{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/soph/electra.htm","path":"cla/soph/electra.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/soph/electra.htm","text":"Dramatis Personae\nORESTES, son of Agamemnon and CLYTEMNESTRA\nELECTRA, sister of ORESTES\nCHRYSOTHEMIS, sister of ORESTES\nAN OLD MAN, formerly the PAEDAGOGUS or Attendant Of ORESTES\nCLYTEMNESTRA\nAEGISTHUS\nCHORUS OF WOMEN OF MYCENAE\nMute Persons\nPYLADES, son of Strophius, King of Crisa, the friend Of\nORESTES.\nA handmaid of CLYTEMNESTRA. Two attendants of ORESTES\nAt Mycenae, before the palace of the Pelopidae. It is morning and\nthe new-risen sun is bright. The PAEDAGOGUS enters on the left of\nthe spectators, accompanied by the two youths, ORESTES and\nPYLADES.\nPAEDAGOGUS Son of him who led our hosts at Troy of old, son of Agamemnon!-\nnow thou mayest behold with thine eyes all that thy soul hath desired\nso long. There is the ancient Argos of thy yearning,- that hallowed\nscene whence the gadfly drove the daughter of Inachus; and there,\nOrestes, is the Lycean Agora, named from the wolf-slaying god; there,\non the left, Hera's famous temple; and in this place to which we have\ncome, deem that thou seest Mycenae rich in gold, with the house of\nthe Pelopidae there, so often stained with bloodshed; whence I carried\nthee of yore, from the slaying of thy father, as thy kinswoman, thy\nsister, charged me; and saved thee, and reared thee up to manhood,\nto be the avenger of thy murdered sire.\nNow, therefore, Orestes, and thou, best of friends, Pylades, our plans\nmust be laid quickly; for lo, already the sun's bright ray is waking\nthe songs of the birds into clearness, and the dark night of stars\nis spent. Before, then, anyone comes forth from the house, take counsel;\nseeing that the time allows not of delay, but is full ripe for deeds.\nORESTES True friend and follower, how well dost thou prove thy loyalty\nto our house! As a steed of generous race, though old, loses not courage\nin danger, but pricks his ear, even so thou urgest us forward, and\nart foremost in our support. I will tell thee, then, what I have determined;\nlisten closely to my words, and correct me, if I miss the mark in\naught.\nWhen I went to the Pythian oracle, to learn how I might avenge my\nfather on his murderers, Phoebus gave me the response which thou art\nnow to hear:- that alone, and by stealth, without aid of arms or numbers,\nI should snatch the righteous vengeance of my hand. Since, then, the\ngod spake to us on this wise, thou must go into yonder house, when\nopportunity gives thee entrance, and learn all that is passing there,\nso that thou mayest report to us from sure knowledge. Thine age, and\nthe lapse of time, will prevent them from recognising thee; they will\nnever suspect who thou art, with that silvered hair. Let thy tale\nbe that thou art a Phocian stranger, sent by Phanoteus; for he is\nthe greatest of their allies. Tell them, and confirm it with thine\noath, that Orestes hath perished by a fatal chance,- hurled at the\nPythian games from his rapid chariot; be that the substance of thy\nstory.\nWe, meanwhile, will first crown my father's tomb, as the god enjoined,\nwith drink-offerings and the luxuriant tribute of severed hair; then\ncome back, bearing in our hands an urn of shapely bronze,-now hidden\nin the brushwood, as I think thou knowest,- so to gladden them with\nthe false tidings that this my body is no more, but has been consumed\nwith fire and turned to ashes. Why should the omen trouble me, when\nby a feigned death I find life indeed, and win renown? I trow, no\nword is ill-omened, if fraught with gain. Often ere now have I seen\nwise men die in vain report; then, when they return home, they are\nheld in more abiding honour: as I trust that from this rumour I also\nshall emerge in radiant life, and yet shine like a star upon my foes.\nO my fatherland, and ye gods of the land, receive me with good fortune\nin this journey,- and ye also, halls of my fathers, for I come with\ndivine mandate to cleanse you righteously; send me not dishonoured\nfrom the land, but grant that I may rule over my possessions, and\nrestore my house!\nEnough;- be it now thy care, old man, to go and heed thy task; and\nwe twain will go forth; for so occasion bids, chief ruler of every\nenterprise for men.\nELECTRA (within) Ah me, ah me!\nPAEDAGOGUS Hark, my son,- from the doors, methought, came the sound\nof some handmaid moaning within.\nORESTES Can it be the hapless Electra? Shall we stay here, and listen\nto her laments?\nPAEDAGOGUS No, no: before all else, let us seek to obey the command\nof Loxias, and thence make a fair beginning, by pouring libations\nto thy sire; that brings victory within our grasp, and gives us the\nmastery in all that we do. (Exeunt PAEDAGOGUS on the spectators'\nleft, ORESTES and PYLADES the right.- Enter ELECTRA, from the house.\nShe is meanly clad.)\nELECTRA (chanting, systema)\nO thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth's canopy, how often have\nye heard the strains of my lament, the wild blows dealt against this\nbleeding breast, when dark night fails! And my wretched couch in yonder\nhouse of woe knows well, ere now, how I keep the watches of the night,-\nhow often I bewail my hapless sire; to whom deadly Ares gave not of\nhis gifts in a strange land, but my mother, and her mate Aegisthus,\ncleft his head with murderous axe, as woodmen fell an oak. And for\nthis no plaint bursts from any lip save mine, when thou, my father,\nhath died a death so cruel and so piteous!\n(antisystema)\nBut never will I cease from dirge and sore lament, while I look on\nthe trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day; but\nlike the nightingale, slayer of her offspring, I will wail without\nceasing, and cry aloud to all, here, at the doors of my father.\nO home of Hades and Persephone! O Hermes of the shades! potent Curse,\nand ye, dread daughters of the gods, Erinyes,- Ye who behold when\na life is reft by violence, when a bed is dishonoured by stealth,-\ncome, help me, avenge the murder of my sire,- and send to me my brother;\nfor I have no more the strength to bear up alone against the load\nof grief that weighs me down. (As ELECTRA finishes her lament, (the\nCHORUS OF WOMEN OF MYCENAE enter. The following) lines between ELECTRA\nand the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)\nCHORUS (strophe 1)\nAh, Electra, child of a wretched mother, why art thou ever pining\nthus in ceaseless lament for Agamemnon, who long ago was wickedly\nensnared by thy false mother's wiles, and betrayed to death by dastardly\nhand? Perish the author of that deed, if I may utter such prayer!\nELECTRA Ah, noble-hearted maidens, ye have come to soothe my woes.\nI know and feel it, it escapes me not; but I cannot leave this task\nundone, or cease from mourning for my hapless sire. Ah, friends whose\nlove responds to mine in every mood, leave me to rave thus,- Oh leave\nme, I entreat you!\nCHORUS (antistrophe 1)\nBut never by laments or prayers shalt thou recall thy sire from that\nlake of Hades to which all must pass. Nay, thine is a fatal course\nof grief, passing ever from due bounds into a cureless sorrow; wherein\nthere is no deliverance from evils. Say, wherefore art thou enamoured\nof misery?\nELECTRA Foolish is the child who forgets a parent's piteous death.\nNo, dearer to my soul is the mourner that laments for Itys, Itys,\nevermore, that bird distraught with grief, the messenger of Zeus.\nAh, queen of sorrow, Niobe, thee I deem divine,- thee, who evermore\nweepest in thy rocky tomb!\nCHORUS (strophe 2)\nNot to thee alone of mortals, my daughter, hath come any sorrow which\nthou bearest less calmly than those within, thy kinswomen and sisters,\nChrysothemis and Iphianassa,I who still live,- as he, too, lives,\nsorrowing in a secluded youth, yet happy in that this famous realm\nof Mycenae shall one day welcome him to his heritage, when the kindly\nguidance of Zeus shall have brought him to this land, Orestes.\nELECTRA Yes, I wait for him with unwearied longing, as I move on\nmy sad path from day to day, unwed and childless, bathed in tears,\nbearing that endless doom of woe; but he forgets all that he has suffered\nand heard. What message comes to me, that is not belied? He is ever\nyearning to be with us, but, though he yearns, he never resolves.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 2)\nCourage, my daughter, courage; great still in heaven is Zeus, who\nsees and governs all: leave thy bitter quarrel to him; forget not\nthy foes, but refrain from excess of wrath against them; for Time\nis god who makes rough ways smooth. Not heedless is the son of Agamemnon,\nwho dwells by Crisa's pastoral shore; not heedless is the god who\nreigns by Acheron.\nELECTRA Nay, the best part of life hath passed away from me in hopelessness,\nand I have no strength left; I, who am pining away without children,-\nwhom no loving champion shields,- but, like some despised alien, I\nserve in the halls of my father, clad in this mean garb, and standing\nat a meagre board.\nCHORUS (strophe 3)\nPiteous was the voice heard at his return, and piteous, as thy sire\nlay on the festal couch, when the straight, swift blow was dealt him\nwith the blade of bronze. Guile was the plotter, Lust the slayer,\ndread parents of a dreadful shape; whether it was mortal that wrought\ntherein, or god.\nELECTRA O that bitter day, bitter beyond all that have come to me;\nO that night, O the horrors of that unutterable feast, the ruthless\ndeathstrokes that my father saw from the hands of twain, who took\nmy life captive by treachery, who doomed me to woe! May the great\ngod of Olympus give them sufferings in requital, and never may their\nsplendour bring them joy, who have done such deeds!\nCHORUS (antistrophe 3)\nBe advised to say no more; canst thou not see what conduct it is\nwhich already plunges thee so cruelly in self-made miseries? Thou\nhast greatly aggravated thy troubles, ever breeding wars with thy\nsullen soul; but such strife should not be pushed to a conflict with\nthe strong.\nELECTRA I have been forced to it,- forced by dread causes; I know\nmy own passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the causes are\nso dire, will never curb these frenzied plaints, while life is in\nme. Who indeed, ye kindly sisterhood, who that thinks aright, would\ndeem that any word of solace could avail me? Forbear, forbear, my\ncomforters! Such ills must be numbered with those which have no cure;\nI can never know a respite from my sorrows, or a limit to this wailing.\nCHORUS (epode)\nAt least it is in love, like a true-hearted mother, that I dissuade\nthee from adding misery to miseries.\nELECTRA But what measure is there in my wretchedness? Say, how can\nit be right to neglect the dead? Was that impiety ever born in mortal?\nNever may I have praise of such; never when my lot is cast in pleasant\nplaces, may I cling to selfish ease, or dishonour my sire by restraining\nthe wings of shrill lamentation!\nFor if the hapless dead is to lie in dust and nothingness, while the\nslayers pay not with blood for blood, all regard for man, all fear\nof heaven, will vanish from the earth.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS I came, my child, in zeal for thy welfare no\nless than for mine own; but if I speak not well, then be it as thou\nwilt; for we will follow thee.\nELECTRA I am ashamed, my friends, if ye deem me too impatient for\nmy oft complaining; but, since a hard constraint forces me to this,\nbear with me. How indeed could any woman of noble nature refrain,\nwho saw the calamities of a father's house, as I see them by day and\nnight continually, not fading, but in the summer of their strength?\nI, who, first, from the mother that bore me have found bitter enmity;\nnext, in mine own home I dwell with my father's murderers; they rule\nover me, and with them it rests to give or to withhold what I need.\nAnd then think what manner of days I pass, when I see Aegisthus sitting\non my father's throne, wearing the robes which he wore, and pouring\nlibations at the hearth where he slew my sire; and when I see the\noutrage that crowns all, the murderer in our father's bed at our wretched\nmother's side, if mother she should be called, who is his wife; but\nso hardened is she that she lives with that accursed one, fearing\nno Erinys; nay, as if exulting in her deeds, having found the day\non which she treacherously slew my father of old, she keeps it with\ndance and song, and month by month sacrifices sheep to the gods who\nhave wrought her deliverance.\nBut I, hapless one, beholding it, weep and pine in the house, and\nbewail the unholy feast named after my sire,- weep to myself alone;\nsince I may not even indulge my grief to the full measure of my yearning.\nFor this woman, in professions so noble, loudly upbraids me with such\ntaunts as these: 'Impious and hateful girl, hast thou alone lost a\nfather, and is there no other mourner in the world? An evil doom be\nthine, and may the gods infernal give thee no riddance from thy present\nlaments.'\nThus she insults; save when any one brings her word that Orestes is\ncoming: then, infuriated, she comes up to me, and cries;- 'Hast not\nthou brought this upon me? Is not this deed thine, who didst steal\nOrestes from my hands, and privily convey him forth? Yet be sure that\nthou shalt have thy due reward.' So she shrieks; and, aiding her,\nthe renowned spouse at her side is vehement in the same strain,- that\nabject dastard, that utter pest, who fights his battles with the help\nof women. But I, looking ever for Orestes to come and end these woes,\nlanguish in my misery. Always intending to strike a blow, he has worn\nout every hope that I could conceive. In such a case, then, friends,\nthere is no room for moderation or for reverence; in sooth, the stress\nof ills leaves no choice but to follow evil ways.\nLEADER Say, is Aegisthus near while thou speakest thus, or absent\nfrom home?\nELECTRA Absent, certainly; do not think that I should have come to\nthe doors, if he had been near; but just now he is afield.\nLEADER Might I converse with thee more freely, if this is so?\nELECTRA He is not here, so put thy question; what wouldst thou?\nLEADER I ask thee, then, what sayest thou of thy brother? Will he\ncome soon, or is he delaying? I fain would know.\nELECTRA He promises to come; but he never fulfils the promise.\nLEADER Yea, a man will pause on the verge of a great work.\nELECTRA And yet I saved him without pausing.\nLEADER Courage; he is too noble to fail his friends.\nELECTRA I believe it; or I should not have lived so long.\nLEADER Say no more now; for I see thy sister coming from the house,\nChrysothemis, daughter of the same sire and mother, with sepulchral\ngifts in her hands, such as are given to those in the world below.\n(CHRYSOTHEMIS enters from the palace. She is richly dressed.)\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Why, sister, hast thou come forth once more to declaim\nthus at the public doors? Why wilt thou not learn with any lapse of\ntime to desist from vain indulgence of idle wrath? Yet this I know,-\nthat I myself am- grieved at our plight; indeed, could I find the\nstrength, I would show what love I bear them. But now, in these troubled\nwaters, 'tis best, methinks, to shorten sail; I care not to seem active,\nwithout the power to hurt. And would that thine own conduct were the\nsame! Nevertheless, right is on the side of thy choice, not of that\nwhich I advise; but if I am to live in freedom, our rulers must be\nobeyed in all things.\nELECTRA Strange indeed, that thou, the daughter of such a sire as\nthine, shouldst forget him, and think only of thy mother! All thy\nadmonitions to me have been taught by her; no word is thine own. Then\ntake thy choice,- to be imprudent; or prudent, but forgetful of thy\nfriends: thou, who hast just said that, couldst thou find the strength,\nthou wouldst show thy hatred of them; yet, when I am doing my utmost\nto avenge my sire, thou givest no aid, but seekest to turn thy sister\nfrom her deed.\nDoes not this crown our miseries with cowardice? For tell me,- Or\nlet me tell thee,- what I should gain by ceasing from these laments?\nDo not live?- miserably, I know, yet well enough for me. And I vex\nthem, thus rendering honour to the dead, if pleasure can be felt in\nthat world. But thou, who tellest me of thy hatred, hatest in word\nalone, while in deeds thou art with the slayers of thy sire. I, then,\nwould never yield to them, though I were promised the gifts which\nnow make thee proud; thine be the richly-spread table and the life\nof luxury. For me, be it food enough that I do not wound mine own\nconscience; I covet not such privilege as thine,- nor wouldst thou,\nwert thou wise. But now, when thou mightest be called daughter of\nthe noblest father among men, be called the child of thy mother; so\nshall thy baseness be most widely seen, in betrayal of thy dead sire\nand of thy kindred.\nLEADER No angry word, I entreat! For both of you there is good in\nwhat is urged,- if thou, Electra, wouldst learn to profit by her counsel,\nand she, again, by thine.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS For my part, friends, I am not wholly unused to her\ndiscourse; nor should I have touched upon this theme, had I not heard\nthat she was threatened with a dread doom, which shall restrain her\nfrom her long-drawn laments.\nELECTRA Come, declare it then, this terror! If thou canst tell me\nof aught worse than my present lot, I will resist no more.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Indeed, I will tell thee all that I know. They purpose,\nif thou wilt not cease from these laments, to send thee where thou\nshalt never look upon the sunlight, but pass thy days in a dungeon\nbeyond the borders of this land, there to chant thy dreary strain.\nBethink thee, then, and do not blame me hereafter, when the blow hath\nfallen; now is the time to be wise.\nELECTRA Have they indeed resolved to treat me thus?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Assuredly, whenever Aegisthus comes home.\nELECTRA If that be all, then may he arrive with speed!\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Misguided one! what dire prayer is this?\nELECTRA That he may come, if he hath any such intent.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS That thou mayst suffer- what? Where are thy wits?\nELECTRA That I may fly as far as may be from you all.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS But hast thou no care for thy present life?\nELECTRA Aye, my life is marvellously fair.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS It might be, couldst thou only learn prudence.\nELECTRA Do not teach me to betray my friends.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS I do not,- but to bend before the strong.\nELECTRA Thine be such flattery: those are not my ways.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Tis well, however, not to fall by folly.\nELECTRA I will fall, if need be, in the cause of my sire.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS But our father, I know, pardons me for this.\nELECTRA It is for cowards to find peace in such maxims.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS So thou wilt not hearken, and take my counsel?\nELECTRA No, verily; long may be it before I am so foolish.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Then I will go forth upon mine errand.\nELECTRA And whither goest thou? To whom bearest thou these offerings?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Our mother sends me with funeral libations for our sire.\nELECTRA How sayest thou? For her deadliest foe?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Slain by her own hand- so thou wouldest say.\nELECTRA What friend hath persuaded her? Whose wish was this?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS The cause, I think, was some dread vision of the night.\nELECTRA Gods of our house! be ye with me- now at last!\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Dost thou find any encouragement in this terror?\nELECTRA If thou wouldst tell me the vision, then I could answer.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, I can tell but little of the story.\nELECTRA Tell what thou canst; a little word hath often marred, or\nmade, men's fortunes.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS 'Tis said that she beheld our sire, restored to the\nsunlight, at her side once more; then he took the sceptre,- Once his\nown, but now borne by Aegisthus,- and planted it at the hearth; and\nthence a fruitful bough sprang upward, wherewith the whole land of\nMycenae was overshadowed. Such was the tale that I heard told by one\nwho was present when she declared her dream to the Sun-god. More than\nthis I know not,- save that she sent me by reason of that fear. So\nby the- gods of our house I beseech thee, hearken to me, and be not\nruined by folly! For if thou repel me now, thou wilt come back to\nseek me in thy trouble.\nELECTRA Nay, dear sister, let none of these things in thy hands touch\nthe tomb; for neither custom nor piety allows thee to dedicate gifts\nor bring libations to our sire from a hateful wife. No- to the winds\nwith them or bury them deep in the earth, where none of them shall\never come near his place of rest; but, when she dies, let her find\nthese treasures laid up for her below.\nAnd were she not the most hardened of all women, she would never have\nsought to pour these offerings of enmity on the grave of him whom\nshe slew. Think now if it is likely that the dead in the tomb should\ntake these honours kindly at her hand, who ruthlessly slew him, like\na foeman, and mangled him, and, for ablution, wiped off the blood-stains\non his head? Canst thou believe that these things which thou bringest\nwill absolve her of the murder?\nIt is not possible. No, cast these things aside; give him rather a\nlock cut from thine own tresses, and on my part, hapless that I am,-scant\ngifts these, but my best,- this hair, not glossy with unguents, and\nthis girdle, decked with no rich ornament. Then fall down and pray\nthat he himself may come in kindness from the world below, to aid\nus against our foes; and that the young Orestes may live to set his\nfoot upon his foes in victorious might, that henceforth we may crown\nour father's tomb with wealthier hands than those which grace it now.\nI think, indeed, I think that he also had some part in sending her\nthese appalling dreams; still, sister, do this service, to help thyself,\nand me, and him, that most beloved of all men, who rests in the realm\nof Hades, thy sire and mine.\nLEADER The maiden counsels piously; and thou, friend, wilt do her\nbidding, if- thou art wise.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS I will. When a duty is clear, reason forbids that two\nvoices should contend, and claims the hastening of the deed. Only,\nwhen I attempt this task, aid me with your silence, I entreat you,\nmy friends; for, should my mother hear of it, methinks I shall yet\nhave cause to rue my venture. (CHRYSOTHEMIS departs, to take the\nofferings to Agamemnon's grave.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nIf I am not an erring seer and one who fails in wisdom, justice,\nthat hath sent the presage, will come, triumphant in her righteous\nstrength,- will come ere long, my child, to avenge. There is courage\nin my heart, through those new tidings of the dream that breathes\ncomfort. Not forgetful is thy sire, the lord of Hellas; not forgetful\nis the two-edged axe of bronze that struck the blow of old, and slew\nhim with foul cruelty.\n(antistrophe)\nThe Erinys of untiring feet, who is lurking in her dread ambush,\nwill come, as with the march and with the might of a great host. For\nwicked ones have been fired with passion that hurried them to a forbidden\nbed, to accursed bridals, to a marriage stained with guilt of blood.\nTherefore am I sure that the portent will not fail to bring woe upon\nthe partners in crime. Verily mortals cannot read the future in fearful\ndreams or oracles, if this vision of the night find not due fulfilment.\n(epode)\nO chariot-race of Pelops long ago, source of many a sorrow, what\nweary troubles hast thou brought upon this land! For since Myrtilus\nsank to rest beneath the waves, when a fatal and cruel hand hurled\nhim to destruction out of the golden car, this house was never yet\nfree from misery and violence. (CLYTEMNESTRA enters from the palace.)\nCLYTEMNESTRA At large once more, it seems, thou rangest,- for Aegisthus\nis not here, who always kept thee at least from passing the gates,\nto shame thy friends. But now, since he is absent, thou takest no\nheed of me, though thou hast said of me oft-times, and to many, that\nI am a bold and lawless tyrant, who insults thee and thine. I am guilty\nof no insolence; I do but return the taunts that I often hear from\nthee.\nThy father- this is thy constant pretext- was slain by me. Yes, by\nme- I know it well; it admits of no denial; for justice slew him,\nand not I alone,- justice, whom it became thee to support, hadst thou\nbeen right-minded; seeing that this father of thine, whom thou art\never lamenting, was the one man of the Greeks who had the heart to\nsacrifice thy sister to the gods- he, the father, who had not shared\nthe mother's pangs.\nCome, tell me now, wherefore, or to please whom, did he sacrifice\nher? To please the Argives, thou wilt say? Nay, they had no right\nto slay my daughter. Or if, forsooth, it was to screen his brother\nMenelaus that he slew my child, was he not to pay me the penalty for\nthat? Had not Menelaus two children, who should in fairness have been\ntaken before my daughter, as sprung from the sire and mother who had\ncaused that voyage? Or had Hades some strange desire to feast on my\noffspring, rather than on hers? Or had that accursed father lost all\ntenderness for the children of my womb, while he was tender to the\nchildren of Menelaus? Was not that the part of a callous and perverse\nparent? I think so, though differ from thy judgment; and so would\nsay the dead, if she could speak. For myself, then, I view the past\nwithout dismay; but if thou deemest me perverse, see that thine own\njudgment is just, before thou blame thy neighbour.\nELECTRA This time thou canst not say that I have done anything to\nprovoke such words from thee. But, if thou wilt give me leave, I fain\nwould declare the truth, in the cause alike of my dead sire and of\nmy sister.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Indeed, thou hast my leave; and didst thou always address\nme in such a tone, thou wouldst be heard without pain.\nELECTRA Then I will speak. Thou sayest that thou hast slain my father.\nWhat word could bring thee deeper shame than that, whether the deed\nwas just or not? But I must tell thee that thy deed was not just;\nno, thou wert drawn on to it by the wooing of the base man who is\nnow thy spouse.\nAsk the huntress Artemis what sin she punished when she stayed the\nfrequent winds at Aulis; or I will tell thee; for we may not learn\nfrom her. My father- so I have heard- was once disporting himself\nin the grove of the goddess, when his footfall startled a dappled\nand antlered stag; he shot it, and chanced to utter a certain boast\nconcerning its slaughter. Wroth thereat, the daughter of Leto detained\nthe Greeks, that, in quittance for the wild creature's life, my father\nshould yield up the life of his own child. Thus it befell that she\nwas sacrificed; since the fleet had no other release, homeward or\nto Troy; and for that cause, under sore constraint and with sore reluctance,\nat last he slew her- not for the sake of Menelaus.\nBut grant- for I will take thine own plea- grant that the motive of\nhis deed was to benefit his brother;- was that a reason for his dying\nby thy hand? Under what law? See that, in making such a law for men,\nthou make not trouble and remorse for thyself; for, if we are to take\nblood for blood, thou wouldst be the first to die, didst thou meet\nwith thy desert.\nBut look if thy pretext is not false. For tell me, if thou wilt, wherefore\nthou art now doing the most shameless deeds of all,- dwelling as wife\nwith that blood-guilty one, who first helped thee to slay my sire,\nand bearing children to him, while thou hast cast out the earlier-born,\nthe stainless offspring of a stainless marriage. How can I praise\nthese things? Or wilt thou say that this, too, is thy vengeance for\nthy daughter? Nay, shameful plea, if so thou plead; 'tis not well\nto wed an enemy for a daughter's sake.\nBut indeed I may not even counsel thee,- who shriekest that I revile\nmy mother; and truly I think that to me thou art less a mother than\nmistress; so wretched is the life that I live, ever beset with miseries\nby thee and by thy partner. And that other, who scarce escaped thy\nhand, the hapless Orestes, is wearing out his ill-starred days in\nexile. Often hast thou charged me with rearing him to punish thy crime;\nand I would have done so, if I could, thou mayst be sure:-for that\nmatter, denounce me to all, as disloyal, if thou wilt, or petulant,\nor impudent; for if I am accomplished in such ways, methinks I am\nno unworthy child of thee.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS I see that she breathes forth anger; but whether\njustice be with her, for this she seems to care no longer.\nCLYTEMNESTRA (to the CHORUS) And what manner of care do I need to\nuse against her, who hath thus insulted a mother, and this at her\nripe age? Thinkest thou not that she would go forward to any deed,\nwithout shame?\nELECTRA Now be assured that I do feel shame for this, though thou\nbelieve it not; I know that my behaviour is unseemly, and becomes\nme ill. But then the enmity on thy part, and thy treatment, compel\nme in mine own despite to do thus; for base deeds are taught by base.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Thou brazen one! Truly I and my sayings and my deeds\ngive thee too much matter for words.\nELECTRA The words are thine, not mine; for thine is the action; and\nthe acts find the utterance.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Now by our lady Artemis, thou shalt not fail to pay\nfor this boldness, so soon as Aegisthus returns.\nELECTRA Lo, thou art transported by anger, after granting me free\nspeech, aid hast no patience to listen.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Now wilt thou not hush thy clamour, or even suffer me\nto sacrifice, when I have permitted thee to speak unchecked?\nELECTRA I hinder not,- begin thy rites, I pray thee; and blame not\nmy voice, for I shall say no more.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Raise then, my handmaid, the offerings of many fruits,\nthat I may uplift my prayers to this our king, for deliverance from\nmy present fears. Lend now a gracious ear, O Phoebus our defender,\nto my words, though they be dark; for I speak not among friends, nor\nis it meet to unfold my whole thought to the light, while she stands\nnear me, lest with her malice and her garrulous cry she spread some\nrash rumour throughout the town: but hear me thus, since on this wise\nI must speak.\nThat vision which I saw last night in doubtful dreams- if it hath\ncome for my good, grant, Lycean king, that it be fulfilled; but if\nfor harm, then let it recoil upon my foes. And if any are plotting\nto hurl me by treachery from the high estate which now is mine, permit\nthem not; rather vouch. safe that, still living thus unscathed, I\nmay bear sway over the house of the Atreidae and this realm, sharing\nprosperous days with the friends who share them now, and with those\nof my children from whom no enmity or bitterness pursues me.\nO Lycean Apollo, graciously hear these prayers, and grant them to\nus all, even as we ask! For the rest, though I be silent, I deem that\nthou, a god, must know it; all things, surely, are seen by the sons\nof Zeus. (The PAEDAGOGUS enters.)\nPAEDAGOGUS Ladies, might a stranger crave to know if this be the\npalace of the king Aegisthus?\nLEADER It is, sir; thou thyself hast guessed aright.\nPAEDAGOGUS And am I right in surmising that this lady is his consort?\nShe is of queenly aspect.\nLEADER Assuredly; thou art in the presence of the queen.\nPAEDAGOGUS Hail, royal lady! I bring glad tidings to thee and to\nAegisthus, from friend.\nCLYTEMNESTRA I welcome the omen; but I would fain know from thee,\nfirst, who may have sent thee.\nPAEDAGOGUS Phanoteus the Phocian, on a weighty mission.\nCLYTEMNESTRA What is it, sir? Tell me: coming from a friend, thou\nwilt bring, I know; a kindly message.\nPAEDAGOGUS Orestes is dead; that is the sum.\nELECTRA Oh, miserable that I am! I am lost this day!\nCLYTEMNESTRA What sayest thou, friend, what sayest thou?- listen\nnot to her!\nPAEDAGOGUS I said, and say again- Orestes is dead.\nELECTRA I am lost, hapless one, I am undone!\nCLYTEMNESTRA (to ELECTRA) See thou to thine own concerns.- But do\nthou, sir, tell me exactly,-how did he perish?\nPAEDAGOGUS I was sent for that purpose, and will tell thee all. Having\ngone to the renowned festival, the pride of Greece, for the Delphian\ngames, when he heard the loud summons to the foot-race which was first\nto be decided, he entered the lists, a brilliant form, a wonder in\nthe eyes of all there; and, having finished his course at the point\nwhere it began, he went out with the glorious meed of victory. To\nspeak briefly, where there is much to tell, I know not the man whose\ndeeds and triumphs have matched his; but one thing thou must know;\nin all the contests that the judges announced, he bore away the prize;\nand men deemed him happy, as oft as the herald proclaimed him an Argive,\nby name Orestes, son of Agamemnon, who once gathered the famous armament\nof Greece.\nThus far, 'twas well; but, when a god sends harm, not even the strong\nman can escape. For, on another day, when chariots were to try their\nspeed at sunrise, he entered, with many charioteers. One was an Achaean,\none from Sparta, two masters of yoked cars were Libyans; Orestes,\ndriving Thessalian mares, came fifth among them; the sixth from Aetolia,\nwith chestnut colts; a Magnesian was the seventh; the eighth, with\nwhite horses, was of Aenian stock; the ninth, from Athens, built of\ngods; there was a Boeotian too, making the tenth chariot.\nThey took their stations where the appointed umpires placed them by\nlot and ranged the cars; then, at the sound of the brazen trump, they\nstarted. All shouted to their horses, and shook the reins in their\nhands; the whole course was filled with the noise of rattling chariots;\nthe dust flew upward; and all, in a confused throng, plied their goads\nunsparingly, each of them striving to pass the wheels and the snorting\nsteeds of his rivals; for alike at their backs and at their rolling\nwheels the breath of the horses foamed and smote.\nOrestes, driving close to the pillar at either end of the course,\nalmost grazed it with his wheel each time, and, giving rein to the\ntrace-horse on the right, checked the horse on the inner side. Hitherto,\nall the chariots had escaped overthrow; but presently the Aenian's\nhard-mouthed colts ran away, and, swerving, as they passed from the\nsixth into the seventh round, dashed their foreheads against the team\nof the Barcaean. Other mishaps followed the first, shock on shock\nand crash on crash, till the whole race-ground of Crisa was strewn\nwith the wreck of the chariots.\nSeeing this, the wary charioteer from Athens drew aside and paused,\nallowing the billow of chariots, surging in mid course, to go by.\nOrestes was driving last, keeping his horses behind,- for his trust\nwas in the end; but when he saw that the Athenian was alone left in,\nhe sent a shrill cry ringing through the ears of his swift colts,\nand gave chase. Team was brought level with team, and so they raced,-first\none man, then the other. showing his head in front of the chariots.\nHitherto the ill-fated Orestes had passed safely through every round,\nsteadfast in his steadfast car; at last, slackening his left rein\nwhile the horse was turning, unawares he struck the edge of the pillar;\nhe broke the axle-box in twain; he was thrown over the chariot-rail;\nhe was caught in the shapely reins; and, as he fell on the ground,\nhis colts were scattered into the middle of the course.\nBut when the people saw him fallen from the car, a cry of pity went\nup for the youth, who had done such deeds and was meeting such a doom,-\nnow dashed to earth, now tossed feet uppermost to the sky,- till the\ncharioteers, with difficulty checking the career of his horses, loosed\nhim, so covered with blood that no friend who saw it would have known\nthe hapless corpse. Straightway they burned it on a pyre; and chosen\nmen of Phocis are bringing in a small urn of bronze the sad dust of\nthat mighty form, to find due burial in his fatherland.\nSuch is my story,- grievous to hear, if words can grieve; but for\nus, who beheld, the greatest of sorrows that these eyes have seen.\nLEADER Alas, alas Now, methinks, the stock of our ancient masters\nhath utterly perished, root and branch.\nCLYTEMNESTRA O Zeus, what shall I call these tidings,- glad tidings?\nOr dire, but gainful? 'Tis a bitter lot, when mine own calamities\nmake the safety of my life.\nPAEDAGOGUS Why art thou so downcast, lady, at this news?\nCLYTEMNESTRA There is a strange power in motherhood; a mother may\nbe wronged, but she never learns to hate her child.\nPAEDAGOGUS Then it seems that we have come in vain.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Nay, not in vain; how canst thou say 'in vain,' when\nthou hast brought an sure proofs of his death?- His, who sprang from\nmine own life, yet, forsaking me who had suckled and reared him, became\nan exile and an alien; and, after he went out of this land, he saw\nme no more; but, charging me with the murder of his sire, he uttered\ndread threats against me; so that neither by night nor by day could\nsweet sleep cover mine eyes, but from moment to moment I lived in\nfear of death. Now, however-since this day I am rid of terror from\nhim, and from this girl,- that worse plague who shared my home, while\nstill she drained my very life-blood,-now, methinks, for aught that\nshe can threaten, I shall pass my days in peace.\nELECTRA Ah, woe is me! Now, indeed, Orestes, thy fortune may be lamented,\nwhen it is thus with thee, and thou art mocked by this thy mother!\nIs it not well?\nCLYTEMNESTRA Not with thee; but his state is well.\nELECTRA Hear, Nemesis of him who hath lately died!\nCLYTEMNESTRA She hath heard who should be heard, and hath ordained\nwell.\nELECTRA Insult us, for this is the time of thy triumph.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Then will not Orestes and thou silence me?\nELECTRA We are silenced; much less should we silence thee.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Thy coming, sir, would deserve large recompense, if\nthou hast hushed her clamorous tongue.\nPAEDAGOGUS Then I may take my leave, if all is well.\nCLYTEMNESTRA Not so; thy welcome would then be unworthy of me, and\nof the ally who sent thee. Nay, come thou in; and leave her without,\nto make loud lament for herself and for her friends. (CLYTEMNESTRA\nand the PAEDAGOGUS enter the palace.)\nELECTRA How think ye? Was there not grief and anguish there, wondrous\nweeping and wailing of that miserable mother, for the son who perished\nby such a fate? Nay, she left us with a laugh! Ah, woe is me! Dearest\nOrestes, how is my life quenched by thy death! Thou hast torn away\nwith the from my heart the only hopes which still were mine,- that\nthou wouldst live to return some day, an avenger of thy sire, and\nof me unhappy. But now- whither shall I turn? I am alone, bereft of\nthee, as of my father.\nHenceforth I must be a slave again among those whom most I hate, my\nfather's murderers. Is it not well with me? But never, at least, henceforward,\nwill I enter the house to dwell with them; nay, at these gates I will\nlay me down, and here, without a friend, my days shall wither. Therefore,\nif any in the house be wroth, let them slay me; for 'tis a grace,\nif I die, but if I live, a pain; I desire life no more. (The following\nlines between ELECTRA and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)\nCHORUS (strophe 1)\nWhere are the thunderbolts of Zeus, or where is the bright Sun, if\nthey look upon these things, and brand them not, but rest?\nELECTRA Woe, woe, ah me, ah me!\nCHORUS O daughter, why weepest thou?\nELECTRA (with hands outstretched to heaven) Alas!\nCHORUS Utter no rash cry!\nELECTRA Thou wilt break my heart!\nCHORUS How meanest thou?\nELECTRA If thou suggest a hope concerning those who have surely passed\nto the realm below, thou wilt trample yet more upon my misery.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 1)\nNay, I know how, ensnared by a woman for a chain of gold, the prince\nAmphiaraus found a grave; and now beneath the earth-\nELECTRA Ah me, ah me!\nCHORUS -he reigns in fulness of force.\nELECTRA Alas!\nCHORUS Alas indeed! for the murderess-\nELECTRA Was slain.\nCHORUS Yea.\nELECTRA I know it, I know it; for a champion arose to avenge the\nmourning dead; but to me no champion remains; for he who yet was left\nhath been snatched away.\nCHORUS (strophe 2)\nHapless art thou, and hapless is thy lot!\nELECTRA Well know I that, too well,- I, whose life is a torrent of\nwoes dread and dark, a torrent that surges through all the months!\nCHORUS We have seen the course of thy sorrow.\nELECTRA Cease, then, to divert me from it, when no more-\nCHORUS How sayest thou?\nELECTRA -when no more can I have the comfort of hope from a brother,\nthe seed of the same noble sire.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 2)\nFor all men it is appointed to die.\nELECTRA What, to die as that ill-starred one died, amid the tramp\nof racing steeds, entangled in the reins that dragged him?\nCHORUS Cruel was his doom, beyond thought!\nELECTRA Yea, surely; when in foreign soil, without ministry of my\nhands,-\nCHORUS Alas!\nELECTRA -he is buried, ungraced by me with sepulture or with tears.\n(CHRYSOTHEMIS enters in excitement.)\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Joy wings my feet, dear sister, not careful of seemliness,\nif I come with speed; for I bring joyful news, to relieve thy long\nsufferings and sorrows.\nELECTRA And whence couldst thou find help for my woes, whereof no\ncure can be imagined?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Orestes is with us,- know this from my lips, in living\npresence, as surely as thou seest me here.\nELECTRA What, art thou mad, poor girl? Art thou laughing at my sorrows,\nand thine own?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, by our father's hearth, I speak not in mockery;\nI tell thee that he is with us indeed.\nELECTRA Ah, woe is me! And from whom hast thou heard this tale, which\nthou believest so lightly?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS I believe it on mine own knowledge, not on hearsay;\nI have seen clear proofs.\nELECTRA What hast thou seen, poor girl, to warrant thy belief? Whither,\nwonder hast thou turned thine eyes, that thou art fevered with this\nbaneful fire?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Then, for the gods' love, listen, that thou mayest know\nmy story, before deciding whether I am sane or foolish.\nELECTRA Speak on, then, if thou findest pleasure in speaking.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Well, thou shalt hear all that I have seen. When I came\nto our father's ancient tomb, I saw that streams of milk had lately\nflowed from the top of the mound, and that his sepulchre was encircled\nwith garlands of all flowers that blow. I was astonished at the sight,\nand peered about, lest haply some one should be close to my side.\nBut when I perceived that all the place was in stillness, I crept\nnearer to the tomb; and on the mound's edge I saw a lock of hair,\nfreshly severed.\nAnd the moment that I saw it, ah me, a familiar image rushed upon\nmy soul, telling me that there I beheld a token of him whom most I\nlove, Orestes. Then I took it in my hands, and uttered no ill-omened\nword, but the tears of joy straightway filled mine eyes. And I know\nwell, as knew then, that this fair tribute has come from none but\nhim. Whose part else was that, save mine and thine? And I did it not,\nI know,- nor thou; how shouldst thou?- when thou canst not leave this\nhouse, even to worship the gods, but at thy peril. Nor, again, does\nour mother's heart incline to do such deeds, nor could she have so\ndone without our knowledge.\nNo, these offerings are from Orestes! Come, dear sister, courage!\nNo mortal life is attended by a changeless fortune. Ours was once\ngloomy; but this day, perchance, will seal the promise of much good.\nELECTRA Alas for thy folly! How I have been pitying thee!\nCHRYSOTHEMIS What, are not my tidings welcome?\nELECTRA Thou knowest not whither or into what dreams thou wanderest.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Should I not know what mine own eyes have seen?\nELECTRA He is dead, poor girl; and thy hopes in that deliverer are\ngone: look not to him.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Woe, woe is me! From whom hast thou heard this?\nELECTRA From the man who was present when he perished.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS And where is he? Wonder steals over my mind.\nELECTRA He is within, a guest not unpleasing to our mother.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Ah, woe is me! Whose, then, can have been those ample\nofferings to our father's tomb?\nELECTRA Most likely, I think, some one brought those gifts in memory\nof the dead Orestes.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Oh, hapless that I am! And I was bringing such news\nin joyous haste, ignorant, it seems, how dire was our plight; but\nnow that I have come, I find fresh sorrows added to the old!\nELECTRA So stands thy case; yet, if thou wilt hearken to me, thou\nwilt lighten the load of our present trouble.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Can I ever raise the dead to life?\nELECTRA I meant not that; I am not so foolish.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS What biddest thou, then, for which my strength avails?\nELECTRA That thou be brave in doing what I enjoin.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, if any good can be done, I will not refuse,\nELECTRA Remember, nothing succeeds without toil.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS I know it, and will share thy burden with all my power.\nELECTRA Hear, then, how I am resolved to act. As for the support\nof friends, thou thyself must know that we have none; Hades hath taken\nour friends away. and we two are left alone. I, so long as I heard\nthat my brother still lived and prospered, had hopes that he would\nyet come to avenge the murder of our sire. But now that he is no more,\nI look next to thee, not to flinch from aiding me thy sister to slay\nour father's murderer, Aegisthus:- I must have no secret from thee\nmore.\nHow long art thou to wait inactive? What hope is left standing, to\nwhich thine eyes can turn? Thou hast to complain that thou art robbed\nof thy father's heritage; thou hast to mourn that thus far thy life\nis fading without nuptial song or wedded love. Nay, and do not hope\nthat such joys will ever be thine; Aegisthus is not so ill-advised\nas ever to permit that children should spring from thee or me for\nhis own sure destruction. But if thou wilt follow my counsels, first\nthou wilt win praise of piety from our dead sire below, and from our\nbrother too; next, thou shalt be called free henceforth, as thou wert\nborn, and shalt find worthy bridals; for noble natures draw the gaze\nof all.\nThen seest thou not what fair fame thou wilt win for thyself and for\nme, by hearkening to my word? What citizen or stranger, when he sees\nus, will not greet us with praises such as these?- 'Behold these two\nsisters, my friends, who saved their father's house; who, when their\nfoes were firmly planted of yore, took their lives in their hands\nand stood forth as avengers of blood! Worthy of love are these twain,\nworthy of reverence from all; at festivals, and wherever the folk\nare assembled, let these be honoured of all men for their prowess.'\nThus will every one speak of us, so that in life and in death our\nglory shall not fail.\nCome, dear sister, hearken! Work with thy sire, share the burden of\nthy brother, win rest from woes for me and for thyself,- mindful of\nthis, that an ignoble life brings shame upon the noble.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS In such case as this, forethought is helpful\nfor those who speak and those who hear.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Yea, and before she spake, my friends, were she blest\nwith a sound mind, she would have remembered caution, as she doth\nnot remember it.\nNow whither canst thou have turned thine eyes, that thou art arming\nthyself with such rashness, and calling me to aid thee? Seest thou\nnot, thou art a woman, not a man, and no match for thine adversaries\nin strength? And their fortune prospers day by day, while ours is\nebbing and coming to nought. Who, then, plotting to vanquish a foe\nso strong, shall escape without suffering deadly scathe? See that\nwe change not our evil plight to worse, if any one hears these words.\nIt brings us no relief or benefit, if, after winning fair fame, we\ndie an ignominious death; for mere death is not the bitterest, but\nrather when one who wants to die cannot obtain even that boon.\nNay, I beseech thee, before we are utterly destroyed, and leave our\nhouse desolate, restrain thy rage! I will take care that thy words\nremain secret and harmless; and learn thou the prudence, at last though\nlate, of yielding, when so helpless, to thy rulers.\nLEADER Hearken; there is no better gain for mortals to win than foresight\nand a prudent mind.\nELECTRA Thou hast said nothing unlooked-for; I well knew that thou\nwouldst reject what I proffered. Well! I must do this deed with mine\nown hand, and alone; for assuredly I will not leave it void.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Alas! Would thou hadst been so purposed on the day of\nour father's death! What mightst thou not have wrought?\nELECTRA My nature was the same then, but my mind less ripe.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Strive to keep such a mind through all thy life.\nELECTRA These counsels mean that thou wilt not share my deed.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS No; for the venture is likely to bring disaster.\nELECTRA I admire thy prudence; thy cowardice I hate.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS I will listen not less calmly when thou praise me.\nELECTRA Never fear to suffer that from me.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Time enough in the future to decide that.\nELECTRA Begone; there is no power to help in thee.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Not so; but in thee, no mind to learn.\nELECTRA Go, declare all this to thy mother!\nCHRYSOTHEMIS But, again, I do not hate thee with such a hate.\nELECTRA Yet know at least to what dishonour thou bringest me.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Dishonour, no! I am only thinking of thy good.\nELECTRA Am I bound, then, to follow thy rule of right?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS When thou art wise, then thou shalt be our guide.\nELECTRA Sad, that one who speaks so well should speak amiss!\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Thou hast well described the fault to which thou cleavest.\nELECTRA How? Dost thou not think that I speak with justice?\nCHRYSOTHEMIS But sometimes justice itself is fraught with harm.\nELECTRA I care not to live by such a law.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Well, if thou must do this, thou wilt praise me yet.\nELECTRA And do it I will, no whit dismayed by thee.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Is this so indeed? Wilt thou not change thy counsels?\nELECTRA No, for nothing is more hateful than bad counsel.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Thou seemest to agree with nothing that I urge.\nELECTRA My resolve is not new, but long since fixed.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Then I will go; thou canst not be brought to approve\nmy words, nor to commend thy conduct.\nELECTRA Nay, go within; never will I follow thee, however much thou\nmayst desire it; it were great folly even to attempt an idle quest.\nCHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, if thou art wise in thine own eyes, be such wisdom\nthine; by and by, when thou standest in evil plight, thou wilt praise\nmy words. (CHRYSOTHEMIS goes into the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nWhen we see the birds of the air, with sure instinct, careful to\nnourish those who give them life and nurture, why do not we pay these\ndebts in like measure? Nay, by the lightning-flash of Zeus, by Themis\nthroned in heaven, it is not long till sin brings sorrow.\nVoice that comest to the dead beneath the earth, send a piteous cry,\nI pray thee, to the son of Atreus in that world, a joyless message\nof dishonour;\n(antistrophe 1)\ntell him that the fortunes of his house are now distempered; while,\namong his children, strife of sister with sister hath broken the harmony\nof loving days. Electra, forsaken, braves the storm alone; she bewails\nalway, hapless one, her father's fate, like the nightingale unwearied\nin lament; she recks not of death, but is ready to leave the sunlight,\ncould she but quell the two Furies of her house. Who shall match such\nnoble child of noble sire?\n(strophe 2)\nNo generous soul deigns, by a base life, to cloud a fair repute,\nand leave a name inglorious; as thou, too, O my daughter, hast chosen\nto mourn all thy days with those that mourn, and hast spurned dishonour,\nthat thou mightest win at once a twofold praise, as wise, and as the\nbest of daughters.\n(antistrophe 2)\nMay I yet see thy life raised in might and wealth above thy foes,\neven as now it is humbled beneath their hand! For I have found thee\nin no prosperous estate; and yet, for observance of nature's highest\nlaws, winning the noblest renown, by thy piety towards Zeus. (ORESTES\nenters, with PYLADES and two attendants, one of them carrying a funeral\nurn.)\nORESTES Ladies, have we been directed aright, and are we on the right\npath to our goal?\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS And what seekest thou? With what desire hast\nthou come?\nORESTES I have been searching for the home of Aegisthus.\nLEADER Well, thou hast found it; and thy guide is blameless.\nORESTES Which of you, then, will tell those within that our company,\nlong desired, hath arrived?\nLEADER This maiden,- if the nearest should announce it.\nORESTES I pray thee, mistress, make it known in the house that certain\nmen of Phocis seek Aegisthus.\nELECTRA Ah, woe is me! Surely ye are not bringing the visible proofs\nof that rumour which we heard?\nORESTES I know nothing of thy 'rumour'; but the aged Strophius charged\nme with tidings of Orestes.\nELECTRA What are they, sir? Ah, how I thrill with fear!\nORESTES He is dead; and in a small urn, as thou seest, we bring the\nscanty relics home.\nELECTRA Ah me unhappy! There, at last, before mine eyes, I see that\nwoful burden in your hands\nORESTES If thy tears are for aught which Orestes hath suffered, know\nthat yonder vessel holds his dust.\nELECTRA Ah, sir, allow me, then, I implore thee, if this urn indeed\ncontains him, to take it in my hands,- that I may weep and wail, not\nfor these ashes alone, but for myself and for all our house therewith!\nORESTES (to the attendants) Bring it and give it her, whoe'er she\nbe; for she who begs this boon must be one who wished him no evil,\nbut a friend, or haply a kinswoman in blood. (The urn is placed in\nELECTRA'S hands.)\nELECTRA Ah, memorial of him whom I loved best on earth! Ah, Orestes,\nwhose life hath no relic left save this,- how far from the hopes with\nwhich I sent thee forth is the manner in which I receive thee back!\nNow I carry thy poor dust in my hands; but thou wert radiant, my child,\nwhen I sped the forth from home! Would that I had yielded up my breath,\nere, with these hands, I stole thee away, and sent thee to a strange\nland, and rescued the from death; that so thou mightest have been\nstricken down on that self-same day, and had thy portion in the tomb\nof thy sire!\nBut now, an exile from home and fatherland, thou hast perished miserably,\nfar from thy sister; woe is me, these loving hands have not washed\nor decked thy corpse, nor taken up, as was meet, their sad burden\nfrom the flaming pyre. No! at the hands of strangers, hapless one,\nthou hast had those rites, and so art come to us, a little dust in\na narrow urn.\nAh, woe is me for my nursing long ago, so vain, that I oft bestowed\non thee with loving toil I For thou wast never thy mother's darling\nso much as mine; nor was any in the house thy nurse but I; and by\nthee I was ever called 'sister.' But now all this hath vanished in\na day, with thy death; like a whirlwind, thou hast swept all away\nwith thee. Our father is gone; I am dead in regard to thee; thou thyself\nhast perished: our foes exult; that mother, who is none, is mad with\njoy,- she of whom thou didst oft send me secret messages, thy heralds,\nsaying that thou thyself wouldst appear as an avenger. But our evil\nfortune. thine and mine, hath reft all that away, and hath sent thee\nforth unto me thus,- no more the form that I loved so well, but ashes\nand an idle shade.\nAh me, ah me! O piteous dust! Alas, thou dear one, sent on a dire\njourney, how hast undone me,- undone me indeed, O brother mine!\nTherefore take me to this thy home, me who am as nothing, to thy nothingness,\nthat I may dwell with thee henceforth below; for when thou wert on\nearth, we shared alike; and now I fain would die, that I may not be\nparted from thee in the grave. For I see that the dead have rest from\npain.\nLEADER Bethink thee, Electra, thou art the child of mortal sire,\nand mortal was Orestes; therefore grieve not too much. This is a debt\nwhich all of us must pay.\nORESTES Alas, what shall I say? What words can serve me at this pass?\nI can restrain my lips no longer!\nELECTRA What hath troubled thee? Why didst thou say that?\nORESTES Is this the form of the illustrious Electra that I behold?\nELECTRA It is; and very grievous is her plight.\nORESTES Alas, then, for this miserable fortune!\nELECTRA Surely, sir, thy lament is not for me?\nORESTES O form cruelly, godlessly misused!\nELECTRA Those ill-omened words, sir, fit no one better than me.\nORESTES Alas for thy life, unwedded and all unblest!\nELECTRA Why this steadfast gaze, stranger, and these laments?\nORESTES How ignorant was I, then, of mine own sorrows!\nELECTRA By what that hath been said hast thou perceived this?\nORESTES By seeing thy sufferings, so many and so great.\nELECTRA And yet thou seest but a few of my woes.\nORESTES Could any be more painful to behold?\nELECTRA This, that I share the dwelling of the murderers.\nORESTES Whose murderers? Where lies the guilt at which thou hintest?\nELECTRA My father's;- and then I am their slave perforce.\nORESTES Who is it that subjects thee to this constraint?\nELECTRA A mother-in name, but no mother in her deeds.\nORESTES How doth she oppress thee? With violence or with hardship?\nELECTRA With violence, and hardships, and all manner of ill.\nORESTES And is there none to succour, or to hinder?\nELECTRA None. I had one; and thou hast shown me his ashes.\nORESTES Hapless girl, how this sight hath stirred my pity!\nELECTRA Know, then, that thou art the first who ever pitied me.\nORESTES No other visitor hath ever shared thy pain.\nELECTRA Surely thou art not some unknown kinsman?\nORESTES I would answer, if these were friends who hear us.\nELECTRA Oh, they are friends; thou canst speak without mistrust.\nORESTES Give up this urn, then, and thou shalt be told all.\nELECTRA Nay, I beseech thee be not so cruel to me, sir!\nORESTES Do as I say, and never fear to do amiss.\nELECTRA I conjure thee, rob me not of my chief treasure!\nORESTES Thou must not keep it.\nELECTRA Ah woe is me for thee, Orestes, if I am not to give thee\nburial\nORESTES Hush!-no such word!-Thou hast no right to lament.\nELECTRA No right to lament for my dead brother?\nORESTES It is not meet for thee to speak of him thus.\nELECTRA Am I so dishonoured of the dead?\nORESTES Dishonoured of none:- but this is not thy part.\nELECTRA Yes, if these are the ashes of Orestes that I hold.\nORESTES They are not; a fiction dothed them with his name. (He gently\ntakes the urn from her.)\nELECTRA And where is that unhappy one's tomb?\nORESTES There is none; the living have no tomb.\nELECTRA What sayest thou, boy?\nORESTES Nothing that is not true.\nELECTRA The man is alive?\nORESTES If there be life in me.\nELECTRA What? Art thou he?\nORESTES Look at this signet, once our father's, and judge if I speak\ntruth.\nELECTRA O blissful day!\nORESTES Blissful, in very deed!\nELECTRA Is this thy voice?\nORESTES Let no other voice reply.\nELECTRA Do I hold thee in my arms?\nORESTES As mayest thou hold me always!\nELECTRA Ah, dear friends and fellow-citizens, behold Orestes here,\nwho was feigned dead, and now, by that feigning hath come safely home!\nLEADER We see him, daughter; and for this happy fortune a tear of\njoy trickles from our eyes. (The following lines between ORESTES\nand ELECTRA are chanted responsively.)\nELECTRA (strophe)\nOffspring of him whom I loved best, thou hast come even now, thou\nhast come, and found and seen her whom thy heart desired!\nORESTES I am with thee;- but keep silence for a while.\nELECTRA What meanest thou?\nORESTES 'Tis better to be silent, lest some one within should hear.\nELECTRA Nay, by ever-virgin Artemis, I will never stoop to fear women,\nstay-at-homes, vain burdens of the ground!\nORESTES Yet remember that in women, too, dwells the spirit of battle;\nthou hast had good proof of that, I ween.\nELECTRA Alas! ah me! Thou hast reminded me of my sorrow, one which,\nfrom its nature, cannot be veiled, cannot be done away with, cannot\nforget!\nORESTES I know this also; but when occasion prompts, then will be\nthe moment to recall those deeds.\nELECTRA (antistrophe)\nEach moment of all time, as it comes, would be meet occasion for\nthese my just complaints; scarcely now have I had my lips set free.\nORESTES I grant it; therefore guard thy freedom.\nELECTRA What must I do?\nORESTES When the season serves not, do not wish to speak too much.\nELECTRA Nay, who could fitly exchange speech for such silence, when\nthou hast appeared? For now I have seen thy face, beyond all thought\nand hope!\nORESTES Thou sawest it, when the gods moved me to come....\nELECTRA Thou hast told me of a grace above the first, if a god hath\nindeed brought thee to our house; I acknowledge therein the work of\nheaven.\nORESTES I am loth, indeed, to curb thy gladness, but yet this excess\nof joy moves my fear.\nELECTRA (epode)\nO thou who, after many a year, hast deigned thus to gladden mine\neyes by thy return, do not, now that thou hast seen me in all my woe-\nORESTES What is thy prayer?\nELECTRA -do not rob me of the comfort of thy face; do not force me\nto forego it!\nORESTES I should be wroth, indeed, if I saw another attempt it.\nELECTRA My prayer is granted?\nORESTES Canst thou doubt?\nELECTRA Ah, friends, I heard a voice that I could never have hoped\nto hear; nor could I have restrained my emotion in silence, and without\ncry, when I heard it.\nAh me! But now I have thee; thou art come to me with the light of\nthat dear countenance, which never, even in sorrow, could I forget.\n(The chant is concluded.)\nORESTES Spare all superfluous words; tell me not of our mother's\nwickedness, or how Aegisthus drains the wealth of our father's house\nby lavish luxury or aimless waste; for the story would not suffer\nthee to keep due limit. Tell me rather that which will serve our present\nneed,- where we must show ourselves, or wait in ambush, that this\nour coming may confound the triumph of our foes.\nAnd look that our mother read not thy secret in thy radiant face,\nwhen we twain have advanced into the house, but make lament, as for\nthe feigned disaster; for when we have prospered, then there will\nbe leisure to rejoice and exult in freedom.\nELECTRA Nay, brother, as it pleases thee, so shall be my conduct\nalso; for all my joy is a gift from thee, and not mine own. Nor would\nI consent to win great good for myself at the cost of the least pain\nto thee; for so should I ill serve the divine power that befriends\nus now.\nBut thou knowest how matters stand here, I doubt not: thou must have\nbeard that Aegisthus is from home, but our mother within;- and fear\nnot that she will ever see my face lit up with smiles; for mine old\nhatred of her hath sunk into my heart; and, since I have beheld thee,\nfor very joy I shall never cease to weep. How indeed should I cease,\nwho have seen thee come home this day, first as dead, and then in\nlife? Strangely hast thou wrought on me; so that, if my father should\nreturn alive, I should no longer doubt my senses, but should believe\nthat I saw him. Now, therefore, that thou hast come to me so wondrously,\ncommand me as thou wilt; for, had I been alone, I should have achieved\none of two things,- a noble deliverance, or a noble death.\nORESTES Thou hadst best be silent; for I hear some one within preparing\nto go forth.\nELECTRA (to ORESTES AND PYLADES) Enter, sirs; especially as ye bring\nthat which no one could repulse from these doors, though he receive\nit without joy. (The PAEDAGOGUS enters from the palace.)\nPAEDAGOGUS Foolish and senseless children! Are ye weary of your lives,\nor was there no wit born in you, that ye see not how ye stand, not\non the brink, but in the very midst of deadly perils? Nay, had I not\nkept watch this long while at these doors, your plans would have been\nin the house before yourselves; but, as it is, my care shielded you\nfrom that. Now have done with this long discourse, these insatiate\ncries of joy, and pass within; for in such deeds delay is evil, and\n'tis well to make an end.\nORESTES What, then, will be my prospects when I enter?\nPAEDAGOGUS Good; for thou art secured from recognition.\nORESTES Thou hast reported me, I presume, as dead?\nPAEDAGOGUS Know that here thou art numbered with the shades.\nORESTES Do they rejoice, then, at these tidings? Or what say they?\nPAEDAGOGUS I will tell thee at the end; meanwhile, all is well for\nus on their party-even that which is not well.\nELECTRA Who is this, brother? I pray thee, tell me.\nORESTES Dost thou not perceive?\nELECTRA I cannot guess.\nORESTES Knowest thou not the man to whose hands thou gavest me once?\nELECTRA What man? How sayest thou?\nORESTES By whose hands, through thy forethought, I was secretly conveyed\nforth to Phocian soil.\nELECTRA Is this he in whom, alone of many, I found a true ally of\nold, when our sire was slain?\nORESTES 'Tis he; question me no further.\nELECTRA O joyous day! O sole preserver of Agamemnon's house, how\nhast thou come? Art thou he indeed, who didst save my brother and\nmyself from many sorrows? O dearest hands; O messenger whose feet\nwere kindly servants! How couldst thou be with me so long, and remain\nunknown, nor give a ray of light, but afflict me by fables, while\npossessed of truths most sweet? Hail, father,- for 'tis a father that\nI seem to behold! All hail,- and know that I have hated thee, and\nloved thee, in one day, as never man before!\nPAEDAGOGUS Enough, methinks; as for the story of the past, many are\nthe circling nights, and days as many, which shall show it thee, Electra,\nin its fulness. (To ORESTES and PYLADES) But this is my counsel\nto you twain, who stand there- now is the time to act; now Clytemnestra\nis alone,- no man is now within: but, if ye pause, consider that ye\nwill have to fight, not with the inmates alone, but with other foes\nmore numerous and better skilled.\nORESTES Pylades, this our task seems no longer to crave many words,\nbut rather that we should enter the house forthwith,- first adoring\nthe shrines of my father's gods, who keep these gates. (ORESTES and\nPYLADES enter the Palace, followed by the PAEDAGOGUS.- ELECTRA remains\noutside.)\nELECTRA O King Apollo! graciously hear them, and hear me besides,\nwho so oft have come before thine altar with such gifts as my devout\nhand could bring! And now, O Lycean Apollo, with such vows as I can\nmake, I pray thee, I supplicate, I implore, grant us thy benignant\naid in these designs, and show men how impiety is rewarded by the\ngods! (ELECTRA enters the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing) Behold how Ares moves onward, breathing deadly\nvengeance, against which none may strive!\nEven now the pursuers of dark guilt have passed beneath yon roof,\nthe hounds which none may flee. Therefore the vision of my soul shall\nnot long tarry in suspense.\nThe champion of the spirits infernal is ushered with stealthy feet\ninto the house, the ancestral palace of his sire, bearing keen-edged\ndeath in his hands; and Hermes, son of Maia, who hath shrouded the\nguile in darkness, leads him forward, even to the end, and delays\nno more. (ELECTRA enters from the palace.)\nELECTRA (strophe)\nAh, dearest friends, in a moment the men will do the deed;- but wait\nin silence.\nCHORUS How is it?- what do they now?\nELECTRA She is decking the urn for burial, and those two stand close\nto her\nCHORUS And why hast thou sped forth?\nELECTRA To guard against Aegisthus entering before we are aware.\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) Alas! Woe for the house forsaken of friends\nand filled with murderers!\nELECTRA A cry goes up within:- hear ye not, friends?\nCHORUS I heard, ah me, sounds dire to hear, and shuddered!\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) O hapless that I am!- Aegisthus, where, where\nart thou?\nELECTRA Hark, once more a voice resounds I\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) My son, my son, have pity on thy mother!\nELECTRA Thou hadst none for him, nor for the father that begat him.\nCHORUS Ill-fated realm and race, now the fate that hath pursued thee\nday by day is dying,- is dying!\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) Oh, I am smitten!\nELECTRA Smite, if thou canst, once more!\nCLYTEMNESTRA (within) Ah, woe is me again!\nELECTRA Would that the woe were for Aegisthus too!\nCHORUS The curses are at work; the buried live; blood flows for blood,\ndrained from the slayers by those who died of yore. (ORESTES and\nPYLADES enter from the palace., antistrophe)\nBehold, they come! That red hand reeks with sacrifice to Ares; nor\ncan I blame the deed.\nELECTRA Orestes, how fare ye?\nORESTES All is well within the house, if Apollo's oracle spake well.\nELECTRA The guilty one is dead?\nORESTES Fear no more that thy proud mother will ever put thee to\ndishonour.\nCHORUS Cease; for I see Aegisthus full in view.\nELECTRA Rash boys, back, back!\nORESTES Where see ye the man?\nELECTRA Yonder, at our mercy, be advances from the suburb, full of\njoy.\nCHORUS Make with all speed for the vestibule; that, as your first\ntask prospered. so this again may prosper now.\nORESTES Fear not,- we will perform it.\nELECTRA Haste, then, whither thou wouldst.\nORESTES See, I am gone.\nELECTRA I will look to matters here. (ORESTES and PYLADES go back\ninto the palace.)\nCHORUS 'Twere well to soothe his ear with some few words of seeming\ngentleness, that he may rush blindly upon the struggle with his doom.\n(AEGISTHUS enters.)\nAEGISTHUS Which of you can tell me, where are those Phocian strangers,\nwho, 'tis said, have brought us tidings of Orestes slain in the wreck\nof his chariot? Thee, thee I ask, yes, thee, in former days so bold,-\nfor methinks it touches thee most nearly; thou best must know, and\nbest canst tell.\nELECTRA I know assuredly; else were I a stranger to the fortune of\nmy nearest kinsfolk.\nAEGISTHUS Where then may be the strangers? Tell me.\nELECTRA Within; they have found a way to the heart of their hostess.\nAEGISTHUS Have they in truth reported him dead?\nELECTRA Nay, not reported only; they have shown him.\nAEGISTHUS Can I, then, see the corpse with mine own eyes?\nELECTRA Thou canst, indeed; and 'tis no enviable sight.\nAEGISTHUS Indeed, thou hast given me a joyful greeting, beyond thy\nwont.\nELECTRA Joy be thine, if in these things thou findest joy.\nAEGISTHUS Silence, I say, and throw wide the gates, for all Mycenaeans\nand Argives to behold; that, if any of them were once buoyed on empty\nhopes from this man, now, seeing him dead, they may receive my curb,\ninstead of waiting till my chastisement make them wise perforce!\nELECTRA No loyalty is lacking on my part; time hath taught me the\nprudence of concord with the stronger. (The central doors of the\npalace are thrown open and a shrouded corpse is disclosed. ORESTES\nand PYLADES stand near it.)\nAEGISTHUS O Zeus, I behold that which hath not fallen save by the\ndoom of jealous Heaven; but, if Nemesis attend that word, be it unsaid!\nTake all the covering from the face, that kinship, at least, may receive\nthe tribute of lament from me also.\nORESTES Lift the veil thyself; not my part this, but thine, to look\nupon these relics, and to greet them kindly.\nAEGISTHUS 'Tis good counsel, and I will follow it.- (To ELECTRA)\nBut thou-call me Clytemnestra, if she is within.\nORESTES Lo, she is near thee: turn not thine eyes elsewhere. (AEGISTHUS\nremoves the face-cloth from the corpse.)\nAEGISTHUS O, what sight is this!\nORESTES Why so scared? Is the face so strange?\nAEGISTHUS Who are the men into whose mid toils I have fallen, hapless\nthat I am?\nORESTES Nay, hast thou not discovered ere now that the dead, as thou\nmiscallest them, are living?\nAEGISTHUS Alas, I read the riddle: this can be none but Orestes who\nspeaks to me!\nORESTES And, though so good a prophet, thou wast deceived so long?\nAEGISTHUS Oh lost, undone! Yet suffer me to say one word...\nELECTRA In heaven's name, my brother, suffer him not to speak further,\nor to plead at length! When mortals are in the meshes of fate, how\ncan such respite avail one who is to die? No,- slay him forthwith,\nand cast his corpse to the creatures from whom such as he should have\nburial, far from our sight! To me, nothing but this can make amends\nfor the woes of the past.\nORESTES (to AEGISTHUS) Go in, and quickly; the issue here is not\nof words, but of thy life.\nAEGISTHUS Why take me into the house? If this deed be fair, what\nneed of darkness? Why is thy hand not prompt to strike?\nORESTES Dictate not, but go where thou didst slay my father, that\nin the same place thou mayest die.\nAEGISTHUS Is this dwelling doomed to see all woes of Pelops' line,\nnow, and in time to come?\nORESTES Thine, at least; trust my prophetic skill so far.\nAEGISTHUS The skill thou vauntest belonged not to thy sire.\nORESTES Thou bandiest words, and our going is delayed. Move forward!\nAEGISTHUS Lead thou.\nORESTES Thou must go first.\nAEGISTHUS Lest I escape thee?\nORESTES No, but that thou mayest not choose how to die; I must not\nspare thee any bitterness of death. And well it were if this judgment\ncame straight-way upon all who dealt in lawless deeds, even the judgment\nof the sword: so should not wickedness abound. (ORESTES and PYLADES\ndrive AEGISTHUS into the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing) O house of Atreus, through how many sufferings\nhast thou come forth at last in freedom, crowned with good by this\nday's enterprise!\nTHE END","title":"Electra","type":"page"}