Chor. Ah, my fond heart is quivering in dismay,

*Hearing this loud lament most lamentable:

*Hearing that speech; but then again when hope

*On strength uplifts me, far it drives my grief,

Orest. What could we speak more fitly than the woes

We suffer, yea, and from a parent's hands?

Well, she may fawn; our mood remains unsoothed;

A wrathful soul that to no fawning yields.

Chor. *I strike an Arian stroke, and in the strain

Ye might have seen the stretching forth of hands,

With rendings of the hair, and random blows,

Dealt from above with arm at fullest length,

And with the beating still my head is stunned,

Elect. O mother, hostile found, and daring all!

Thou had'st the heart a ruler to inter,

A spouse unwept, with no lamentings loud.

Orest. Ah! thou hast told the whole full tale of shame;

Shall she not pay then for that outrage dire

May it be mine to smite her and then die!

Chor. Yea, he was maimed!^[429] (that thou the tale may'st know)

And as she slaughtered, so she buried him,

For thy young life all unendurable.

Thy father suffered, stained with foulest shame.

Elect. Thou tellest of my father's death, but I

Counted as nought, and like a cursèd hound

Shut up within, I poured the tide of tears

Uttering in secret wail of weeping full.

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:

Seek thou with all desire to know the rest;

Within the lists with mind inflexible.

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.

Orest. My Might their Might, my Right their

Elect. *Ye Gods, give righteous issue in our cause.

Chor. Fear creeps upon me as I hear your prayers.

Semi-Chor. A. Oh, woe that haunts the race,

And harsh, shrill stroke of Atè's bloody scourge!

Ah, woe is me, a grief immedicable.

Semi-Chor. B. Yea, but as cure for this,

And healing salve,'tis yours with your own hands,

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

Orest. O sire, who in no kingly fashion died'st,

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.

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.

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.

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;

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.

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.

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,

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.

Chor. Many dread forms of evils terrible

*O'erflow, and through mid-air the meteor lights

And creeping things can tell the vehement rage

But who man's temper overbold may tell,

Passions close bound with men's calamities?

That sways the weaker sex in brutes and men,

Whoso is not bird-witted, let him think

Of subtle craft that wrought its will by fire,

That wretched child of Thestios, who to slay

Which had its birth when first from out the womb

And spanned the measure of its life with his,

Another, too, must we with loathing name,

Who for the sake of foes a dear one slew,

Won by the gold-chased bracelets brought from Crete,

Robbed Nisos of his lock of deathless life,

Surprising him deep-breathing in his sleep;

And since I tell the tale of ruthless woes....^[436]

*To tell of evil marriage which this house

And of a woman's schemes and stratagems

*Chief whom his people honoured as was meet,

I give my praise to hearth from hot broils free,

But of all crimes the Lemnian foremost stands^[437]

As worthy of all loathing. Yes, this guilt

With Lemnian ills; and now that race is gone,

By the foul guilt the Gods abominate:

For no man honours what the Gods condemn,

And now the sword already at the heart,

Sharp-pointed, strikes a blow that pierces through,

Of one who doth transgress all lawlessly

The might and majesty of Zeus, lies not

The anvil-block of Vengeance firm is set,

And Fate, the swordsmith, hammers on the bronze

And in due time the debt of guilt is paid

By the dark-souled Erinnys, famed of old,

For blood of former days.

Orest. What ho, boy! hear us knocking at the gate.

Who is within, boy? who, boy?—hear, again;

A third time now I give my summons here,

If good Ægisthos' house be hospitable.

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;

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.

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.

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

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,

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?

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:

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]

Chor. Come then, handmaids of the palace,

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?

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!

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,

(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,

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.'

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!

Chor. Now to my prayer, O Father of the Gods

Grant that their fortune may be blest indeed

*Who long to look on goodness prospering well,

I speak the word—O Zeus, preserve thou him!

Yea, Zeus, set him whom now the palace holds,

Then shall thou have, to thy heart's full content,

Payment of twofold, threefold recompense.

Know that the son of one who loved thee well

*Is to the chariot of great evils yoked,

*And set thy limit to his weary path.

*His panting footsteps, as he treads his course,

*Keeping due measure through this plain of ours!

O Thou^[444] that dwellest in the cavern vast,

Grant our lord's house to look up yet once more,

*My gains, yea mine, 'twill swell, and Atè then

But thou, take courage, when the time is come

When she shall cry aloud the name of “son,”

And work thou out a woe that none will blame.

[And bidding Vengeance come as thine ally,]