Chapter XI: Part II: Page (9)

_Orest._ Pray, uttering to the Gods no fruitless prayer, For good success in what is yet to come.

_Elect._ What profits now to me the Gods' good will?

_Orest._ Thou see'st those here whom most thou did'st desire.

_Elect._ Whom called I on, that thou hast knowledge of?

_Orest._ Right well I know how thou dost prize Orestes.

_Elect._ In what then find I now my prayers fulfilled? 210

_Orest._ Behold me! Seek no dearer friend than I!

_Elect._ Nay, stranger, dost thou weave a snare for me?

_Orest._ Then do I plot my schemes against myself.

_Elect._ Thou seekest to make merry with my grief.

_Orest._ With mine then also, if at all with thine.

_Elect._ Art thou indeed Orestes that I speak to?

_Orest._ Though thou see'st him, thou'rt slow to learn 'tis I; Yet when thou saw'st this lock of mourner's hair, And did'st the foot-prints track my feet had made, Agreeing with thine own, as brother's true, Then did'st thou deem in hope thou looked'st on me. 220 Fit then this lock where it was cut, and see; See too this woven robe, thine own hands' work, The shuttle's stroke, and forms of beasts[414] of chase.

[ELECTRA _starts, as if about to cry aloud for joy_

Restrain thyself, nor lose thy head for joy: Our nearest kin, I know, are foes to us.

_Elect._ [_embracing_ ORESTES] Thou whom thy father's house most loves, most prays for, Our one sole hope, bewept with many a tear, Of issue that shall work deliverance! Thine own might trusting, thou thy father's house Shall soon win back. O pleasant fourfold name! 230 I needs must speak to thee as father dear;[415] The love I owe my mother turns to thee, (She with full right to me is hateful now,) My sister's too, who ruthlessly was slain; And thou wast ever faithful brother found, And one whom I revered. May Might and Right, And sovran Zeus as third, my helpers be!

_Orest._ Zeus! Zeus! be Thou a witness of our troubles, See the lorn brood that calls an eagle sire, Eagle that perished in the coils and folds 240 Of a fell viper. Now on them bereaved Presses gaunt famine. Not as yet full-grown Are they to bring their father's booty home. Thus it is thine to see in me and her, (I mean Electra) children fatherless, Both suffering the same exile from our home.

_Elect._ And should'st Thou havoc make of brood of sire Who at thine altar greatly honoured Thee, Whence wilt Thou get a festive offering From hand as free? Nor, should'st Thou bring to nought The eagle's nestlings, would'st thou have at hand 250 A messenger to bear thy will to man In signs persuasive; nor when withered up This royal stock shall be, will it again Wait on thine altars at high festivals: Oh, bring it back, and then Thou too wilt raise From low estate a lofty house, which now Seems to have fallen, fallen utterly.

_Chor._ Ah, children! saviours of your father's house, Hush, hush, lest some one hear you, children dear, And for mere talking's sake report all this To those that rule. Ah, would I might behold them Lie dead 'midst oozing fir-pyre blazing high![416] 260

_Orest._ Nay, nay, I tell you, Loxias' oracle, In strength excelling, will not fail us now, That bade me on this enterprise to start, And with clear voice spake often, warning me Of chilling pain-throes at the fevered heart, Unless my father's murderers I should chase, Bidding me kill them in the self-same fashion, Stirred by the wrongs that pauperise my life, And said that I with many a mischief ill Should pay for that fault with mine own dear life. For making known to men the charms earth-born 270 *That soothe the wrathful powers,[417] he spake for us Of ills as follows, leprous sores that creep All o'er the flesh, and as with cruel jaws Eat out its ancient nature, and white hairs[418] On that foul ill to supervene: and still He spake of other onsets of the Erinnyes, As brought to issue from a father's blood; For the dark weapon of the Gods below Winged by our kindred that lie low in death, And beg for vengeance, yea, and madness too, And vague, dim fears at night disturb and haunt me, *Seeing full clearly, though I move my brow[419] 280 In the thick darkness ... and that then my frame, Thus tortured, should be driven from the city With brass-knobbed scourge: and that for such as I It was not given to share the wine-cup's taste, Nor votive stream in pure libation poured; And that my father's wrath invisible Would drive me from all altars, and that none Should take me in, or lodge with me; at last, That, loathed of all and friendless, I should die, A wretched mummy, all my strength consumed. Must I not trust such oracles as these? Yea, though I trust not, must the deed be done; 290 For many motives now in one converge,— The God's command, great sorrow for my father; My lack of fortune, this, too, urges me Never to leave our noble citizens, With noblest courage Troïa's conquerors, To be the subjects to two women thus; Yea, his soul is as woman's:[420] an' it be not, He soon shall know the issue.

_Chor._ Grant ye from Zeus, O mighty Destinies! That so our work may end As Justice wills, who takes our side at last; 300 Now for the tongue of bitter hate let tongue Of bitter hate be given. Loud and long The voice of Vengeance claiming now her debt; And for the murderous blow Let him who slew with murderous blow repay. “That the wrong-doer bear the wrong he did,” Thrice-ancient saying of a far-off time,[421] This speaketh as we speak.

STROPHE I

_Orest._ O father, sire ill-starred,
What deed or word could I
Waft from afar to thee,
Where thy couch holds thee now, 310
*To be a light with dark commensurate?
Alike, in either case,
The wail that tells their praise is welcome gift
To those Atreidæ, guardians of our house.

STROPHE II

_Chor._ My child, my child, the mighty jaws of fire[422]
Bind not the mood and spirit of the dead!
But e'en when that is past he shows his wrath.
When he that dies is wailed,
The murderer stands revealed: 320
The righteous cry for parents that begat,
To fullest utterance roused,
Searches the whole truth out.

ANTISTROPHE I

_Elect._ Hear then, O father, now
Our tearful griefs in turn;
From us thy children twain
The funeral wail ascends;
And we, as suppliants and as exiles too,
Find shelter at thy tomb.
What of all this is good, what void of ills? 330
Is not this now a woe invincible?

_Chor._ Yet, even yet, from evils such as these, God, if He will, may bring more pleasant strains: And for the dirge we utter by the tomb, A pæan in the royal house may raise Welcome to new-found friend.

STROPHE III

_Orest._ Had'st thou beneath the walls
Of Ilion, O my sire,
Been slain by Lykian foe,[423]
Pierced through and through with spear,
Leaving high fame at home, 340
And laying strong and sure
*Thy children's paths in life,
Then had'st thou had as thine
Far off across the sea
A mound of earth heaped high,
To all thy kith and kin endurable.

ANTISTROPHE II

_Chor._ Yea, and as friend with friends
That nobly died, he then
Had dwelt in high estate
A sovereign ruler, held
Of all in reverence,
High in their train who rule
Supreme in that dark world; 350
For he, too, while he lived,
As monarch ruled o'er those
Whose hands the sceptre held
That mortal men obey.[424]

ANTISTROPHE III

_Elect._ Not even 'neath the walls
Of Troïa, O my sire,
With those the spear hath slain,
Would I have had thee lie
By fair Scamandros' stream:
No, this my prayer shall be
That those who slew thee fall,
*By their own kin struck down, 360
That one might hear far off,
Untried by woes like this,
The fate that brings inevitable death.

_Chor._ Of blessings more than golden, O my child, Greater than greatest fortune, or the bliss Of those beyond the North[425] thou speakest now; For this is in thy grasp; But hold; e'en now this thud of double scourge[426] Finds its way on to him; Already these find helpers 'neath the earth, But of those rulers whom we loathe and hate Unholy are the hands: 370 And children gain the day.

STROPHE IV

_Elect._ Ah! this, like arrow, pierces through the ear!
O Zeus! O Zeus! who sendest from below
A woe of tardy doom
Upon the bold and subtle hands of men....
Nay, though they parents be,
Yet all shall be fulfilled.

STROPHE V

_Chor._ May it be mine to chant o'er funeral pyre *Cry well accordant with the pine-fed blaze,[427] When first the man is slain, And his wife perisheth! 380 Why should I hide what flutters round my heart? On my heart's prow a blast blows mightily, Keen wrath and loathing fierce.

ANTISTROPHE IV

_Orest._ And when shall Zeus, the orphan's guardian true,
Lay to his hand and smite the guilty heads?
So may our land learn faith!
Vengeance I claim from those who did the wrong. 390
Hear me, O Earth, and ye,
*Powers held in awe below!

_Chor._ Yea, the law saith that gory drops once shed Upon the ground for yet more blood should crave; *For lo! fell slaughter on Erinnys calls, To come from those that perished long ago, And on one sorrow other sorrow bring.

STROPHE VI

_Elect._ *Ah, ah, O Earth, and Lords of those below! Behold, ye mighty Curses of the slain, Behold the remnant of the Atreidæ's house Brought to extremest strait, 400 Bereaved of house and home! Whither, O Zeus, can any turn for help?

ANTISTROPHE V

_Chor._ Ah, my fond heart is quivering in dismay, *Hearing this loud lament most lamentable: Now have I little cheer, And blackened is my heart, *Hearing that speech; but then again when hope *On strength uplifts me, far it drives my grief, *Propitious seen at last.

ANTISTROPHE VI

_Orest._ What could we speak more fitly than the woes 410 We suffer, yea, and from a parent's hands? Well, she may fawn; our mood remains unsoothed; For like a wolf untamed, We from our mother take A wrathful soul that to no fawning yields.

STROPHE VII

_Chor._ *I strike an Arian stroke, and in the strain Of Kissian mourner skilled,[428] Ye might have seen the stretching forth of hands, With rendings of the hair, and random blows, In quick succession given, Dealt from above with arm at fullest length, And with the beating still my head is stunned, 420 Battered and full of woe.

_Elect._ O mother, hostile found, and daring all! With burial as of foe Thou had'st the heart a ruler to inter, His citizens not there, A spouse unwept, with no lamentings loud.

STROPHE VIII

_Orest._ Ah! thou hast told the whole full tale of shame;
Shall she not pay then for that outrage dire
Unto my father done,
So far as Gods prevail,
So far as my hands work?
May it be mine to smite her and then die! 430

ANTISTROPHE VII

_Chor._ Yea, he was maimed![429] (that thou the tale may'st know) And as she slaughtered, so she buried him, Seeking to work a doom For thy young life all unendurable. Now thou dost hear the woes Thy father suffered, stained with foulest shame.

ANTISTROPHE VIII

_Elect._ Thou tellest of my father's death, but I Stood afar off, contemned, Counted as nought, and like a cursèd hound Shut up within, I poured the tide of tears (More ready they than smiles) Uttering in secret wail of weeping full. 440 Hear thou these things, and write them in my mind.

_Chor._ Let the tale pierce thine ears, While thy soul onward moves with tranquil step: So much, thou know'st, stands thus; Seek thou with all desire to know the rest; 'Tis meet to enter now Within the lists with mind inflexible.

STROPHE IX

_Orest._ I bid thee, O my father, help thy friends.

_Elect._ Bitterly weeping, these my tears I add.

_Chor._ With full accord so cries our company.
Come then to light, and hear; 450
Be with us 'gainst our foes.

ANTISTROPHE IX

_Orest._ My Might their Might, my Right their
Right must meet.

_Elect._ *Ye Gods, give righteous issue in our cause.

_Chor._ Fear creeps upon me as I hear your prayers.
Long tarries destiny,
But comes to those who pray.

STROPHE X

_Semi-Chor. A._ Oh, woe that haunts the race, And harsh, shrill stroke of Atè's bloody scourge! Woes sad and hard to bear, 460 Calling for wailing loud, Ah, woe is me, a grief immedicable.

ANTISTROPHE X

_Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, but as cure for this, And healing salve,'tis yours with your own hands, With no help from without, *To press your suit of blood; So runs our hymn to those great Gods below.

_Chor._ Yea, hearing now, ye blest Ones 'neath the earth, This prayer, send ye your children timely help That worketh victory.

_Orest._ O sire, who in no kingly fashion died'st, 470 Hear thou my prayer; grant victory o'er this house.

_Elect._ I, father, ask this prayer, that I may work *Ægisthos' death, and then acquittal gain.

_Orest._ Yea, thus the banquets that men give the dead Would for thee too be held, but otherwise *Dishonoured wilt thou lie 'mid those that feast,[430] Robbed of thy country's rich burnt-offerings.

_Elect._ I too from out my father's house will bring Libations from mine own inheritance, As marriage offerings. Chief and first of all, Will I do honour to this sepulchre.

_Orest._ Set free my sire, O Earth, to watch the battle. 480

_Elect._ O Persephassa, goodly victory grant!

_Orest._ Remember, sire, the bath in which they slew thee!

_Elect._ *Remember thou the net they handselled so!

_Orest._ In fetters not of brass wast thou snared, father.

_Elect._ Yea, basely with that mantle they devised.

_Orest._ Art thou not roused by these reproaches, father?

_Elect._ Dost thou not lift thine head for those thou lov'st?

_Orest._ Or send thou Vengeance to assist thy friends; Or let them get like grasp of those thy foes, If thou, o'ercome, dost wish to conquer them. 490

_Elect._ And hear thou this last prayer of mine, my father, Seeing us thy nestlings sitting at thy tomb, Have mercy on thy boy and on thy girl; Nor blot thou out the seed of Pelopids: So thou, though thou hast died, art yet not dead; For children are the voices that preserve Man's memory when he dies: so bear the net The corks that float the flax-mesh from the deep. Hear thou: This is our wailing cry for thee, And thou, our prayer regarding, sav'st thyself. 500

_Chor._ Unblamed have ye your utterance lengthened out, Amends for that his tomb's unwept-for lot. But as to what remains, since thou'rt resolved To act, act now; make trial of thy Fate.

_Orest._ So shall it be. Yet 'tis not out of course To ask why she libations sent, why thus Too late she cares for ill she cannot cure? Yea, to a dead man heeding not 'twas sent, A sorry offering. Why, I fail to guess: The gifts are far too little for the fault; 510 For should a man pour all he has to pay For one small drop of blood, the toil were vain: So runs the saying. But if thou dost know, Tell this to me as wishing much to learn.

_Chor._ I know, my child, for I was by. Stirred on By dreams and wandering terrors of the night, That godless woman these libations sent.

_Orest._ And have ye learnt the dream, to tell it right?

_Chor._ As she doth say, she thought she bare a snake.

_Orest._ How ends the tale, and what its outcome then?

_Chor._ She nursed it, like a child, in swaddling clothes. 520

_Orest._ What food did that young monster crave for then?

_Chor._ She in her dream her bosom gave to it.

_Orest._ How 'scaped her breast by that dread beast unhurt?

_Chor._ Nay, with the milk it sucked out clots of blood.

_Orest._ Ah, not in vain comes this dream from her lord.

_Chor._ She, roused from sleep, cries out all terrified, And many torches that were quenched in gloom Blazed for our mistress' sake within the house. Then these libations for the dead she sends, Hoping they'll prove good medicine of ills. 530

_Orest._ Now to Earth here and my sire's tomb I pray They leave not this strange vision unfulfilled. So I expound it that it all coheres; For if, the self-same spot that I left leaving, *The snake was then wrapt in my swaddling clothes, And sucked the very breast that nourished me, And mixed the sweet milk with a clot of blood, And she in terror wailed the strange event, So must she, as that monster dread she nourished, Die cruel death: and I, thus serpentised, 540 Am here to slay her, as this dream portends; I take thee as my dream-interpreter.

_Chor._ So be it; but in all else guide thy friends; *Bid some do this, some that, some nought at all.

_Orest._ Simple my orders, that she [_pointing to_ ELECTRA] go within; And you, I charge you, hide these plans of mine, That they who slew a noble soul by guile, By guile may die and in the self-same snare Be caught, as Loxias gave his oracle, The king Apollo, seer that never lied: 550 For like a stranger in full harness clad Will I draw near with this man, Pylades, To the great gates, a stranger I, and he, Ally in arms. And then we both will speak Parnassian speech, and imitate the tone Of Phokian tongue. And should no porter there Give us good welcome, on the ground that now The house with ills is haunted, there we'll stay, So that a man who passeth by the house Will guess, and thus will speak, “Why drives Ægisthos The suppliant from his gate, if he's at home And knows it?” But if I should pass the threshold 560 Of the great gate, and find him seated there Upon my father's throne, or if he comes And meets me, face to face, and lifts his eyes, And drops them, then be sure, before he says, “Whence is this stranger?”—I will lay him dead, With my swift-footed brazen weapon pierced; And then Erinnys, stinted not in slaughter, Shall drink her third draught of unmingled blood.[431] Thou, then, [_to_ ELECTRA] watch well what passes in the house, 570 So that these things may dovetail close and well: And you [_to the Chorus_] I bid to keep a tongue discreet, Silent, if need be, or the right word speaking, And Him[432] [_pointing to the statue of Apollo_] I call to look upon me here, Since he has set me on this strife of swords.

[_Exeunt_ ORESTES, PYLADES, _and_ ELECTRA

STROPHE I

_Chor._ Many dread forms of evils terrible
Earth bears, and Ocean's bays
With monsters wild and fierce
*O'erflow, and through mid-air the meteor lights 580
Sweep by; and wingèd birds
And creeping things can tell the vehement rage
Of whirling storms of winds.

ANTISTROPHE I

But who man's temper overbold may tell,
Or daring passionate loves
Of women bold in heart,
Passions close bound with men's calamities?
Love that true love disowns,
That sways the weaker sex in brutes and men, 590
Usurps o'er wedlock's ties.

STROPHE II

Whoso is not bird-witted, let him think
What scheme she learnt to plan,
Of subtle craft that wrought its will by fire,
That wretched child of Thestios, who to slay
Her son did set a-blaze
The brand that glowed blood-red,
Which had its birth when first from out the womb
He came with infant's wail,
And spanned the measure of its life with his, 600
On to the destined day.[433]

ANTISTROPHE II

Another, too, must we with loathing name,
Skylla, with blood defiled.[434]
Who for the sake of foes a dear one slew,
Won by the gold-chased bracelets brought from Crete,
The gifts that Minos gave,
And knowing not the end,
Robbed Nisos of his lock of deathless life,
She with her dog-like heart 610
Surprising him deep-breathing in his sleep;
But Hermes comes on her.[435]

STROPHE III

And since I tell the tale of ruthless woes....[436]
Yet now 'tis not the time
*To tell of evil marriage which this house
Doth loathe and execrate,
And of a woman's schemes and stratagems
Against a warrior chief,
*Chief whom his people honoured as was meet,
I give my praise to hearth from hot broils free,
And praise that woman's mood
That dares no deed of ill.

ANTISTROPHE III

But of all crimes the Lemnian foremost stands[437] 620
*And the Earth mourns that woe
As worthy of all loathing. Yes, this guilt
One might have well compared
With Lemnian ills; and now that race is gone,
To lowest shame brought down
By the foul guilt the Gods abominate:
For no man honours what the Gods condemn,
Which instance of all these
Do I not rightly urge?[438]

STROPHE IV

And now the sword already at the heart, Sharp-pointed, strikes a blow that pierces through, While Vengeance guides the hand; 630 For lo! the lawlessness Of one who doth transgress all lawlessly The might and majesty of Zeus, lies not As trampled under foot.[439]

ANTISTROPHE IV

The anvil-block of Vengeance firm is set, And Fate, the swordsmith, hammers on the bronze Beforehand; and the child Is brought unto his home, And in due time the debt of guilt is paid By the dark-souled Erinnys, famed of old, For blood of former days.

ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _enter, disguised as Phokian travellers,
go to the door of the palace, and knock loudly_

_Orest._ What ho, boy! hear us knocking at the gate. 640 Who is within, boy? who, boy?—hear, again; A third time now I give my summons here, If good Ægisthos' house be hospitable.

[_A_ SLAVE _opens the door_

_Slave._ Hold, hold; I hear. What stranger comes, and whence?

_Orest._ Tell thou thy lords who over this house rule, To whom I come and tidings new report; And make good speed, for now the dusky car Of night comes on apace, and it is time For travellers in hospitable homes To cast their anchor; and let some one come From out the house who hath authority; 650 The lady, if so be one ruleth here, But, seemlier far, her lord; for then no shame In converse makes our words obscure and dim; But man with man gains courage to speak out, And makes his mission manifest as day.

_Enter_ CLYTÆMNESTRA

_Clytæm._ If ye need aught, O strangers, speak; for here Is all that's fitting for a house like ours; Warm baths,[440] and bed that giveth rest from toil, And presence of right honest faces too; If there be aught that needeth counsel more, That is men's business, and to them we'll tell it. 660

_Orest._ A Daulian traveller, from Phokis come, Am I, and as I went on business bound, My baggage with me, unto Argos, I (Just as I set forth,) met a man I knew not, Who knew not me, and he then, having asked My way and told me his, the Phokian Strophios (For so I learnt in talking) said to me, “Since thou dost go, my friend, for Argos bound, In any case, tell those who gave him birth, Remembering it right well, Orestes' death; See thou forget it not, and whether plans 670 Prevail to fetch him home, or bury him There where he is, a stranger evermore, Bear back the message as thy freight for us; For now the ribbed sides of an urn of bronze The ashes hide of one whom men have wept.” So much I heard and now have told; and if I speak to kin that have a right in him I know not, but his father sure should know it.

_Clytæm._ Ah, thou hast told how utterly our ruin Is now complete! O Curse of this our house, Full hard to wrestle with! How many things, 680 Though lying out of reach, thou aimest at, And with well-darted arrows from afar Dost bring them low! And now thou strippest me, Most wretched one, of all that most I loved. A lucky throw Orestes now was making, Getting his feet from out destruction's slough; But now the hope of high, exulting joy, *Which this house had as healer, he scores down As present in this fashion that we see.

_Orest._ I could have wished to come to prosperous hosts, As known and welcomed for my tidings good; For who to hosts is friendlier than a guest? 690 But 'twould have been as impious in my thoughts Not to complete this matter for my friends, By promise bound and pledged as guest to host.

_Clytæm._ Thou shalt not meet with less than thou deserv'st; Nor wilt thou be to this house less a friend; Another would have brought news all the same: But since 'tis time that strangers who have made A long day's journey find the things they need, Lead him [_to her Slave, pointing to_ ORESTES] to these our hospitable halls, And these his fellow-travellers and servants: 700 There let them meet with what befits our house. I bid thee act as one who gives account; And we unto the masters of our house Will tell this news, and with no lack of friends Deliberate of this calamity.[441]

[_Exeunt_ CLYTÆMNESTRA, ORESTES, PYLADES,
_and Attendants_

_Chor._ Come then, handmaids of the palace,
When shall we with full-pitched voices
Show our feeling for Orestes?
O earth revered! thou height revered, too,
Of the mound piled o'er the body
Of our navy's kingly captain, 710
Oh, hear us now; oh, come and help us;
For 'tis time for subtle Suasion[442]
To go with them to the conflict,
And that Hermes act as escort,
He who dwells in earth's deep darkness,
In the strife where swords work mischief.

_Enter_ KILISSA

_Chor._ The stranger seems about to work some ill; And here I see Orestes' nurse in tears. Where then, Kilissa, art thou bound, that thus Thou tread'st the palace-gates, and with thee comes Grief as a fellow-traveller unbidden? 720

_Kilis._ Our mistress bids me with all speed to call Ægisthos to the strangers, that he come And hear more clearly, as a man from man, This newly-brought report. Before her slaves, Under set eyes of melancholy cast, She hid her inner chuckle at the events That have been brought to pass—too well for her, But for this house and hearth most miserably,— As in the tale the strangers clearly told. He, when he hears and learns the story's gist, Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me! 730 How those old troubles, of all sorts made up, Most hard to bear, in Atreus' palace-halls Have made my heart full heavy in my breast! But never have I known a woe like this. For other ills I bore full patiently, But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge, Whom from his mother I received and nursed.... And then the shrill cries rousing me o' nights. And many and unprofitable toils For me who bore them. For one needs must rear The heedless infant like an animal, 740 (How can it else be?) as his humour serves. For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes, *It speaketh not, if either hunger comes, Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need; And children's stomach works its own content. And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes, And nurse and laundress did the self-same work. I then with these my double handicrafts, Brought up Orestes for his father dear; And now, woe's me! I learn that he is dead, 750 And go to fetch the man that mars this house: And gladly will he hear these words of mine.

_Chor._ And how equipped then doth she bid him come?

_Nurse._ 'How?' Speak again that I may better learn.

_Chor._ By spearmen followed, or himself alone?

_Nurse._ She bids him bring his guards with lances armed.

_Chor._ Nay, say not that to him thy lord doth hate.[443] But bid him 'come alone,' (that so he hear Without alarm,) 'full speed, with joyous mind,' Since 'secret speech with messengers goes best.' 760

_Nurse._ And art thou of good cheer at this my tale?

_Chor._ But what if Zeus will turn the tide of ill?

_Nurse._ How so? Orestes, our one hope is gone.

_Chor._ Not yet; a sorry seer might know thus much.

_Nurse._ What say'st thou? Know'st thou aught besides my tale?

_Chor._ Go tell thy message; do thine errand well: The Gods for what they care for, care enough.

_Nurse._ I then will go, complying with thy words: May all, by God's gift, end most happily!

STROPHE I

_Chor._ Now to my prayer, O Father of the Gods 770 Of high Olympos, Zeus, Grant that their fortune may be blest indeed *Who long to look on goodness prospering well, Yea, with full right and truth I speak the word—O Zeus, preserve thou him!

STROPHE II

Yea, Zeus, set him whom now the palace holds, Set him above his foes; For if thou raise him high, Then shall thou have, to thy heart's full content, Payment of twofold, threefold recompense.

ANTISTROPHE I

Know that the son of one who loved thee well 780 *Like colt of sire bereaved, *Is to the chariot of great evils yoked, *And set thy limit to his weary path. *Ah, would that one might see *His panting footsteps, as he treads his course, *Keeping due measure through this plain of ours!

STROPHE III

And ye within the gate,
Ye Gods, in purpose one,
Who dwell in shrines enriched
With all good things, come ye,
And now with vengeance fresh
Atone for murder foul
Of those that fell long since: 790
*And let that blood of old,
*When these are justly slain,
Breed no more in our house.

MESODE

O Thou[444] that dwellest in the cavern vast,
Adorned with goodly gifts,
Grant our lord's house to look up yet once more,
And that it now may glance,
In free and glorious guise
With loving kindly eyes,
From out its veil of gloom.
Let Maia's son[445] too give
His righteous help, and waft
Good end with prosperous gale.

ANTISTROPHE III

*And things that now are hid, 800
He, if he will, will bring
As to the daylight clear;
But when it pleases him
Dark, hidden words to speak,
As in thick night he bears
Black gloom before his face;[446]
Nor is he in the day
One whit more manifest.

STROPHE IV

*And then our treasured store,[447]
*The price as ransom paid
To free the house from ill,
A woman's gift on breath
Of favouring breeze onborne,
We then with clamorous cry,
To sound of cithern sweet,
Will in the city pour;
And if this prospers well,
*My gains, yea mine, 'twill swell, and Atè then
From those I love stands far. 810

ANTISTROPHE II

But thou, take courage, when the time is come For action, and cry out, Shouting thy father's name, When she shall cry aloud the name of “son,” And work thou out a woe that none will blame.

ANTISTROPHE IV

And have thou in thy breast
The heart that Perseus had,[448]
And for thy friends beneath,
And those on earth who dwell,
Go thou and work the deed
Acceptable to them, 820
Of bitter, wrathful mood,
And consummate within
*The loathly work of blood;
[And bidding Vengeance come as thine ally,]
Destroy the murderer.

_Enter_ ÆGISTHOS

_Ægis._ Not without summons came I, but by word Of courier fetched, and learn that travellers bring Their tale of tidings new, in no wise welcome. As for Orestes' death, with it to charge The house would be a burden dropping fear To one by that old bloodshed sorely stung.[449] How shall I count these things? As clear and true? Or are they vague reports of woman's fears, 830 That leap up high and die away to nought? What can'st thou say that will my mind inform?

_Chor._ We heard, 'tis true; but go thou in and ask Of these same strangers. Nought is found in words Of messengers like asking, man from man.

_Ægis._ I wish to see and probe the messenger, If he himself were present at the death, Or tells it hearing of a vague report: They shall not cheat a mind with eyes wide open.

[_Exit_

_Chor._ Zeus! Zeus! what words shall I 840
Now speak, whence start in prayer,
*Invoking help of Gods?
How with all wish for good
Shall I speak fitting words?
For now the sharp sword-points,
Red with the blood of man,
Will either work for aye
The utter overthrow
Of Agamemnon's house,
Or, kindling fire and torch
For freedom thus achieved,
Will he the sceptre wield
Of duly-ordered sway,
His father's pride and state: 850
Such is the contest he,
Orestes, godlike one,
Now wages all alone,
The one sole combatant,[450]
In place of him who fell,
Against those twain. May victory be his!

_Ægisth._ [_groaning within_] Ah! ah! Woe's me!

_Chor._ Hark! hark! How goes it now? What issue has been wrought within the house? Let us hold back while they the deed are doing, That we may seem as guiltless of these ills: For surely now the fight has reached its end.

_Enter_ Servant _from the chief door_

_Serv._ Alas! alas! my master perishes! 860 Alas! alas! a third time yet I call. Ægisthos is no more; but open now With all your speed, and loosen ye the bolts That bar the women's gates. A man's full strength Is needed; not indeed that that would help A man already slain.

[_Rushes to the gate of the woman's half of the
palace_

Ho there! I say: I speak to the deaf; to those that sleep I utter In vain my useless cries. And where is she? Where's Clytæmnestra? What doth she do now? Her neck upon the razor's edge doth seem To fall, down-stricken by a vengeance just. 870

_Enter_ CLYTÆMNESTRA _from the side door_

_Clytæm._ What means all this? What cry is this thou mak'st?

_Serv._ I say the dead are killing one who lives.

_Clytæm._ Ah, me! I see the drift of thy dark speech; By guile we perish, as of old we slew: Let some one hand at once axe strong to slay; Let's see if we are conquered or can conquer, For to that point of evil am I come.

_Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _from the other door_

_Orest._ 'Tis thou I seek: he there has had enough.

_Clytæm._ Ah me! my loved Ægisthos! Art thou dead?

_Orest._ Lov'st thou the man? Then in the self-same tomb 880 Shalt thou now lie, nor in his death desert him.

_Clytæm._ [_baring her bosom_] Hold, boy! Respect this breast of mine, my son,[451] Whence thou full oft, asleep, with toothless gums, Hast sucked the milk that sweetly fed thy life.

_Orest._ What shall I do, my Pylades? Shall I Through this respect forbear to slay my mother?

_Pyl._[452] Where, then, are Loxias' other oracles, The Pythian counsels, and the fast-sworn vows? Have all men hostile rather than the Gods.

_Orest._ My judgment goes with thine; thou speakest well: [_To_ CLYTÆMNESTRA] Follow: I mean to slay thee where he lies,890 For while he lived thou held'st him far above My father. Sleep thou with him in thy death, Since thou lov'st him, and whom thou should'st love hatest.

_Clytæm._ I reared thee, and would fain grow old with thee.

_Orest._ What! Thou live with me, who did'st slay my father?

_Clytæm._ Fate, O my son, must share the blame of that.

_Orest._ This fatal doom, then, it is Fate that sends.

_Clytæm._ Dost thou not fear a parent's curse, my son?

_Orest._ Thou, though my mother, did'st to ill chance cast me.

_Clytæm._ No outcast thou, so sent to house allied. 900

_Orest._ I was sold doubly, though of free sire born.

_Clytæm._ Where is the price, then, that I got for thee?

_Orest._ I shrink for shame from pressing that charge home.

_Clytæm._ Nay, tell thy father's wantonness as well.

_Orest._ Blame not the man who toils when thou'rt at ease.[453]

_Clytæm._ 'Tis hard, my son, for wives to miss their husband.

_Orest._ The husband's toil keeps her that sits at home.[453]

_Clytæm._ Thou seem'st, my son, about to slay thy mother.

_Orest._ It is not I that slay thee, but thyself.

_Clytæm._ Take heed, beware a mother's vengeful hounds.[454] 910

_Orest._ How, slighting this, shall I escape my father's?

_Clytæm._ I seem in life to wail as to a tomb.[455]

_Orest._ My father's fate ordains this doom for thee.

_Clytæm._ Ah me! the snake is here I bare and nursed.[456]

_Orest._ An o'er-true prophet was that dread dream-born; Thou slewest one thou never should'st have slain, Now suffer fate should never have been thine.

[_Exit_ ORESTES, _leading_ CLYTÆMNESTRA _into the
palace, and followed by_ PYLADES

_Chor._ E'en of these two I wail the twin mischance; But since long line of murder culminates In poor Orestes, this we yet accept, That he, our one light, fall not utterly. 920

STROPHE I

Late came due vengeance on the sons of Priam, Just forfeit of sore woe;— Late came there too to Agamemnon's house, Twin lions, twofold Death.[457] The exile who obeyed the Pythian hest Hath gained his full desire, Sped on his way by counsel from the Gods.

STROPHE II

Shout ye, loud shout for the escape from ills
Our master's house has seen,
And from the wasting of his ancient wealth
By that defilèd pair, 930
Ill fate intolerable.

ANTISTROPHE I

And so on one who loves the war of guile Revenge came subtle-souled; And in the strife of hands the child of Zeus In very deed gave help, (We mortals call her Vengeance, hitting well The meetest name for her,) Breathing destroying wrath against her foes.

STROPHE III

She, she it is whom Loxias summons now, 940 Who dwelleth in Parnassia's cavern vast, *Calling on her who still *Is guileful without guile, *Halting of foot and tarrying over-long: The will of Gods is strangely overruled; It may not help the vile;[458] 'Tis meet to adore the Power that rules in Heaven: At last we see the light.

ANTISTROPHE II

*Now is the bit that curbed the slaves ta'en off:[459]
Arise, arise, O house:
Too long, too long, all prostrate on the ground 950
Ye have been used to lie.
· · · · ·

ANTISTROPHE III

Quickly all-working Time will bring a change Across the threshold of the palace old, When from the altar-hearth It shall drive all the guilt, With cleansing rites that chase away our woes; And Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast, *Once more benign to see,[460] For new-come strangers settled in the house: At last we see the light.

_Enter_ ORESTES, PYLADES, _and followers from the palace. His
attendants bear the robe in which_ AGAMEMNON _had been murdered_

_Orest._ See ye this country's tyrant rulers twain, 960 My father's murderers, wasters of his house; Stately were they, seen sitting on their thrones, Friends too e'en now, to argue from their fate, Whose oaths are kept to every pledge they gave. Firmly they swore that they would slay my father, And die together. Well those oaths are kept: And ye who hear these ills, behold ye now Their foul device, as bonds for my poor father, Handcuffs, and fetters both his feet to bind. Come, stretch it out, and standing all around, 970 Show ye the snare that wrapt him o'er, that He May see, our Father,—not of mine I speak, But the great Sun that looks on all we do,— My mother's deeds, defilèd and impure, That He may be a witness in my cause, That I did justly bring this doom to pass Upon my mother.... Of Ægisthos' fate No word I speak. He bears the penalty, As runs the law, of an adulterer's guilt; But she who planned this crime against a man By whom she knew the weight of children borne Beneath her girdle, once a burden loved, But now, as it is proved, a grievous ill, 980 What seems she to you? Had she viper been, Or fell myræna,[461] she with touch alone, *Rather than bite, had made a festering sore With that bold daring of unrighteous mood. What shall I call it, using mildest speech? A wild beast's trap?—a pall that wraps a bier, And hides a dead man's feet?—A net, I trow, A snare, a robe entangling, one might call it. Such might be owned by one to plunder trained, Practised in duping travellers, and the life That robs men of their money; with this trap 990 Destroying many, many deeds of ill His fevered brain might hatch. May such as she Ne'er share my dwelling! May the hand of God Far rather smite me that I childless die!

_Chor._ [_looking on_ AGAMEMNON'S _robe._] Ah me! ah me! these deeds most miserable! By hateful murder thou wast done to death. Woe, woe is me! And evil buds and blooms for him that's left.

_Orest._ Was the deed hers or no? Lo! this same robe Bears witness how she dyed Ægisthos' sword, And the blood-stain helps Time's destroying work, 1000 Marring full many a tint of pattern fair: *Now name I it, now as eye-witness wail;[462] And calling on this robe that slew my father, Moan for all done and suffered, wail my race, Bearing the foul stains of this victory.

_Chor._ No mortal man shall live a life unharmed, *Stout-hearted and rejoicing evermore. Woe, woe is me! One trouble vexes now, another comes.

_Orest._ (_wildly, as one distraught._) Nay, know ye—for I know not how 'twill end;1010 Like chariot-driver with his steeds I'm dragged Out of my course; for passion's moods uncurbed Bear me their victim headlong. At my heart Stands terror ready or to sing or dance In burst of frenzy. While my reason stays, I tell my friends here that I slew my mother, Not without right, my father's murderess, Accursed, and hated of the Gods. And I As chiefest spell that made me dare this deed Count Loxias, Pythian prophet, warning me That doing this I should be free from blame, 1020 But slighting.... I pass o'er the penalty[463].... For none, aim as he will, such woes will hit. And now ye see me, in what guise equipped,

[_Putting on the suppliant's wreaths of wool, and
taking an olive branch in his hand_

With this my bough and chaplet I will gain Earth's central shrine, the home where Loxias dwells, And the bright fire that is as deathless known,[464] Seeking to 'scape this guilt of kindred blood; And on no other hearth, so Loxias bade, May I seek shelter. And I charge you all, Ye Argives, bear ye witness in due time 1030 How these dark deeds of wretched ill were wrought: But I, a wanderer, exiled from my land, Shall live, and leaving these my prayers in death,...

_Chor._ Nay, thou hast prospered: burden not thy lips With evil speech, nor speak ill-boding words, When thou hast freed the Argive commonwealth, By good chance lopping those two serpents' heads.

[_The Erinnyes are seen in the background, visible
to_ ORESTES _only, in black robes, and with
snakes in their hair_

_Orest._ Ah! ah! ye handmaids: see, like Gorgons these, Dark-robed, and all their tresses hang entwined With many serpents. I can bear no more.

_Chor._ What phantoms vex thee, best beloved of sons 1040 By thy dear sire? Hold, fear not, victory's thine.

_Orest._ These are no phantom terrors that I see: Full clear they are my mother's vengeful hounds.

_Chor._ The blood fresh-shed is yet upon thy hands, And thence it is these troubles haunt thy soul.

_Orest._ O King Apollo! See, they swarm, they swarm, And from their eyes is dropping loathsome blood.

_Chor._ One way of cleansing is there; Loxias' form Clasp thou, and he will free thee from these ills.

_Orest._ These forms ye see not, but I see them there: They drive me on, and I can bear no more. [_Exit_

_Chor._ Well, may'st thou prosper; may the gracious God 1050 Watch o'er and guard thee with a chance well timed!

Here, then, upon this palace of our kings
A third storm blows again;
The blast that haunts the race has run its course.
First came the wretched meal of children's flesh;
Next what befell our king:
Slain in the bath was he who ruled our host,
Of all the Achæans lord;
And now a third has come, we know not whence,[465]
To save ... or shall I say,
To work a doom of death?
Where will it end? Where will it cease at last,
The mighty Atè dread,
Lulled into slumber deep?

-----

Footnote 401:

Hermes is invoked, (1) as the watcher over the souls of the dead in
Hades, and therefore the natural patron of the murdered Agamemnon; (2)
as exercising an authority delegated by Zeus, and therefore capable of
being, like Zeus himself, the deliverer and helper of suppliants. So
Electra, further on, invokes Hermes in the same character. The line
may, however, be rendered,

“Who stand'st as guardian of my father's house.”

The three opening lines are noticeable, as having been chosen by
Aristophanes as the special object for his satirical criticism
(_Frogs_, 1126-1176), abounding in a good score of ambiguities and
tautologies.

Footnote 402:

The words point to the two symbolic aspects of one and the same
practice. In both there are some points of analogy with the earlier
and later forms of the Nazarite vow among the Jews. (1) As being part
of the body, and yet separable from it without mutilation, it became
the representative of the whole man, and as such was the sign of a
votive dedication. As early as Homer, it was the custom of youths to
keep one long, flowing lock as consecrated, and when they reached
manhood, they cut it off, and offered it to the river-god of their
country, throwing it into the stream, as that to which, directly and
indirectly, they owed their nurture. Here the offering is made to
Inachos, as the hero-founder of Argos, identified with the river that
bore his name. (2) They shaved their head, wholly or in part, as a
token as a token of grief, and then, because true grief for the dead
was an acceptable and propitiatory offering, this became the natural
offering for suppliants who offered their prayers at the tombs of the
departed. So in the _Aias_ of Sophocles (v. 1174) Teucros calls on
Eurysakes to approach the corpse of his father, holding in his hand
locks of his own hair, his mother's, and that of Teucros. In the
offering which Achilles makes over the grave of Patroclos of the hair
which he had cherished for the river-god of his fatherland,
Spercheios, we have the union of the two customs. Homer. _Il._ xxiii.
141-151.

Footnote 403:

After the widespread fashion of the East, the handmaids of
Clytæmnestra (originally Troïan captives) had to rend their clothes,
beat their breasts, and lacerate their faces till the blood came. The
higher civilisation of Solon's laws had forbidden these wild,
barbarous forms of grief at Athens. Plutarch, _Solon_, p. 164.

Footnote 404:

Purposely, perhaps, obscure. They seem to say that the old reverence
for Agamemnon has passed away, and instead of it there is only a
slavish fear for Ægisthos. For the more acute, however, they imply
that those who have cause to fear are Ægisthos and Clytæmnestra
themselves.

Footnote 405:

The words, in their generalising sententiousness, refer specially to
the twofold crime of Ægisthos as an adulterer and murderer. Then, in
the Epode, the Chorus justify themselves for their seeming
inconsistency in thus abhorring the guilt, and yet acting as
instruments of the guilty in their attempts to escape punishment.

Footnote 406:

The mourners speak, of course, of Agamemnon and Orestes, not of
Ægisthos and Clytæmnestra.

Footnote 407:

A mixture of meal, honey, and oil formed the half-liquid substance
commonly used for these funereal libations. The “garlands” may be
wreaths of flowers or fillets, or the word may be used figuratively
for the libation itself, as crowning the mound in which Agamemnon lay.

Footnote 408:

The words point to a strange Athenian custom. When a house was
cleansed of that which defiled it, morally or physically, the filth
was carried in an earthen vessel to a place where three ways met, and
the worshipper flung the vessel behind him, and walked away without
turning to look at it. To Electra's mind, the libation which her
mother sends is equally unclean, and should be treated in the same
way. So in Hom. _Il._ i. 314, the Argives purify themselves, and then
cast the lustral water they have used into the sea. Lev. vi. 11, gives
us an analogous usage. Comp. also Theocritos, _Idyll_ xxiv., vv.
22-97.

Footnote 409:

Partly it is the youth of Electra that seeks counsel from those who
had more experience; partly she shrinks from the responsibility of
being the first to utter the formula of execration.

Footnote 410:

The word “escort” has a special reference to the function of Hermes in
the unseen world. As he was wont to act as guide to the souls of the
dead in their downward journey, so now Electra prays that he may lead
the blessings she asks for upward from the dark depths of Earth.

Footnote 411:

The Skythian bow, long and elastic, bending either way, like those of
the Arabians (Herod. vii. 69). The connection of Ares with the wild,
fierce tribes of Thrakia and Skythia meets us again and again in the
literature of Greece. He was the only God to whom they built temples
(_ibid._ iv. 59). They sacrificed human victims to an iron sword as
his more appropriate symbol (iv. 62). The use of iron for weapons of
war came to the Greeks from them (_Seven ag. Th._ 729; _Prom._ 714).

Footnote 412:

It may be worth while to compare the method adopted by the three
dramatists of Greece in bringing about the recognition of the brother
by the sister. (1) Here the lock of hair, in its peculiar colour and
texture resembling her own, followed by the likeness of his footsteps
to hers, prepares the way first for vague anticipations, and then the
robe she had made for him, leads to her acceptance of Orestes on his
own discovery of himself. To this it has been objected, by Euripides
in the first instance (_Electra_, vv. 462-500), that the evidence of
the colour of the hair is weak, that a young man's foot must have been
larger than a maiden's, and that he could not have worn as a man the
garment she had made for him as a child. It might be replied, perhaps,
that there are such things as hereditary resemblances extending to the
colour of the hair and the arch of the instep, and that the robe may
either have been shown instead of worn, or, being worn, have been
adapted for the larger growth. (2) In the _Electra_ of Sophocles the
lock of hair alone convinces Chrysothemis that her brother is near at
hand (v. 900), while Electra herself requires the further evidence of
Agamemnon's seal (v. 1223). In Euripides (v. 527), all proof fails
till Orestes shows a scar on his brow, which his sister remembers.

Footnote 413:

The saying is probably one of the widespread proverbs which imply
parables. The idea is obviously that with which we are familiar in the
Gospel “grain of mustard seed.” Here, as in the “kicking against the
pricks” of Acts ix. 5, xxvi. 14, and _Agam._ v. 1604, we are carried
back to a period which lies beyond the range of history as that in
which men took note of the analogies and embodied them in forms like
this.

Footnote 414:

So in the _Odyssey_ (xix. 228), Odysseus appears as wearing a woollen
cloak, on which are embroidered the figures of a fawn and a dog.

Footnote 415:

An obvious reproduction of the words of Andromache (_Il._ vi. 429).

Footnote 416:

The words seem to imply that burning alive was known among the Greeks
as a punishment for the most atrocious crimes. The “oozing pitch,” if
we adopt that rendering, apparently describes something like the
“_tunica molesta_” of Juvenal. (_Sat._ viii. 235.) Hesychios (s. v.
Κωνῆσαι) mentions the practice as alluded to in a lost play of
Æschylos.

Footnote 417:

The words are both doubtful and obscure. Taking the reading which I
have adopted, they seem to mean that while men in general had means of
propitiating the Erinnyes and other Powers for the guilt of unavenged
bloodshed, Orestes and Electra had no such way of escape open to them.
If they, the next of kin, failed to do their work, they would be
exposed to the full storm of wrath. But a conjectural emendation of
one word gives us,

“For making known to men the earth-born ills
That come from wrathful Powers.”

Footnote 418:

Either that old age would come prematurely, or that the hair itself
would share the leprous whiteness of the flesh.

Footnote 419: