For though you should repulse me, by and by

In trouble you will turn to me again.

ELECTRA.

Nay but let nothing of your fardel, dear,

Light on the tomb! for it were shame —were sin

From an abominable spouse to bring

Lustrations near, or perform obsequies

To a sire’s shade. Let the winds have them, rather!

Or hide them deep in dust, where none of them

Shall ever touch our father’s resting-place;

Let them be kept, stored underground, for her

When she is dead! Why, if she were not grown

The most abandoned of all womankind,

She never would have dreamt of smothering

With her unfriendly strewments him she murdered!

Why look you, think you the entombed dead

Will take these gifts in kindness, at her hands

Who slew him foully, like an enemy,

Lopped of the extremities, the stains of blood

Smeared off, for lustral washings, on his head!

Do you imagine what you bear can purge

Her from her murder? Never! Let it be!

Cut from your head the longest locks of hair —

And mine, unhappy — small the gift, indeed,

But what I have — and give it him, this hair

Untended, and my girdle, unadorned

With broiderings! Fall upon your knees, and pray him

In favour come and help us, from the earth,

Against our enemies; and that his boy

Orestes may set foot, before he die,

Superior, on the bodies of his foes,

That we may crown him afterward with hands

Larger in gift than we can proffer now!

Yea I believe, I do believe, that he

Had part in sending her this ugly dream;

But still, sister, do this, for your own good,

And mine, and his, the man of all mankind

Dearest, our sire, who in the grave lies dead.

I LADY.

The princess speaks religiously, my friend;

And you, if you are wise, will heed her.

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

Yes.

It stands to reason, not that two should quarrel

Over their duty, but be quick and do it.

Only while I essay this business, friends,

Do you keep secret, in the name of Heaven!

For if my mother hears it, to my cost,

Methinks, I shall attempt this venture, yet.

[Exit CHRYSOTHEMIS.

CHORUS.

I.

If I be seer

Not wholly erring and unpolicied,

Self-prophesying Justice means to appear,

Bringing large succour to the righteous side,

And following on, my child, with no long waiting-tide.

Courage springs up within me, as I hear

The voice of dreams, breathing sweet music near;

He who begat thee, the Hellenian King,

Forgets not ever; nor that Ancient Thing,

The two-edged brazen fang, by which he foully died.

2.

Lo, this is she,

Erinys,* hiding her dread ambushed bands,

Sandalled with brass, with myriad feet and hands.

Yea time hath been, when they who should not, plied

A blood-stained spousal-work, unmeet for bed or bride.

Whence it comes o’er me, I shall never see

On doer and accomplice harmlessly

This portent fall; and nothing future can

By good or ill dream be revealed to man,