal life. Chorus Thou from a mortal father drew'st thy birth; Thence be admonish'd: thy Orestes too Was mortal; let that thought assuage thy grief. Death is the debt of nature all must pay. Orestes Oh, I must speak; to my distracted thoughts I must give utterance; struggling in my breast These strong emotions will break forth in words. Electra What grief is thine? Why this impassion'd speech? Orestes See I in thee Electra's honour'd form? Electra I am Electra, and a very wretch. Orestes Ah, my heart bleeds to see thee thus. Electra For me Why, stranger, dost thou grieve ? Orestes Oh, how disgraced With foul and impious treatment! Electra Such my state, Such as by thee deplored. Orestes Of nuptial rites Deprived, and train'd to misery! Electra Thus on me Why dost thou gaze, and sigh? Orestes I till this hour Knew nothing of my ills. Electra How from my words Dost thou now know them? Orestes I behold thee now In many ills conspicuous. Electra Of my ills Thou seest but few. Orestes How more abhorr'd than these Can I behold? Electra With murderers that I dwell By sad constraint. Orestes Murderers of whom? What ill Doth this denote? Electra My father: and to them I live perforce a slave. Orestes By whom compell'd To this necessity? Electra A mother's name She bears; a mother's tenderness for me She never felt. Orestes How? Cruel is her hand? Or doth she feed thee 'mongst her slaves? Electra E'en thus She treats me, and with every barbarous ill. Orestes Has thou no friend to aid thee? From such wrongs None to protect thee? Electra None; I had a friend, His ashes thou hast brought. Orestes Thy wretched state With pity I behold. Electra Of all mankind Thou alone pityest me. Orestes For I alone Am come with sorrow for thy sufferings moved. Electra Art thou by blood allied ? Orestes If these were friends, I would speak freely. Electra Speak then: they are friends In whom thou may'st confide. Orestes Give back that urn And thou shalt know the whole. Electra Oh, by the gods, Deal not thus with me! Orestes Let my words prevail; No ill do they intend thee. Electra This dear pledge I pray thee take not from me. Orestes To thy pray'r I cannot yield. Electra How wretched shall I be, If, loved Orestes, of thy tomb deprived ! Orestes Speak words of happier omen; for no cause Hast thou to mourn. Electra Have I no cause to mourn A brother's death? Orestes Thy state it suits not thus To speak. Electra Am I unworthy of the dead? Orestes Of none art thou unworthy: but to thee This now is no concern. Electra Not though I bear His ashes in this urn! Orestes That was a tale Framed to deceive. Orestes lies not there. Electra Where then is my unhappy brother's tomb ? Orestes It is not: for the living hath no tomb. Electra Young man, what say'st thou? Orestes Nothing false I speak. Electra Doth he then live? Orestes If here I stand alive. Electra Art thou Orestes ? Orestes Mark this signet well; It was my father's: this will prove my truth. Electra O welcome day! Orestes Most welcome to us both. Electra Is it thy voice I hear? Art thou then come? And in these arms Orestes do I hold ? Orestes And henceforth ever may'st thou hold him thus! Electra Ye daughters of Mycenæ, my loved friends, You see Orestes but by fiction dead, And by that honest fiction thus preserved. Chorus We see him; in thy fortune we are blest, And tears of joy steal trickling from our eyes. Electra Thou gem, thou offspring of the dearest man, To me for ever dear, art thou then come- Thus hast thou found-at length art thou arrived--- And dost thou see whom thou hast wish'd to see! Orestes Behold me here: but check thy transports, wait In silence the event. Electra Why silent wait? Orestes Within these hostile gates lest any hear. Electra Now by Diana, chaste unconquer'd queen, My soul disdains to tremble at a rout Of helpless women here for ever throng'd. Orestes Yet women sometimes feel the martial flame, And greatly dare: of this thou hast strong proof. Electra Oh, thou hast touch'd upon a dreadful ill, For ever open to the light of heav'n, Inexpiable, monstrous, from the mind Never to be effaced, our mournful lot. Orestes I know it well; and when the proper time Shall warn me, will remember the foul deed. Electra All times to me are proper, and all times Warn me to speak what justly I may speak: Scarce is the liberty of speech now mine. Orestes Preserve that liberty, by knowing well This is no time to give thy speech free scope. Electra Hath silence then such merit, that my words Must yield to it, whilst thou art in my sight, Thus unexpected, thus beyond my hopes? Orestes Soon as the gods commanded me, I came. Electra This to my former pleasure gives new life : If by the mandate of the gods thou comest, That gives a presage of their heav'nly aid. Orestes I would not check thy pleasure; but I fear Its wild excess thy reason will o'erpow'r. Electra After such length of time since thou hast deign'd To make me happy with thy dear return, Do not, since thou hast found me thus oppress'd With many sorrows, do not take from me The heart-felt pleasure which thy presence gives. Orestes That pleasure none shall dare to take from thee. Electra Dost thou assent? Orestes How can I but assent? Electra O my loved friends, I hear that pleasing voice I could not hope to hear. But when I heard I should not think it as mere shadowy form, I would believe I saw the real man: Since on this dangerous task thou art return'dol Be the whole conduct thine. Had I been left Alone, I had not fail'd myself to save", With glory, or with glory to have died ​ORES. I wish thee to be silent, for I hear The steps of one advancing to these gates. Electra Strangers, go in: you bear what in the house:il! Old Man None will reject, nor will receive with joy. Attendant What madness this? Is life no more your care? Where is your prudence? Where your heedful thought Of danger? Know you not that you now stand Not on the verge, but in the midst of ills, The greatest ills? And had not I long watch'd Within this portal, your designs had found T An entrance ere yourselves; my cautious care() To this I have opposed. But now break off! // Your long discourse, and these wild cries of jby, And enter: the important moment calls For action: mischief lurks beneath delay.l Orestes How, when I enter, shall I find the state Of things within? Na botal Ioved modT Old Man A's thou cou'dst wish: not one) Is there who knows thee. Report me dead? Didst thou, as behoved; Attendant Though thou art living here, There thou art deem'd one of the shades below. Orestes Do they rejoice at this? What did they say? Attendant First do the deed, then thou shalt know. With them All now is well, e'en things that are not well. Electra Who, I conjure thee tell me, is this man? OR E. Dost thou not know- My mind retains no trace. Orestes Him, to whose hands assign'd thy prudent care In secret sent me to the Phocian realms? Electra Is this the man, when my lov'd father fell 'Mongst many faithless only faithful found? Orestes This is the man: but ask me now no more, Electra O thou dear light! Preserver of the house Attendant Of Agamemnon, sole preserver! How- Art thou come back? Art thou that faithful man, Who from a thousand threatening ills preserved My brother and myself? Blest be thy hands That bore him hence. How pleasant are the steps Of thy return! But when we late conversed, Why keep thyself unknown? Why not disclose The ancient friend? Why pierce my heart with words When thou hadst deeds to fill my soul with joy? Hail, O my father! For methinks I see My father: hail! Of all mankind this day Thee have I hated most, and most have loved. Cease thy inquiries. What remains untold The rolling course of many nights and days: Will show thee. Now, O princes, is the time To act; now Clytemnestra is alone; Now not a man is in the house; if now You make delay, with others wiser far Than these, and more in number, you must fight, Orestes Not words, my Pylades, but deeds must now Take place: this instant let us enter, first With reverence bending to my father's gods, That in this portal have their hallow'd seats. Electra Royal Apollo, hear them, favouring hear; Me too, for oft before thee have I stood, Offering with pious hand whate'er was mine To offer, hear me. Now, Lycæan king, I bring thee all I have, my pray'rs, my vows, My adoration: in our great attempt Propitious give us aid, and show mankind The vengeance of the gods on impious deeds! Chorus STRO. ANTIS. See this Mars against his foes Breathing slaughter furious goes. Faithful to the scent of blood On him waits a ravening brood, Dogs of hell, with eager chase Train'd the murderer's steps to trace: On they rush with horrid joy, Keen, and certain to destroy. Did not this my soul presage? Slumbers now his vengeful rage? See him prompt to aid the dead, Range these courts with secret tread. O'er each room his eyes are roll'd, With his father's treasures stor'd. Fierce he grasps his keen-edged sword. Hermes, brooking no delay, Leads him on the destin'd way; And the great avenger shrouds, Guileful in a veil of clouds. Electra Scenes of royal pomp, of old ELECTRA, CHORUS. My dearest friends, they now are in the act, E'en now: in silence then await 'th' event.. Chorus How! Tell us all. What are they doing now? Electra A cauldron for the burial she prepares, And they stand nigh. Chorus Why hither art thou come? Electra To watch: that should Ægisthus chance to come, He may not enter ere they are aware. Clytemnestra O miserable me! Beneath this roof Have I no friends? Are none but murderers here? Electra [within. One cries within. Hark!! Hear you not my friends ? Chorus I heard; and shuddering horror chills my blood. Clytemnestra Where art thou, O Ægisthus? Wretched me! [within. Electra Again that piercing cry! Clytemnestra My son, my son Have pity on thy mother! Electra But from thee He found no pity, none his father found. Chorus Unhappy realm! Unhappy race! Now fate Day after day destroys thee, quite destroys. Clytemnestra [within. Oh! I am wounded. Electra [within. If thou canst, repeat That stroke. Clytemnestra A wretched me, another wound! Electra Oh that Ægisthus had like cause to groan! Chorus The curse now hastes to be fulfill'd: they live, Who lie beneath the earth; and streams of blood The dead, from those who shed their blood, exact. Electra [within. ORESTES, PYLADES, ELECTRA, CHORUS. See, they are here, their hands distain'd with blood From the first victim of their fury pour'd. I need not ask, Orestes, what is done. Orestes All is well done within these gates, if well The Oracle commanded. She is dead, The wretched woman. Henceforth fear no more Disgraceful insults from thy mother's pride. Chorus Forbear. Ægisthus plainly I perceive. Electra Go back, with speed go back. Orestes Comes he upon us? Electra See you this man? He will soon be here; Rejoicing from the suburbs he returns. Chorus Retire within the portal: as beforelia o') You well condueted that attempt, so now Orestes Fear not: we will effect it to thy wish. Electra Nay, linger not a moment.m Orestes I am gone. Electra ELECTRA, CHORUS What here th' occasion calls for, be my care. This man then It were well to sooth his ear With a few gentle words, that he may rush Without a thought on their avenging swords. Aegisthus ÆGISTHUS, ELECTRA, CHORUS. Where are these Phocian strangers, who, I hear, Have brought the tidings that amidst the wreck Of clashing cars Orestes breath'd his last? Which of you knows? Of thee I ask, of thee, Thee in times past of soul untamed: as thee It most imports, thou canst inform me best. Electra Too well I know: I were a stranger else To what concerns the dearest of my friends. AGIS. Where are the strangers? Tell me. What, spoke they of his death And welcome guests. Aegisthus Enter'd here, As certain? Electra What convinces more than words, They brought undoubted proof. Aegisthus May I behold That proof which carries certainty? Electra Thou may'st : That sight thy envy will not raise. Aegisthus Great joy Thou givest me now: not such hath been thy wont. Electra Go then: if this can give thee joy, rejoice. Aegisthus Be silent, and set wide the gates, that all Of Argos and Mycense may behold : That if a man of them had in his thoughts Cherish'd vain hopes, he now may view this corse, And bear my curb; nor, hardening in his pride, Draw on his head the terrors of my wrath. Electra I know my duty: for by time my mind Is taught obedience to the sovereign pow'rs. Aegisthus The gates are thrown open; the body of Clytemnestra lies covered. ORESTES, PYLADES, ÆGISTHUS, ELECTRA, O Jove this is a sight, which hath not fall'n But to my wish. If Vengeance waits my joy, I know not. From the corse remove the veil, That he my lamentations may receive, For nearly to my blood he was allied. Orestes Remove it thou: thy office this, not mine, To view, and kindly to address the dead. Aegisthus I will: thou dost advise me well. Go thou, Call Clytemnestra. Is she in the house ? Orestes Ay, she is near thee; seek her not elsewhere. Aegisthus Ah, what a sight is this! Or whom not know? Whom dost thou fear? Ah me, amidst the toils Of what insidious hunters am I fall'n! Orestes [removing the veil. Dost thou not yet perceive that with the dead, So deem'd by thee, long converse thou hast held? Aegisthus Ah me! too well I know it; and these words Can from none other but Orestes come. Orestes Excellent prophet! But thy skill before Deceived thee. Aegisthus I am lost, in ruin sunk : Yet hear me; let me speak; I will be brief. Electra No: hear him not, my brother; by the gods, Hear no protracted speech. What would a wretch Plunged in the midst of evils, and to death Devoted, profit by a short delay ? No; let him die this instant, and when dead Obtain such burial as his deeds deserve, Far from our sight: for all his former wrongs To me this vengeance only can atone. Orestes Enter the gates this instant; for not words Must now decide the contest, but thy life. Aegisthus Within these walls why lead me? If the deed Be just and noble, why in darkness done? Thy hand is ready, why not kill me here? Orestes Give not the law to me. Go; where thy hand Murder'd my father, there thy blood shall flow. i Aegisthus This is of strong necessity this house Must see the present and the future illsai Doom'd to the race of Pelops by the fatesdi. Orestes Ills doom'd to thee: prophetic is my voice. Aegisthus Thou canst not from thy father boast this skill Orestes No more replies; no more delays: away. Aegisthus Lead thou the way. Orestes Before me thou shalt godt Losl Aegisthus Hast thou a fear I should escape thy sword? Orestes To make death bitter to thee, as thou wouldst Thou shalt not die: now to command is mine) Thus by swift-rushing vengeance perish all, Who dare to violate the sacred laws. Less frequent: then would impious deeds be seen, Chorus O race of Atreus, scarce hast thou arrived!! Through many sufferings at thy ancient state Of liberty, by this bold deed achieved! THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY This book is under no circumstances to be taken from the Building