{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/electr.htm","path":"cla/eurip/electr.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/electr.htm","text":"Electra\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nA PEASANT OF MYCENAE, husband of ELECTRA\nELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon\nORESTES, son of Agamemnon\nPYLADES, friend Of ORESTES\nCHORUS OF ARGIVE COUNTRY-WOMEN\nCLYTEMNESTRA, widow of Agamemnon\nOLD MAN, formerly servant of Agamemnon\nMESSENGER\nTHE DIOSCURI\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the hut of the PEASANT, in the country on the borders of Argolis.\nIt is just before sunrise. The PEASANT is discovered alone.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nPEASANT O Argos, ancient land, and streams of Inachus, whence on\na day king Agamemnon sailed to the realm of Troy, carrying his warriors\naboard a thousand ships; and after he had slain Priam who was reigning\nin Ilium and captured the famous city of Dardanus, he came hither\nto Argos and has set up high on the temple-walls many a trophy, spoil\nof the barbarians. Though all went well with him in Troy, yet was\nhe slain in his own palace by the guile of his wife Clytemnestra and\nthe hand of Aegisthus, son of Thyestes. So he died and left behind\nhim the ancient sceptre of Tantalus, and Aegisthus reigns in his stead,\nwith the daughter of Tyndareus, Agamemnon's queen, to wife. Now as\nfor those whom he left in his halls, when he sailed to Troy, his son\nOrestes and his tender daughter Electra,-the boy Orestes, as he was\nlike to be slain by Aegisthus, his sire's old foster-father secretly\nremoved to the land of Phocis and gave to Strophius to bring up, but\nthe maid Electra abode in her father's house, and soon as she had\nbudded into maidenhood, came all the princes of Hellas asking her\nhand in marriage. But Aegisthus kept her at home for fear she might\nbear a son to some chieftain who would avenge Agamemnon, nor would\nhe betroth her unto any. But when e'en thus there seemed some room\nfor fear that she might bear some noble lord a child by stealth and\nAegisthus was minded to slay her, her mother, though she had a cruel\nheart, yet rescued the maiden from his hand. For she could find excuses\nfor having slain her husband, but she feared the hatred she would\nincur for her children's murder. Wherefore Aegisthus devised this\nscheme; on Agamemnon's son who had escaped his realm by flight he\nset a price to be paid to any who should slay him, while he gave Electra\nto me in marriage, whose ancestors were citizens of Mycenae. It is\nnot that I blame myself for; my family was noble enough, though certainly\nimpoverished, and so my good birth suffers. By making for her this\nweak alliance he thought he would have little to fear. For if some\nman of high position had married her, he might have revived the vengeance\nfor Agamemnon's murder, which now is sleeping; in which case Aegisthus\nwould have paid the penalty. But Cypris is my witness that I have\never respected her maidenhood; she is still as though unwed. Unworthy\nas I am, honour forbids that I should so affront the daughter of a\nbetter man. Yea, and I am sorry for Orestes, hapless youth, who is\ncalled my kinsman, to think that he should ever return to Argos and\nbehold his sister's wretched marriage. And whoso counts me but a fool\nfor leaving a tender maid untouched when I have her in my house, to\nhim I say, he measures purity by the vicious standard of his own soul,\na standard like himself. (ELECTRA enters from the hut, carrying a\nwater pitcher on her head. She is meanly clad.)\nELECTRA O sable night, nurse of the golden stars! beneath thy pall\nI go to fetch water from the brook with my pitcher poised upon my\nhead, not indeed because I am forced to this necessity, but that to\nthe gods I may display the affronts Aegisthus puts upon me, and to\nthe wide firmament pour out my lamentation for my sire. For my own\nmother, the baleful daughter of Tyndareus, hath cast me forth from\nher house to gratify her lord; for since she hath borne other children\nto Aegisthus she puts me and Orestes on one side at home.\nPEASANT Oh! why, poor maiden, dost thou toil so hard on my behalf,\nthou that aforetime wert reared so daintily? why canst thou not forego\nthy labour, as I bid thee?\nELECTRA As a god's I count thy kindness to me, for in my distress\nthou hast never made a mock at me. 'Tis rare fortune when mortals\nfind such healing balm for their cruel wounds as 'tis my lot to find\nin thee. Wherefore I ought, though thou forbid me, to lighten thy\nlabours, as far as my strength allows, and share all burdens with\nthee to ease thy load. Thou hast enough to do abroad; 'tis only right\nthat I should keep thy house in order. For when the toiler cometh\nto his home from the field, it is pleasant to find all comfortable\nin the house.\nPEASANT If such thy pleasure, go thy way; for, after all, the spring\nis no great distance from my house. And at break of day I will drive\nmy steers to my glebe and sow my crop. For no idler, though he has\nthe gods' names ever on his lips, can gather a livelihood without\nhard work. (ELECTRA and the PEASANT go out. A moment later ORESTES\nand PYLADES enter.)\nORESTES Ah Pylades, I put thee first 'mongst men for thy love, thy\nloyalty and friendliness to me; for thou alone of all my friends wouldst\nstill honour poor Orestes, in spite of the grievous plight whereto\nI am reduced by Aegisthus, who with my accursed mother's aid slew\nmy sire. I am come from Apollo's mystic shrine to the soil of Argos,\nwithout the knowledge of any, to avenge my father's death upon his\nmurderers. Last night went unto his tomb and wept thereon, cutting\noff my hair as an offering and pouring o'er the grave the blood of\na sheep for sacrifice, unmarked by those who lord it o'er this land.\nAnd now though I enter not the walled town, yet by coming to the borders\nof the land I combine two objects; I can escape to another country\nif any spy me out and recognize me, and at the same time seek my sister,\nfor I am told she is a maid no longer but is married and living here,\nthat I may meet her, and, after enlisting her aid in the deed of blood,\nlearn for certain what is happening in the town. Let us now, since\ndawn is uplifting her radiant eye, step aside from this path. For\nmaybe some labouring man or serving maid will come in sight, of whom\nwe may inquire whether it is here that my sister hath her home. Lo!\nyonder I see a servant bearing a full pitcher of water on her shaven\nhead; let us sit down and make inquiry of this bond-maid, if haply\nwe may glean some tidings of the matter which brought us hither, Pylades.\n(They retire a little, as ELECTRA returns from the spring.)\nELECTRA (chanting, strophe 1)\nBestir thy lagging feet, 'tis high time; on, on o'er thy path of\ntears! ah misery! I am Agamemnon's daughter, she whom Clytemnestra,\nhateful child of Tyndareus, bare; hapless Electra is the name my countrymen\ncall me. Ah me! for my cruel lot, my hateful existence! O my father\nAgamemnon! in Hades art thou laid, butchered by thy wife and Aegisthus.\nCome, raise with me that dirge once more; uplift the woful strain\nthat brings relief.\n(antistrophe 1)\nOn, on o'er thy path of tears! ah misery! And thou, poor brother,\nin what city and house art thou a slave, leaving thy suffering sister\nbehind in the halls of our fathers to drain the cup of bitterness?\nOh! come, great Zeus, to set me free from this life of sorrow, and\nto avenge my sire in the blood of his foes, bringing the wanderer\nhome to Argos.\n(strophe 2)\nTake this pitcher from my head, put it down, that I may wake betimes,\nwhile it is yet night, my lamentation for my sire, my doleful chant,\nmy dirge of death, for thee, my father in thy grave, which day by\nday I do rehearse, rending my skin with my nails, and smiting on my\nshaven head in mourning for thy death. Woe, woe! rend the cheek; like\na swan with clear loud note beside the brimming river calling to its\nparent dear that lies a-dying in the meshes of the crafty net, so\nI bewail thee, my hapless sire,\n(antistrophe 2)\nAfter that last fatal bath of thine laid out most piteously in death.\nOh I the horror of that axe which hacked thee so cruelly, my sire\nI oh! the bitter thought that prompted thy return from Troy! With\nno garlands or victor's crowns did thy wife welcome thee, but with\nhis two-edged sword she made thee the sad sport of Aegisthus and kept\nher treacherous paramour. (The CHORUS OF ARGIVE COUNTRY-WOMEN enter.\nThe following lines between ELECTRA and the CHORUS are sung responsively.)\nCHORUS (strophe)\nO Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, to thy rustic cot I come, for a\nmessenger hath arrived, a highlander from Mycenae, one who lives on\nmilk, announcing that the Argives are proclaiming a sacrifice for\nthe third day from now, and all our maidens are to go to Hera's temple.\nELECTRA Kind friends, my heart is not set on festivity, nor do necklaces\nof gold cause any flutter in my sorrowing bosom, nor will I stand\nup with the maidens of Argos to beat my foot in the mazy dance. Tears\nhave been my meat day and night; ah misery! See my unkempt hair, my\ntattered dress; are they fit for a princess, a daughter of Agamemnon,\nor for Troy which once thought of my father as its captor?\nCHORUS (antistrophe)\nMighty is the goddess; so come, and borrow of me broidered robes\nfor apparel and jewels of gold that add a further grace to beauty's\ncharms. Dost think to triumph o'er thy foes by tears, if thou honour\nnot the gods? 'Tis not by lamentation but by pious prayers to heaved\nthat thou, my daughter, wilt make fortune smile on thee.\nELECTRA No god hearkens to the voice of lost Electra, or heeds the\nsacrifices offered by my father long ago. Ah woe for the dead! woe\nfor the living wanderer, who dwelleth in some foreign land, an outcast\nand vagabond at a menial board, sprung though he is of a famous sire!\nMyself, too, in a poor man's hut do dwell, wasting my soul with grief,\nan exile from my father's halls, here by the scarred hill-side; while\nmy mother is wedded to a new husband in a marriage stained by blood.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Many a woe to Hellas and thy house did Helen,\nthy mother's sister, cause.\nELECTRA (catching sight of ORESTES AND PYLADES) Ha! Friends, I break\noff my lament; yonder are strangers just leaving the place of ambush\nwhere they were couching, and making for the house. We must seek to\nescape the villains by flying, thou along the path and I into my cottage.\nORESTES Stay, poor maid; fear no violence from me.\nELECTRA O Phoebus Apollo I beseech thee spare my life.\nORESTES Give me the lives of others more my foes than thou!\nELECTRA Begone! touch me not! thou hast no right to.\nORESTES There is none I have a better right to touch.\nELECTRA How is it then thou waylayest me, sword in hand, near my\nhouse?\nORESTES Wait and hear, and thou wilt soon agree with me\nELECTRA Here I stand; I am in thy power in any case, since thou art\nthe stronger.\nORESTES I am come to thee with news of thy brother.\nELECTRA O best of friends! is he alive or dead?\nORESTES Alive; I would fain give thee my good news first.\nELECTRA God bless thee! in return for thy welcome tidings.\nORESTES I am prepared to share that blessing between us.\nELECTRA In what land is my poor brother spending his dreary exile?\nORESTES His ruined life does not conform to the customs of any one\ncity.\nELECTRA Surely he does not want for daily bread?\nORESTES Bread he has, but an exile is a helpless man at best.\nELECTRA What is this message thou hast brought from him?\nORESTES He asks, \"Art thou alive? and if so, How art thou faring?\"\nELECTRA Well, first thou seest how haggard I am grown.\nORESTES So wasted with sorrow that I weep for thee.\nELECTRA Next mark my head, shorn and shaven like a Scythian's.\nORESTES Thy brother's fate and father's death no doubt disturb thee.\nELECTRA Yes, alas! for what have I more dear than these?\nORESTES Ah! and what dost thou suppose is dearer to thy brother?\nELECTRA He is far away, not here to show his love to me.\nORESTES Wherefore art thou living here far from the city?\nELECTRA I am wedded, sir; a fatal match!\nORESTES Alas! for thy brother; I pity him. Is thy husband of Mycenae?\nELECTRA He is not the man to whom my father ever thought of betrothing\nme.\nORESTES Tell me all, that I may report it to thy brother.\nELECTRA I live apart from my husband in this house.\nORESTES The only fit inmate would be a hind or herd.\nELECTRA Poor he is, yet he displays a generous consideration for\nme.\nORESTES Why, what is this consideration that attaches to thy husband?\nELECTRA He has never presumed to claim from me a husband's rights.\nORESTES Is he under a vow of chastity? or does he disdain thee?\nELECTRA He thought he had no right to flout my ancestry.\nORESTES How was it he was not overjoyed at winning such a bride?\nELECTRA He does not recognize the right of him who disposed of my\nhand.\nORESTES I understand; he was afraid of the vengeance of Orestes hereafter.\nELECTRA There was that fear, but he was a virtuous man as well.\nORESTES Ah! a noble nature this! He deserves kind treatment.\nELECTRA Yes, if ever the wanderer return.\nORESTES But did thy own mother give in to this?\nELECTRA 'Tis her husband, not her children that a woman loves, sir\nstranger.\nORESTES Wherefore did Aegisthus put this affront on thee?\nELECTRA His design in giving me to such a husband was to weaken my\noffspring\nORESTES To prevent thee bearing sons, I suppose, who should punish\nhim?\nELECTRA That was his plan; God grant I may avenge me on him for it!\nORESTES Does thy mother's husband know that thou art yet a maid?\nELECTRA He does not; our silence robs him of that knowledge.\nORESTES Are these women friends of thine, who overhear our talk?\nELECTRA They are, and they will keep our conversation perfectly secret.\nORESTES What could Orestes do in this matter, if he did return?\nELECTRA Canst thou ask? Shame on thee for that! Is not this the time\nfor action?\nORESTES But suppose he comes, how could he slay his father's murderers?\nELECTRA By boldly meting out the same fate that his father had meted\nout to him by his foes.\nORESTES Wouldst thou be brave enough to help him slay his mother?\nELECTRA Aye, with the self-same axe that drank my father's blood.\nORESTES Am I to tell him this, and that thy purpose firmly holds?\nELECTRA Once I have shed my mother's blood o'er his, then welcome\ndeath!\nORESTES Ah! would Orestes were standing near to hear that!\nELECTRA I should not know him, sir, if I saw him.\nORESTES No wonder; you were both children when you parted.\nELECTRA There is only one of my friends would recognize him.\nORESTES The man maybe who is said to have snatched him away from\nbeing murdered?\nELECTRA Yes, the old servant who tended my father's childhood long\nago.\nORESTES Did thy father's corpse obtain burial?\nELECTRA Such burial as it was, after his body had been flung forth\nfrom the palace.\nORESTES O God! how awful is thy story! Yes, there is a feeling, arising\neven from another's distress, that wrings the human heart. Say on,\nthat when know the loveless tale, which yet I needs must hear, I may\ncarry it to thy brother. For pity, though it has no place in ignorant\nnatures, is inborn in the wise; still it may cause trouble to find\nexcessive cleverness amongst the wise.\nLEADER I too am stirred by the same desire as the stranger. For dwelling\nso far from the city I know nothing of its ills, and I should like\nto hear about them now myself.\nELECTRA I will tell you, if I may; and surely I may tell a friend\nabout my own and my father's grievous misfortunes. Now since thou\nmovest me to speak, I entreat thee, sir, tell Orestes of our sorrows;\nfirst, describe the dress I wear, the load of squalor that oppresses\nme, the hovel I inhabit after my royal home; tell him how hard I have\nto work at weaving clothes myself or else go barely clad and do without;\nhow I carry home on my head water from the brook; no part have I in\nholy festival, no place amid the dance; a maiden still I turn from\nmarried dames and from Castor too, to whom they betrothed me before\nhe joined the heavenly host, for I was his kinswoman. Meantime my\nmother, 'mid the spoils of Troy, is seated on her throne, and at her\nfoot-stool slaves from Asia stand and wait, captives of my father's\nspear, whose Trojan robes are fastened with brooches of gold. And\nthere on the wall my father's blood still leaves a deep dark stain,\nwhile his murderer mounts the dead man's car and fareth forth, proudly\ngrasping in his blood-stained hands the sceptre with which Agamemnon\nwould marshal the sons of Hellas. Dishonoured lies his grave; naught\nas yet hath it received of drink outpoured or myrtle-spray, but bare\nof ornament his tomb is left. Yea, and 'tis said that noble hero who\nis wedded to my mother, in his drunken fits, doth leap upon the grave,\nand pelt with stones my father's monument, boldly gibing at us on\nthis wise, \"Where is thy son Orestes? Is he ever coming in his glory\nto defend thy tomb?\" Thus is Orestes flouted behind his back. Oh!\ntell him this, kind sir, I pray thee. And there be many calling him\nto come,-I am but their mouthpiece,-these suppliant hands, this tongue,\nmy broken heart, my shaven head, and his own father too. For 'tis\nshameful that the sire should have destroyed Troy's race and the son\nyet prove too weak to pit himself against one foe unto the death,\nalbeit he has youth and better blood as well.\nLEADER Lo! here is thy husband hurrying homeward, his labour done.\nPEASANT (entering and catching sight of strangers talking to ELECTRA)\nHa! who are these strangers I see at my door? And why are they come\nhither to my rustic gate? can they want my help? for 'tis unseemly\nfor a woman to stand talking with young men.\nELECTRA Dear husband, be not suspicious of me. For thou shalt hear\nthe truth; these strangers have come to bring me news of Orestes.\nGood sirs, pardon him those words.\nPEASANT What say they? is that hero yet alive and in the light of\nday?\nELECTRA He is; at least they say so, and I believe them.\nPEASANT Surely then he hath some memory of his father and thy wrongs?\nELECTRA These are things to hope for; a man in exile is helpless.\nPEASANT What message have they brought from Orestes?\nELECTRA He sent them to spy out my evil case.\nPEASANT Well, they only see a part of it, though maybe thou art telling\nthem the rest.\nELECTRA They know all; there is nothing further they need ask.\nPEASANT Long ere this then shouldst thou have thrown open our doors\nto them. Enter, sirs; for in return for your good tidings, shall ye\nfind such cheer as my house affords. Ho! servants, take their baggage\nwithin; make no excuses, for ye are friends sent by one I love; and\npoor though I am, yet will I never show meanness in my habits.\nORESTES 'Fore heaven! is this the man who is helping thee to frustrate\nthy marriage, because he will not shame Orestes?\nELECTRA This is he whom they call my husband, woe is me!\nORESTES Ah! there is no sure mark to recognize a man's worth; for\nhuman nature hath in it an element of confusion. For I have seen ere\nnow the son of noble sire prove himself a worthless knave, and virtuous\nchildren sprung from evil parents; likewise dearth in a rich man's\nspirit, and in a poor man's frame a mighty soul. By what standard\nthen shall we rightly judge these things? By wealth? An evil test\nto use. By poverty then? Nay, poverty suffers from this, that it teaches\na man to play the villain from necessity. To martial prowess must\nI turn? But who could pronounce who is the valiant man merely from\nthe look of his spear? Better is it to leave these matters to themselves\nwithout troubling. For here is a man of no account in Argos, with\nno family reputation to boast, one of the common herd, proved a very\nhero. A truce to your folly! ye self-deceivers, swollen with idle\nfancies; learn to judge men by their converse, and by their habits\ndecide who are noble. Such are they who rule aright both states and\nfamilies; while those forms of flesh, devoid of intellect, are but\nfigure-heads in the market-place. The strong arm, again, no more than\nthe weak awaits the battle-shock, for this depends on natural courage.\nWell! absent or present, Agamemnon's son, whose business brings us\nhere, deserves this of us, so let us accept a lodging in this house.\n(Calling to his servants) Ho! sirrahs, go within. A humble host,\nwho does his best, in preference to a wealthy man for me! And so I\nthankfully accept this peasant's proffered welcome, though I could\nhave preferred that thy brother were conducting me to share his fortune\nin his halls. Maybe he yet will come; for the oracies of Loxias are\nsure, but to man's divining \"Farewell\" say I. (ORESTES, PYLADES and\ntheir attendants go into the hut.)\nLEADER Electra, I feel a warmer glow of joy suffuse my heart than\never heretofore; perchance our fortune, moving on at last, will find\na happy resting-place.\nELECTRA O reckless man, why didst thou welcome strangers like these,\nso far beyond thy station, knowing the poverty of thy house?\nPEASANT Why? if they are really as noble as they seem, surely they\nwill be equally content with rich or humble fare.\nELECTRA Well. since thou hast made this error, poor man as thou art,\ngo to my father's kind old foster-sire; on the bank of the river Tanaus,\nthe boundary 'twixt Argos and the land of Sparta, he tends his flocks,\nan outcast from the city; bid him come hither to our house and some\nprovision for the strangers' entertainment. Glad will he be, and will\noffer thanks to heaven to hear that the child, whom once he saved,\nis yet alive. I shall get nothing from my mother from my ancestral\nhalls; for we should rue our message, were she to learn, unnatural\nwretch! that Orestes liveth.\nPEASANT I will take this message to the old man, if it seem good\nto thee; but get thee in at once and there make ready. A woman, when\nshe chooses, can find dainties in plenty to garnish a feast. Besides,\nthere is quite enough in the house to satisfy them with food for one\nday at least. 'Tis in such cases, when I come to muse thereon, that\nI discern the mighty power of wealth, whether to give to strangers,\nor to expend in curing the body when it falls sick; but our daily\nfood is a small matter; for all of us, rich as well as poor, are in\nlike case, as soon as we are satisfied. (The PEASANT departs as ELECTRA\nenters the hut.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nYe famous ships, that on a day were brought to land at Troy by those\ncountless oars, what time ye led the Nereids' dance, where the dolphin\nmusic-loving rolled and gambolled round your dusky prows, escorting\nAchilles, nimble son of Thetis, when he went with Agamemnon to the\nbanks of Trojan Simois;\n(antistrophe 1)\nWhen Nereids left Euboea's strand, bringing from Hephaestus' golden\nforge the harness he had fashioned for that warrior's use; him long\nthey sought o'er Pelion and Ossa's spurs, ranging the sacred glens\nand the peaks of Nymphaea, where his knightly sire was training up\na light for Hellas, even the sea-born son of Thetis, a warrior swift\nto help the sons of Atreus.\n(strophe 2)\nOne that came from Ilium, and set foot in the haven of Nauplia, told\nme that on the circle of thy far-famed targe, O son of Thetis, was\nwrought this blazon, a terror to the Phrygians; on the rim of the\nbuckler Perseus with winged sandals, was bearing in his hand across\nthe main the Gorgon's head, just severed by the aid of Hermes, the\nmessenger of Zeus, that rural god whom Maia bore;\n(antistrophe 2)\nWhile in the centre of the shield the sun's bright orb flashed light\non the backs of his winged coursers; there too was the heavenly choir\nof stars, Pleiades and Hyades, to dazzle Hector's eyes and make him\nflee; and upon his gold-forged helm were sphinxes, bearing in their\ntalons the prey of which the minstrels sing; on his breast-plate was\nlioness breathing flame, her eye upon Peirene's steed, in eagerness\nto rend it.\nThere too in murderous fray four-footed steeds were prancing, while\noer their backs uprose dark clouds of dust. But he who led these warriors\nstout, was slain by wedding thee, malignant child of Tyndareus! Wherefore\nshall the gods of heaven one day send thee to thy doom, and I shall\nyet live to see the sword at thy throat, drinking its crimson tide.\n(The OLD MAN, the former servant of Agamemnon, enters. ELECTRA presently\nappears at the door of the hut.)\nOLD MAN Where is the young princess, my mistress, Agamemnon's daughter,\nwhom I nursed in days gone by? Oh! how steep is the approach to this\nhouse, a hard climb for these old wasted feet of mine! Still, to reach\nsuch friends as these, I must drag my bent old back and tottering\nknees up it. Ah, daughter!-for I see thee now at thy door,-lo! I have\nbrought the this tender lamb from my own flock, having taken it from\nits dam, with garlands too and cheese straight from the press, and\nthis flask of choice old wine with fragrant bouquet; 'tis small perhaps,\nbut pour a cup thereof into some weaker drink, and it is a luscious\ndraught. Let some one carry these gifts into the house for the guests;\nfor I would fain wipe from my eyes the rising tears on this tattered\ncloak.\nELECTRA Why stands the tear-drop in thine eye, old friend? Is it\nthat my sorrows have been recalled to thee after an interval? or art\nthou bewailing the sad exile of Orestes, and my father's fate, whom\nthou didst once fondle in thy arms, in vain, alas! for thee and for\nthy friends?\nOLD MAN Ah yes! in vain; but still I could not bear to leave him\nthus; and so I added this to my journey that I sought his grave, and,\nfalling thereupon, wept o'er its desolation; then did I open the wine-skin,\nmy gift to thy guests, and poured a libation, and set myrtle-sprigs\nround the tomb. And lo! upon the grave itself I saw a black ram had\nbeen offered, and there was blood, not long poured forth, and severed\nlocks of auburn hair. Much I wondered, my daughter, who had dared\napproach the tomb; certainly 'twas no Argive. Nay, thy brother may\nperchance have come by stealth, and going thither have done honour\nto his father's wretched grave. Look at the hair, compare it with\nthy own, to see if the colour of these cut locks is the same; for\nchildren in whose veins runs the same father's blood have a close\nresemblance in many features.\nELECTRA Old sir, thy words are unworthy of a wise man, if thou thinkest\nmy own brave brother would have come to this land by stealth for fear\nof Aegisthus. In the next place, how should our hair correspond? His\nis the hair of a gallant youth trained up in manly sports, mine a\nwoman's curled and combed; nay, that is a hopeless clue. Besides,\nthou couldst find many, whose hair is of the same colour, albeit not\nsprung from the same blood. No, maybe 'twas some stranger cut off\nhis hair in pity at his tomb, or one that came to spy this land privily.\nOLD MAN Put thy foot in the print of his shoe and mark whether it\ncorrespond with thine, my child.\nELECTRA How should the foot make any impression on stony ground?\nand if it did, the foot of brother and sister would not be the same\nin size, for man's is the larger.\nOLD MAN Hast thou no mark, in case thy brother should come, whereby\nto recognize the weaving of thy loom, the robe wherein I snatched\nhim from death that day?\nELECTRA Dost thou forget I was still a babe when Orestes left the\ncountry? and even if I had woven him a robe, how should he, a mere\nchild then, be wearing the same now, unless our clothes and bodies\ngrow together?\nOLD MAN Where are these guests? I fain would question them face to\nface about thy brother. (As he speaks, ORESTES and PYLADES come out\nof the hut.)\nELECTRA There they are, in haste to leave the house.\nOLD MAN Well born, it seems, but that may be a sham; for there be\nplenty such prove knaves. Still I give them greeting.\nORESTES All hail, father! To which of thy friends, Electra, does\nthis old relic of mortality belong?\nELECTRA This is he who nursed my sire, sir stranger.\nORESTES What! do I behold him who removed thy brother out of harm's\nway?\nELECTRA Behold the man who saved his life; if, that is, he liveth\nstill.\nORESTES Ha! why does he look so hard at me, as if he were examining\nthe bright device on silver coin? Is he finding in me a likeness to\nsome other?\nELECTRA Maybe he is glad to see in thee a companion of Orestes.\nORESTES A man I love full well. But why is he walking round me?\nELECTRA I, too, am watching his movements with amaze, sir stranger.\nOLD MAN My honoured mistress, my daughter Electra, return thanks\nto heaven,-\nELECTRA For past or present favours? which?\nOLD MAN That thou hast found a treasured prize, which God is now\nrevealing.\nELECTRA Hear me invoke the gods. But what dost thou mean, old man?\nOLD MAN Behold before thee, my child, thy nearest and dearest.\nELECTRA I have long feared thou wert not in thy sound senses\nOLD MAN Not in my sound senses, because I see thy brother?\nELECTRA What mean'st thou, aged friend, by these astounding words?\nOLD MAN That I see Orestes, Agamemnon's son, before me.\nELECTRA What mark dost see that I can trust?\nOLD MAN A scar along his brow, where he fell and cut himself one\nday in his father's home when chasing a fawn with thee.\nELECTRA Is it possible? True; I see the mark of the fall.\nOLD MAN Dost hesitate then to embrace thy own dear brother?\nELECTRA No! not any longer, old friend; for my soul is convinced\nby the tokens thou showest. O my brother, thou art come at last, and\nI embrace thee, little as I ever thought to.\nORESTES And thee to my bosom at last I press.\nELECTRA I never thought that it would happen.\nORESTES All hope in me was also dead.\nELECTRA Art thou really he?\nORESTES Aye, thy one and only champion, if I can but safely draw\nto shore the cast I mean to throw; and I feel sure I shall; else must\nwe cease to believe in gods, if wrong is to triumph o'er right.\nCHORUS (singing) At last, at last appears thy radiant dawn, O happy\nday! and as beacon to the city hast thou revealed the wanderer, who,\nlong ago, poor boy! was exiled from his father's halls. Now, lady,\ncomes our turn for victory, ushered in by some god. Raise hand and\nvoice in prayer, beseech the gods that good fortune may attend thy\nbrother's entry to the city.\nORESTES Enough! sweet though the rapture of this greeting be, I must\nwait and return it hereafter. Do thou, old friend so timely met, tell\nme how I am to avenge me on my father's murderer, and on my mother,\nthe partner in his guilty marriage. Have I still in Argos any band\nof kindly friends? or am I, like my fortunes, bankrupt altogether?\nWith whom am I to league myself? by night or day shall I advance?\npoint out a road for me to take against these foes of mine.\nOLD MAN My son, thou hast no friend now in thy hour of adversity.\nNo! that is a piece of rare good luck, to find another share thy fortunes\nalike for better and for worse. Thou art of every friend completely\nreft, all hope is gone from thee; be sure of what I tell thee; on\nthy own arm and fortune art thou wholly thrown to win thy father's\nhome and thy city.\nORESTES What must I do to compass this result?\nOLD MAN Slay Thyestes' son and thy mother.\nORESTES I came to win that victor's crown, but how can I attain it?\nOLD MAN Thou wouldst never achieve it if thou didst enter the walls.\nORESTES Are they manned with guards and armed sentinels?\nOLD MAN Aye truly; for he is afraid of thee, and cannot sleep secure.\nORESTES Well then, do thou next propose a scheme, old friend.\nOLD MAN Hear me a moment; an idea has just occurred to me.\nORESTES May thy counsel prove good, and my perception keen!\nOLD MAN I saw Aegisthus, as I was slowly pacing hither-\nORESTES I welcome thy words. Where was he?\nOLD MAN Not far from these fields, at his stables.\nORESTES What was he doing? I see a gleam of hope after our helplessness.\nOLD MAN I thought he was preparing a feast for the Nymphs.\nORESTES In return for the bringing up of children or in anticipation\nof a birth?\nOLD MAN All I know is this, he was preparing to sacrifice oxen.\nORESTES How many were with him? or was he alone with his servants?\nOLD MAN There was no Argive there; only a band of his own followers.\nORESTES Is it possible that any of them will recognize me, old man?\nOLD MAN They are only servants, and they have never even seen thee.\nORESTES Will they support me, if I prevail?\nOLD MAN Yes, that is the way of slaves, luckily for thee.\nORESTES On what pretext can I approach him?\nOLD MAN Go to some place where he will see thee as he sacrifices.\nORESTES His estate is close to the road then, I suppose.\nOLD MAN Yes, and when he sees thee there, he will invite thee to\nthe feast.\nORESTES So help me God! He shall rue his invitation.\nOLD MAN After that, form thy own plan according to circumstances.\nORESTES Good advice! But my mother, where is she?\nOLD MAN At Argos; but she will yet join her husband for the feast.\nORESTES Why did she not come forth with him?\nOLD MAN From fear of the citizens' reproach she stayed behind.\nORESTES I understand; she knows that the city suspects her.\nOLD MAN Just so; her wickedness makes her hated.\nORESTES How shall I slay her and him together?\nELECTRA Mine be the preparation of my mother's slaying!\nORESTES Well, as for the other, fortune will favour us.\nELECTRA Our old friend here must help us both.\nOLD MAN Aye, that will I; but wnat is thy scheme for slaying thy\nmother?\nELECTRA Go, old man, and tell Clytemnestra from me that I have given\nbirth to a son.\nOLD MAN Some time ago, or quite recently?\nELECTRA Ten days ago, which are the days of my purification.\nOLD MAN Suppose it done; but how doth this help towards slaying thy\nmother?\nELECTRA She will come, when she hears of my confinement.\nOLD MAN What! dost think she cares aught for thee, my child?\nELECTRA Oh yes! she will weep no doubt over my child's low rank.\nOLD MAN Perhaps she may; but go back again to the point.\nELECTRA Her death is certain, if she comes.\nOLD MAN In that case, let her come right up to the door of the house.\nELECTRA Why then it were a little thing to turn her steps into the\nroad to Hades' halls.\nOLD MAN Oh! to see this one day, then die!\nELECTRA First of all, old friend, act as my brother's guide.\nOLD MAN To the place where Aegisthus is now sacrificing to the gods?\nELECTRA Then go, find my mother and give her my message.\nOLD MAN Aye, that I will, so that she shall think the very words\nare thine.\nELECTRA (to ORESTES) Thy work begins at once; thou hast drawn the\nfirst lot in the tragedy.\nORESTES I will go, if some one will show me the way.\nOLD MAN I will myself conduct thee nothing loth.\nORESTES O Zeus, god of my fathers, vanquisher of my foes, have pity\non us, for a piteous lot has ours been.\nELECTRA Oh! have pity on thy own descendants.\nORESTES O Hera, mistress of Mycenae's altars, grant us the victory,\nif we are asking what is right.\nELECTRA Yes, grant us vengeance on them for our father's death.\nORESTES Thou too, my father, sent to the land of shades by wicked\nhands, and Earth, the queen of all, to whom I spread my suppliant\npalms, up and champion thy dear children. Come with all the dead to\naid, all they who helped thee break the Phrygians' power, and all\nwho hate ungodly crime. Dost hear me, father, victim of my mother's\nrage?\nELECTRA Sure am I he heareth all; but 'tis time to part. For this\ncause too I bid thee strike Aegisthus down, because, if thou fall\nin the struggle and perish, I also die; no longer number me amongst\nthe living; for I will stab myself with a two-edged sword. And now\nwill I go indoors and make all ready there, for, if there come good\nnews from thee, my house shall ring with women's cries of joy; but,\nif thou art slain, a different scene must then ensue. These are my\ninstructions to thee.\nORESTES I know my lesson well. (ORESTES, PYLADES, the OLD MAN, and\nattendants, depart.)\nELECTRA Then show thyself a man. And you, my friends, signal to me\nby cries the certain issue of this fray. Myself will keep the sword\nready in my grasp, for I will never accept defeat, and yield my body\nto my enemies to insult. (ELECTRA goes into the hut.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nStill the story finds a place in time-honoured legends, how on day\nPan, the steward of husbandry, came breathing dulcet music on his\njointed pipe, and brought with him from its tender dam on Argive hills,\na beauteous lamb with fleece of gold; then stood a herald high upon\nthe rock and cried aloud, \"Away to the place of assembly, ye folk\nof Mycenae! to behold the strange and awful sight vouchsafed to our\nblest rulers.\" Anon the dancers did obeisance to the family of Atreus;\n(antistrophe 1)\nThe altar-steps of beaten gold were draped; and through that Argive\ntown the altars blazed with fire; sweetly rose the lute's clear note,\nthe handmaid of the Muse's song; and ballads fair were written on\nthe golden lamb, saying that Thyestes had the luck; for he won the\nguilty love of the wife of Atreus, and carried off to his house the\nstrange creature, and then coming before the assembled folk he declared\nto them that he had in his house that horned beast with fleece of\ngold.\n(strophe 2)\nIn the self-same hour it was that Zeus changed the radiant courses\nof the stars, the light of the sun, and the joyous face of dawn, and\ndrave his car athwart the western sky with fervent heat from heaven's\nfires, while northward fled the rain-clouds, and Ammon's strand grew\nparched and faint and void of dew, when it was robbed of heaven's\ngenial showers.\n(antistrophe 2)\n'Tis said, though I can scarce believe it, the sun turned round his\nglowing throne of gold, to vex the sons of men by this change because\nof the quarrel amongst them. Still, tales of horror have their use\nin making men regard the gods; of whom thou hadst no thought, when\nthou slewest thy husband, thou mother of this noble pair.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Hark! my friends, did ye hear that noise, like\nto the rumbling of an earthquake, or am I the dupe of idle fancy?\nHark! hark! once more that wind-borne sound swells loudly on mine\near. Electra! mistress mine! come forth from the house!\nELECTRA (rushing out) What is it, good friends? how goes the day\nwith us?\nLEADER I hear the cries of dying men; no more I know.\nELECTRA I heard them too, far off, but still distinct.\nLEADER Yes, the sound came stealing from afar, but yet 'twas clear.\nELECTRA Was it the groan of an Argive, or of my friends?\nLEADER I know not; for the cries are all confused.\nELECTRA That word of thine is my death-warrant; why do I delay?\nLEADER Stay, till thou learn thy fate for certain.\nELECTRA No, no; we are vanquished; where are our messengers?\nLEADER They will come in time; to slay a king is no light task.\n(A MESSENGER enters in haste.)\nMESSENGER All hail! ye victors, maidens of Mycenae, to all Orestes'\nfriends his triumph I announce; Aegisthus, the murderer of Agamemnon,\nlies weltering where he fell; return thanks to heaven.\nELECTRA Who art thou? What proof dost thou give of this?\nMESSENGER Look at me, dost thou not recognize thy brother's servant?\nELECTRA O best of friends! 'twas fear that prevented me from recognizing\nthee; now I know thee well. What sayst thou? Is my father's hateful\nmurderer slain?\nMESSENGER He is; I repeat it since it is thy wish.\nLEADER Ye gods, and justice, whose eye is on all, at last art thou\ncome.\nELECTRA I fain would learn the way and means my brother took to slay\nThyestes' son.\nMESSENGER After we had set out from this house, we struck into the\nbroad highroad, and came to the place where was the far-famed King\nof Mycenae. Now he was walking in a garden well-watered, culling a\nwreath of tender myrtle-sprays for his head, and when he saw us, he\ncalled out, \"All hail! strangers; who are ye? whence come ye? from\nwhat country?\" To him Orestes answered, \"We are from Thessaly, on\nour way to Alpheus' banks to sacrifice to Olympian Zeus.\" When Aegisthus\nheard that, he said, \"Ye must be my guests to-day, and share the feast,\nfor I am even now sacrificing to the Nymphs; and by rising with tomorrow's\nlight ye will be just as far upon your journey; now let us go within.\"\nTherewith he caught us by the hand and led us by the way; refuse we\ncould not; and when we were come to the house, he gave command: \"Bring\nwater for my guests to wash forthwith, that they may stand around\nthe altar near the laver.\" But Orestes answered, \"'Twas but now we\npurified ourselves and washed us clean in water from the river. So\nif we strangers are to join your citizens in sacrifice, we are ready,\nKing Aegisthus, and will not refuse.\" So ended they their private\nconference. Meantime the servants, that composed their master's bodyguard,\nlaid aside their weapons, and one and all were busied at their tasks.\nSome brought the bowl to catch the blood, others took up baskets,\nwhile others kindled fire and set cauldrons round about the altars,\nand the whole house rang. Then did thy mother's husband take the barley\nfor sprinkling, and began casting it upon the hearth with these words,\n\"Ye Nymphs, who dwell among the rocks, grant that I may often sacrifice\nwith my wife, the daughter of Tyndareus, within my halls, as happily\nas now, and ruin seize my foes!\" (whereby he meant Orestes and thyself)\n. But my master, lowering his voice, offered a different prayer,\nthat he might regain his father's house. Next Aegisthus took from\nbasket a long straight knife, and cutting off some of the calf's hair,\nlaid it with his right hand on the sacred fire, and then cut its throat\nwhen the servants had lifted it upon their shoulders, and thus addressed\nthy brother; \"Men declare that amongst the Thessalians this is counted\nhonourable, to cut up a bull neatly and to manage steeds. So take\nthe knife, sir stranger, and show us if rumour speaks true about the\nThessalians.\" Thereon Orestes seized the Dorian knife of tempered\nsteel and cast from his shoulders his graceful buckled robe; then\nchoosing Pylades to help him in his task, he made the servants withdraw,\nand catching the calf by the hoof, proceeded to lay bare its white\nflesh, with arm outstretched, and he flayed the hide quicker than\na runner ever finishes the two laps of the horses' race-course; next\nhe laid the belly open, and Aegisthus took the entrails in his hands\nand carefully examined them. Now the liver had no lobe, while the\nportal vein leading to the gall-bladder portended dangerous attack\non him who was observing it. Dark grows Aegisthus' brow, but my master\nasks, \"Why so despondent, good sir?\" Said he, \"I fear treachery from\na stranger. Agamemnon's son of all men most I hate, and he hates my\nhouse.\" But Orestes cried, \"What! fear treachery from an exile! thou\nthe ruler of the city? Ho! take this Dorian knife away and bring me\na Thessalian cleaver, that we by sacrificial feast may learn the will\nof heaven; let me cleave the breast-bone.\" And he took the axe and\ncut it through. Now Aegisthus was examining the entrails, separating\nthem in his hands, and as he was bending down, thy brother rose on\ntiptoe and smote him on the spine, severing the bones of his back;\nand his body gave one convulsive shudder from head to foot and writhed\nin the death-agony. No sooner did his servants see it, than they rushed\nto arms, a host to fight with two; yet did Pylades and Orestes of\ntheir valiancy meet them with brandished spears. Then cried Orestes,\n\"I am no foe that come against this city and my own servants, but\nI have avenged me on the murderer of my sire, I, ill-starred Orestes.\nSlay me not, my father's former thralls!\" They, when they heard him\nspeak, restrained their spears, and an old man, who had been in the\nfamily many a long year, recognized him. Forthwith they crown thy\nbrother with a wreath, and utter shouts of joy. And lo! he is coming\nto show thee the head, not the Gorgon's, but the head of thy hated\nfoe Aegisthus; his death today has paid in blood a bitter debt of\nblood.\nCHORUS (singing) Dear mistress, now with step as light as fawn join\nin the dance; lift high the nimble foot and be glad. Victory crowns\nthy brother; he hath won a fairer wreath than ever victor gained beside\nthe streams of Alpheus; so raise a fair hymn to victory, the while\nI dance.\nELECTRA O light of day! O bright careering sun! O earth! and night\nerewhile my only day; now may I open my eyes in freedom, for Aegisthus\nis dead, my father's murderer. Come friends, let me bring out whate'er\nmy house contains to deck his head and wreath with crowns my conquering\nbrother's brow.\nCHORUS (singing) Bring forth thy garlands for his head, and we will\nlead the dance the Muses love. Now shall the royal line, dear to us\nin days gone by, resume its sway o'er the realm, having laid low the\nusurper as he deserves. So let the shout go up, whose notes are those\nof joy. (ORESTES and PYLADES enter, followed by attendants who are\nbearing the body of Aegisthus.)\nELECTRA Hail! glorious victor, Orestes, son of a sire who won the\nday 'neath Ilium's walls, accept this wreath to bind about the tresses\nof thy hair. Not in vain hast thou run thy course unto the goal and\nreached thy home again; no! but thou hast slain thy foe, Aegisthus,\nthe murderer of our father. Thou too, O Pylades, trusty squire, whose\ntraining shows thy father's sterling worth, receive a garland from\nmy hand, for thou no less than he hast a share in this emprise; and\nso I pray, good luck be thine for ever!\nORESTES First recognize the gods, Electra, as being the authors of\nour fortune, and then praise me their minister and fate's. Yea, I\ncome from having slain Aegisthus in very deed, no mere pretence; and\nto make thee the more certain of this, I am bringing thee his corpse,\nwhich, if thou wilt, expose for beasts to rend, or set it upon a stake\nfor birds, the children of the air, to prey upon; for now is he thy\nslave, once called thy lord and master.\nELECTRA I am ashamed to utter my wishes.\nORESTES What is it? speak out, for thou art through the gates of\nfear.\nELECTRA I am ashamed to flout the dead, for fear some spite assail\nme.\nORESTES No one would blame thee for this.\nELECTRA Our folk are hard to please, and love to blame.\nORESTES Speak all thy mind, sister; for we entered on this feud with\nhim on terms admitting not of truce.\nELECTRA Enough! (Turning to the corpse of Aegisthus) With which\nof thy iniquities shall I begin my recital? With which shall I end\nit? To which allot a middle place? And yet I never ceased, as each\nday dawned, to rehearse the story I would tell thee to thy face, if\never I were freed from my old terrors; and now I am; so I will pay\nthee back with the abuse I fain had uttered to thee when alive. Thou\nwert my ruin, making me and my brother orphans, though we had never\ninjured thee, and thou didst make a shameful marriage with my mother,\nhaving slain her lord who led the host of Hellas, though thyself didst\nnever go to Troy. Such was thy folly, thou didst never dream that\nmy mother would prove thy curse when thou didst marry her, though\nthou wert wronging my father's honour. Know this; whoso defiles his\nneighbour's wife, and afterward is forced to take her to himself,\nis a wretched wight, if he supposes she will be chaste as his wife,\nthough she sinned against her former lord. Thine was a life most miserable,\nthough thou didst pretend 'twas otherwise; well thou knewest how guilty\nthy marriage was, and my mother knew she had a villain for husband.\nSinners both ye took each other's lot, she thy fortune, thou her curse.\nWhile everywhere in Argos thou-wouldst hear such phrases as, \"that\nwoman's husband,\" never \"that man's wife.\" Yet 'tis shameful for the\nwife and not the man to rule the house; wherefore I loathe those children,\nwho are called in the city not the sons of the man, their father,\nbut of their mother. For if a man makes a great match above his rank,\nthere is no talk of the husband but only of the wife. Herein lay thy\ngrievous error, due to ignorance; thou thoughtest thyself some one,\nrelying on thy wealth, but this is naught save to stay with us a space.\n'Tis nature that stands fast, not wealth. For it, if it abide unchanged,\nexalts man's horn; but riches dishonestly acquired and in the hands\nof fools, soon take their flight, their blossom quickly shed. As for\nthy sins with women, I pass them by, 'tis not for maiden's lips to\nmention them, but I will shrewdly hint thereat. And then thy arrogance!\nbecause forsooth thou hadst a palace and some looks to boast. May\nI never have a husband with a girl's face, but one that bears him\nlike a man! For the children of these latter cling to a life of arms,\nwhile those, who are so fair to see, do only serve to grace the dance.\nAway from me! (Spurning the corpse with her foot) Time has shown\nthy villainy, little as thou reckest of the forfeit thou hast paid\nfor it. Let none suppose, though he have run the first stage of his\ncourse with joy, that he will get the better of justice, till he have\nreached the goal and ended his career.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Terrible alike his crime and your revenge; for\nmighty is the power of justice.\nORESTES 'Tis well. Carry his body within the house and hide it, sirrahs,\nthat when my mother comes, she may not see his corpse before she is\nsmitten herself. (PYLADES and the attendants take the body into the\nhut.)\nELECTRA Hold! let us strike out another scheme.\nORESTES How now? Are those allies from Mycenae whom I see?\nELECTRA No, 'tis my mother, that bare me.\nORESTES Full into the net she is rushing, oh, bravely!\nELECTRA See how proudly she rides in her chariot and fine robes!\nORESTES What must we do to our mother? Slay her?\nELECTRA What! has pity seized thee at sight of her?\nORESTES O God! how can I slay her that bare and suckled me?\nELECTRA Slay her as she slew thy father and mine.\nORESTES O Phoebus, how foolish was thy oracle-\nELECTRA Where Apollo errs, who shall be wise?\nORESTES In bidding me commit this crime-my mother's murder!\nELECTRA How canst thou be hurt by avenging thy father?\nORESTES Though pure before, I now shall carry into exile the stain\nof a mother's blood.\nELECTRA Still, if thou avenge not thy father, thou wilt fail in thy\nduty.\nORESTES And if I slay my mother, I must pay the penalty to her.\nELECTRA And so must thou to him, if thou resign the avenging of our\nfather.\nORESTES Surely it was a fiend in the likeness of the god that ordered\nthis!\nELECTRA Seated on the holy tripod? I think not so.\nORESTES I cannot believe this oracle was meant.\nELECTRA Turn not coward! Cast not thy manliness away!\nORESTES Am I to devise the same crafty scheme for her?\nELECTRA The self-same death thou didst mete out to her lord Aegisthus.\nORESTES I will go in; 'tis an awful task I undertake; an awful deed\nI have to do; still if it is Heaven's will, be it so; I loathe and\nyet I love the enterprise. (As ORESTES withdraws into the hut, CLYTEMNESTRA\nenters in a chariot. Her attendants are hand-maidens attired in gorgeous\napparel.)\nCHORUS (singing) Hail! Queen of Argos, daughter of Tyndareus, sister\nof those two noble sons of Zeus, who dwell in the flame-lit firmament\namid the stars, whose guerdon high it is to save the sailor tossing\non the sea. All hail! because of thy wealth and high prosperity, I\ndo thee homage as I do the blessed gods. Now is the time, great queen,\nfor us to pay our court unto thy fortunes.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Alight from the car, ye Trojan maids, and take my hand\nthat I may step down from the chariot. With Trojan spoils the temples\nof the gods are decked, but I have obtained these maidens as a special\ngift from Troy, in return for my lost daughter, a trifling boon no\ndoubt, but still an ornament to my house.\nELECTRA And may not I, mother, take that highly-favoured hand of\nthine? I am a slave like them, an exile from my father's halls in\nthis miserable abode.\nCLYTEMNESTRA See, my servants are here; trouble not on my account.\nELECTRA Why, thou didst make me thy prisoner by robbing me of my\nhome; like these I became a captive when my home was taken, an orphan\nall forlorn.\nCLYTEMNESTRA True; but thy father plotted so wickedly against those\nof his own kin whom least of all he should have treated so. Speak\nI must; albeit, when woman gets an evil reputation, there is a feeling\nof bitterness against all she says; unfairly indeed in my case, for\nit were only fair to hate after learning the circumstances, and seeing\nif the object deserves it; otherwise, why hate at all? Now Tyndareus\nbestowed me on thy father not that I or any children I might bear\nshould be slain. Yet he went and took my daughter from our house to\nthe fleet at Aulis, persuading me that Achilles was to wed her; and\nthere he held her o'er the pyre, and cut Iphigenia's snowy throat.\nHad he slain her to save his city from capture, or to benefit his\nhouse, or to preserve his other children, a sacrifice of one for many,\ncould have pardoned him. But, as it was, his reasons for murdering\nmy child were these: the wantonness of Helen and her husband's folly\nin not punishing the traitress. Still, wronged as I was, my rage had\nnot burst forth for this, nor would I have slain my lord, had he not\nreturned to me with that frenzied maiden and made her his mistress,\nkeeping at once two brides beneath the same roof. Women maybe are\ngiven to folly, I do not deny it; this granted, when a husband goes\nastray and sets aside his own true wife, she fain will follow his\nexample and find another love; and then in our case hot abuse is heard,\nwhile the men, who are to blame for this, escape without a word. Again,\nsuppose Menelaus had been secretly snatched from his home, should\nI have had to kill Orestes to save Menelaus, my sister's husband?\nHow would thy father have endured this? Was he then to escape death\nfor slaying what was mine, while I was to suffer at his hands? I slew\nhim, turning, as my only course, to his enemies. For which of all\nthy father's friends would have joined me in his murder? Speak all\nthat is in thy heart, and prove against me with all free speech, that\nthy father's death was not deserved.\nELECTRA Justly urged! but thy justice is not free from shame; for\nin all things should every woman of sense yield to her husband. Whoso\nthinketh otherwise comes not within the scope of what I say. Remember,\nmother, those last words of thine, allowing me free utterance before\nthee.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Daughter, far from refusing it, I grant it again.\nELECTRA Thou wilt not, when thou hearest, wreak thy vengeance on\nme?\nCLYTEMNESTRA No, indeed; I shall welcome thy opinion.\nELECTRA Then will I speak, and this shall be the prelude of my speech:\nAh, mother mine! would thou hadst had a better heart; for though thy\nbeauty and Helen's win you praises well deserved, yet are ye akin\nin nature, pair of wantons, unworthy of Castor. She was carried off,\n'tis true, but her fall was voluntary: and thou hast slain the bravest\nsoul in Hellas, excusing thyself on the ground that thou didst kill\na husband to avenge a daughter; the world does not know thee so well\nas I do, thou who before ever thy daughter's death was decided, yea,\nsoon as thy lord had started from his home, wert combing thy golden\ntresses at thy mirror. That wife who, when her lord is gone from home,\nsets to beautifying herself, strike off from virtue's list; for she\nhas no need to carry her beauty abroad, save she is seeking some mischief.\nOf all the wives in Hellas thou wert the only one I know who wert\noverjoyed when Troy's star was in the ascendant, while, if it set,\nthy brow was clouded, since thou hadst no wish that Agamemnon should\nreturn from Troy. And yet thou couldst have played a virtuous part\nto thy own glory. The husband thou hadst was no whit inferior to Aegisthus,\nfor he it was whom Hellas chose to be her captain. And when thy sister\nHelen wrought that deed of shame, thou couldst have won thyself great\nglory, for vice is a warning and calls attention to virtue. If, as\nthou allegest, my father slew thy daughter, what is the wrong I and\nmy brother have done thee? How was it thou didst not bestow on us\nour father's halls after thy husband's death, instead of bartering\nthem to buy a paramour? Again, thy husband is not exiled for thy son's\nsake, nor is he slain to avenge my death, although by him this life\nis quenched twice as much as e'er my sister's was; so if murder is\nto succeed murder in requital, I and thy son Orestes must slay thee\nto avenge our father; if that was just, why so is this. Whoso fixes\nhis gaze on wealth or noble birth and weds a wicked woman, is a fool;\nbetter is a humble partner in his home, if she be virtuous, than a\nproud one.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Chance rules the marriages of women; some I\nsee turn out well, others ill amongst mankind.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Daughter, 'twas ever thy nature to love thy father.\nThis too one finds; some sons cling to their father, others have a\ndeeper affection for their mother. I will forgive thee, for myself\nam not so exceeding glad at the deed that I have done, my child. But\nthou,-why thus unwashed and clad in foul attire, now that the days\nof thy lying-in are accomplished? Ah me, for my sorry schemes! I have\ngoaded my husband into anger more than e'er I should have done.\nELECTRA Thy sorrow comes too late; the hour of remedy has gone from\nthee; my father is dead. Yet why not recall that exile, thy own wandering\nson?\nCLYTEMNESTRA I am afraid; 'tis my interest, not his that I regard.\nFor they say he is wroth for his father's murder.\nELECTRA Why, then, dost thou encourage thy husband's bitterness against\nus?\nCLYTEMNESTRA 'Tis his way; thou too hast a stubborn nature.\nELECTRA Because I am grieved; yet will I check my spirit.\nCLYTEMNESTRA I promise then he shall no longer oppress thee.\nELECTRA From living in my home he grows too proud.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Now there! 'tis thou that art fanning the quarrel into\nnew life.\nELECTRA I say no more; my dread of him is even what it is.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Peace! Enough of this. Why didst thou summon me, my\nchild?\nELECTRA Thou hast heard, I suppose, of my confinement; for this I\npray thee, since I know not how, offer the customary sacrifice on\nthe tenth day after birth, for I am a novice herein, never having\nhad a child before.\nCLYTEMNESTRA This is work for another, even for her who delivered\nthee.\nELECTRA I was all alone in my travail and at the babe's birth.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Dost live so far from neighbours?\nELECTRA No one cares to make the poor his friends.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Well, I will go to offer to the gods a sacrifice for\nthe child's completion of the days; and when I have done thee this\nservice, I will seek the field where my husband is sacrificing to\nthe Nymphs. Take this chariot hence, my servants, and tie the horses\nto the stalls; and when ye think that I have finished my offering\nto the gods, attend me, for I must likewise pleasure my lord. (She\ngoes into the hut.)\nELECTRA Enter our humble cottage; but, prithee, take care that my\nsmoke grimed walls soil not thy robes; now wilt thou offer to the\ngods a fitting sacrifice. There stands the basket ready, and the knife\nis sharpened, the same that slew the bull, by whose side thou soon\nwilt lie a corpse; and thou shalt be his bride in Hades' halls whose\nwife thou wast on earth. This is the boon I will grant thee, while\nthou shalt pay me for my father's blood. (ELECTRA follows her into\nthe hut.)\nCHORUS (chanting, strophe)\nMisery is changing sides; the breeze veers round, and now blows fair\nupon my house. The day is past when my chief fell murdered in his\nbath, and the roof and the very stones of the walls rang with this\nhis cry: \"O cruel wife, why art thou murdering me on my return to\nmy dear country after ten long years?\"\n(antistrophe)\nThe tide is turning, and justice that pursues the faithless wife\nis drawing within its grasp the murderess, who slew her hapless lord,\nwhen he came home at last to these towering Cyclopean walls,-aye,\nwith her own hand she smote him with the sharpened steel, herself\nthe axe uplifting. Unhappy husband! whate'er the curse that possessed\nthat wretched woman. Like a lioness of the hills that rangeth through\nthe woodland for her prey, she wrought the deed.\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) O my children, by Heaven I pray ye spare your\nmother.\nCHORUS (chanting) Dost hear her cries within the house?\nCLYTEMNESTRA O God! ah me!\nCHORUS (chanting) I too bewail thee, dying by thy children's hands.\nGod deals out His justice in His good time. A cruel fate is thine,\nunhappy one; yet didst thou sin in murdering thy lord. (ORESTES and\nELECTRA come out of the hut, followed by attendants who are carrying\nthe two corpses. The following lines between ELECTRA, ORESTES and\nthe CHORUS are chanted.) But lo! from the house they come, dabbled\nin their mother's fresh-spilt gore, their triumph proving the piteous\nbutchery. There is not nor ever has been a race more wretched than\nthe line of Tantalus.\nORESTES O Earth, and Zeus whose eye is over all! behold this foul\ndeed of blood, these two corpses lying here that I have slain in vengeance\nfor my sufferings.\nELECTRA Tears are all too weak for this, brother; and I am the guilty\ncause. Ah, woe is me! How hot my fury burned against the mother that\nbare me!\nORESTES Alas! for thy lot, O mother mine! A piteous, piteous doom,\naye, worse than that, hast thou incurred at children's hands! Yet\njustly hast thou paid forfeit for our father's blood. Ah, Phoebus!\nthine was the voice that praised this vengeance; thou it is that hast\nbrought these hideous scenes to light, and caused this deed of blood.\nTo what city can I go henceforth? what friend, what man of any piety\nwill bear the sight of a mother's murderer like me?\nELECTRA Ah me! alas! and whither can I go? What share have I henceforth\nin dance or marriage rite? What husband will accept me as his bride?\nORESTES Again thy fancy changes with the wind; for now thou thinkest\naright, though not so formerly; an awful deed didst thou urge thy\nbrother against his will to commit, dear sister. Oh! didst thou see\nhow the poor victim threw open her robe and showed her bosom as smote\nher, sinking on her knees, poor wretch? And her hair I-\nELECTRA Full well I know the agony through which thou didst pass\nat hearing thy own mother's bitter cry.\nORESTES Ah yes! she laid her band upon my chin, and cried aloud,\n\"My child, I entreat thee!\" and she clung about my neck, so that I\nlet fall the sword.\nELECTRA O my poor mother! How didst thou endure to see her breathe\nher last before thy eyes?\nORESTES I threw my mantle o'er them and began the sacrifice by plunging\nthe sword into my mother's throat.\nELECTRA Yet 'twas I that urged thee on, yea, and likewise grasped\nthe steel. Oh! I have done an awful deed.\nORESTES Oh! take and hide our mother's corpse beneath a pall, and\nclose her gaping wound. (Turning to the corpse) Ah! thy murderers\nwere thine own children.\nELECTRA (covering the corpse) There! thou corpse both loved and\nloathed; still o'er thee I cast robe, to end the grievous troubles\nof our house.\nCHORUS See! where o'er the roof-top spirits are appearing, or gods\nmaybe from heaven, for this is not a road that mortals tread. Why\ncome they thus where mortal eyes can see them clearly? (THE DIOSCURI\nappear from above.)\nDIOSCURI Hearken, son of Agamemnon. We, the twin sons of Zeus, thy\nmother's sisters, call thee, even Castor and his brother Polydeuces.\n'Tis but now we have reached Argos after stilling the fury of the\nsea for mariners, having seen the slaying of our sister, thy mother.\nShe hath received her just reward, but thine is no righteous act,\nand Phoebus-but no! he is my king, my lips are sealed-is Phoebus still,\nalbeit the oracle he gave thee was no great proof of his wsdom. But\nwe must acquiesce herein. Henceforth must thou follow what Zeus and\ndestiny ordain for thee. On Pylades bestow Electra for his wife to\ntake unto his home; do thou leave Argos, for after thy mother's murder\nthou mayst not set foot in the city. And those grim goddesses of doom,\nthat glare like savage hounds, will drive thee mad and chase thee\nto and fro; but go thou to Athens and make thy prayer to the holy\nimage of Pallas, for she will close their fierce serpents' mouths,\nso that they touch thee not, holding o'er thy head her aegis with\nthe Gorgon's head. A hill there is, to Ares sacred, where first the\ngods in conclave sat to decide the law of blood, in the day that savage\nAres slew Halirrothius, son of the ocean-king, in anger for the violence\nhe offered to his daughter's honour; from that time all decisions\ngiven there are most holy and have heaven's sanction. There must thou\nhave this murder tried; and if equal votes are given, they shall save\nthee from death in the decision, for Loxias will take the blame upon\nhimself, since it was his oracle that advised thy mother's murder.\nAnd this shall be the law for all posterity; in every trial the accused\nshall win his case if the votes are equal. Then shall those dread\ngoddesses, stricken with grief at this, vanish into a cleft of the\nearth close to the hill, revered by men henceforth as a place for\nholy oracles; whilst thou must settle in a city of Arcadia on the\nbanks of the river Alpheus near the shrine of Lycaean Apollo, and\nthe city shall be called after thy name. To thee I say this. As for\nthe corpse of Aegisthus, the citizens of Argos must give it burial;\nbut Menelaus, who has just arrived at Nauplia from the sack of Troy,\nshall bury the, mother, Helen helping him; for she hath come from\nher sojourn in Egypt in the halls of Proteus, and hath never been\nto Troy; but Zeus, to stir up strife and bloodshed in the world, sent\nforth a phantom of Helen to Ilium. Now let Pylades take his maiden\nwife and bear her to his home in Achaea; also he must conduct thy\nso-called kinsman to the land of Phocis, and there reward him well.\nBut go thyself along the narrow Isthmus, and seek Cecropia's happy\nhome. For once thou hast fulfilled the doom appointed for this murder,\nthou shalt be blest and free from all thy troubles. (The remaining\nlines of the play are chanted.)\nCHORUS Ye sons of Zeus, may we draw near to speak with you?\nDIOSCURI Ye may, since ye are not polluted by this murder.\nORESTES May I too share your converse, of Tyndareus?\nDIOSCURI Thou too! for to Phoebus will I ascribe this deed of blood.\nCHORUS How was it that ye, the brothers of the murdered woman, gods\ntoo, did not ward the doom-goddesses from her roof?\nDIOSCURI 'Twas fate that brought resistless doom to her, and that\nthoughtless oracle that Phoebus gave.\nELECTRA But why did the god, and wherefore did his oracles make me\nmy mother's murderer?\nDIOSCURI A share in the deed, a share in its doom; one ancestral\ncurse hath ruined both of you.\nORESTES Ah, sister mine! at last I see thee again only to be robbed\nin moment of thy dear love; I must leave thee, and by thee be left.\nDIOSCURI Hers are a husband and a home; her only suffering this,\nthat she is quitting Argos.\nORESTES Yet what could call forth deeper grief than exile from one's\nfatherland? I must leave my father's house, and at a stranger's bar\nhe sentenced for my mother's blood.\nDIOSCURI Be of good cheer; go to the holy town of Pallas; keep a\nstout heart only.\nELECTRA O my brother, best and dearest! clasp me to thy breast; for\nnow is the curse of our mother's blood cutting us off from the home\nof our fathers.\nORESTES Throw thy arms in close embrace about me. Oh! weep as o'er\nmy grave when I am dead.\nDIOSCURI Ah me, that bitter cry makes even gods shudder to hear.\nYea, for in my breast and in every heavenly being's dwells pity for\nthe sorrows of mankind.\nORESTES Never to see thee more!\nELECTRA Never again to stand within thy sight!\nORESTES This is my last good-bye to thee.\nELECTRA Farewell, farewell, my city! and ye my fellow-countrywomen,\nlong farewell to you!\nORESTES Art thou going already, truest of thy sex?\nELECTRA I go, the tear-drop dimming my tender eyes.\nORESTES Go, Pylades, and be happy; take and wed Electra.\nDIOSCURI Their only thoughts will be their marriage; but haste thee\nto Athens, seeking to escape these hounds of hell, for they are on\nthy track in fearful wise, swart monsters, with snakes for hands,\nwho reap a harvest of man's agony. But we twain must haste away o'er\nthe Sicilian main to save the seaman's ship. Yet as we fly through\nheaven's expanse we help not the wicked; but whoso in his life loves\npiety and justice, all such we free from troublous toils and save.\nWherefore let no man be minded to act unjustly, or with men foresworn\nset sail; such the warning I, a god, to mortals give. (THE DIOSCURI\nvanish.)\nCHORUS Farewell! truly that mortal's is a happy lot, who can thus\nfare, unafflicted by any woe.\nTHE END","title":"Electra, By Euripides","type":"page"}