Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878)/Electra

​

It came to pass that when Agamemnon led the host of the Achæans against Troia, his wife, Clytemnestra, the daughter of Tyndareus, fell away from her faithfulness, partly because she was wroth, or feigned to be so, with her husband, for having sacrificed their daughter Iphigeneia to turn aside the wrath of Artemis, and obtain a favouring breeze for the ships of the Achæans; and partly because Ægisthos, son of Thyestes, the brother of Atreus, father of Agamemnon, had gained her to his will. And when Agamemnon returned from Troia to Mykenæ, Ægisthos and Clytemnestra slew him, and reigned over the Argives in his place, but Electra, his daughter, saved her brother Orestes, and sent him secretly in charge of a faithful servant to Strophios of Phokis, his father s friend. And when eight years had passed, and Electra had sent and received from, him many secret messages, Orestes at last came, with his faithful friend Pylades, the son of Strophios, and the servant who had watched over him, to Mykenæ, that he might do as the God at Delphi had bidden him, and take vengeance on his father's murderers. And it chanced that when he came, his mother, Clytemnestra, had had a vision, which filled her with fear, and she sent her younger daughter, Chrysothemis, with funereal offerings to the tomb of Agamemnon. Electra meanwhile had never ceased to bewail her father's death, and because of this, her mother and Ægisthos had dealt harshly with her.

​

Attendant foster-father to Orestes.
Orestes, son of Agamemnon.
Pylades, friend of Orestes.
Ægisthos, husband of Clytemnestra.
Clytemnestra, mother of Orestes.
Electra,	${\displaystyle \scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}}$	sisters of Orestes.
Chrysothemis,
Chorus of Argive Maidens.

​

---

Attend. Now, son of Agamemnon, who of old
Led our great hosts at Troy, 'tis thine to see
What long thou hast desired. For lo! there lies
The ancient Argos, which, with yearning wish,
Thou oft did'st turn to; here the sacred grove
Of her who wandered, spurred by ceaseless sting,
Daughter of Inachos:^[1] and this, Orestes,
Is the wide agora, Lykeian named
In honour of the God who slew the wolves;^[2]
Here on the left, the shrine of Hera famed;^[3]
And where we stand, Mykenæ, rich in gold,
​Thou look'st upon, in slaughter also rich,
The house of Pelops' line. Here, long ago,10
After thy father's murder, I received thee,
At thy dear sister's hands, to kindred true;
And took thee, saved thee, reared thee in my home,
To this thy manhood, destined to avenge
Thy father's death. Now, therefore, Ο my son,
Orestes, and thou, Pylades, most dear
Of all true friends, we needs must quickly plan
What best to do. For lo! the sun's bright rays
Wake up the birds to tune their matin songs,
And star-decked night's dark shadows flee away;
Ye, then, before ye enter, taking rest,
The roof of living man, hold conference;20
For as things are, we may not linger on:
The time is come for action.

Ores. Dearest friend,
Of servants found most faithful, still thou giv'st
Clear tokens of thy nobleness of heart
In all that touches us. For as the steed,
Though he be old, if good blood flows in him,
In danger's hour still loses not his fire,
But pricks his ears, so thou dost urge us on,
And tak'st thyself thy station in the van.
Wherefore, I tell thee what my mind approves,
And thou, give heed, full heed, to all my words;30
And, if I miss the mark in aught, correct:
For I, when I had reached the Pythian shrine,
That I might learn by what device to wreak
My vengeance on my father's murderers,
Heard this from Phœbos, which thou too shalt learn,
That I myself, unarmed with shield or host,
Should subtly work the righteous deed of blood.
Since then we heard an oracle like this,
​Do thou go in, whene'er occasion serves,
Within this house, and learn what passes there,40
That, knowing all, thou may'st report it well;
Changed as thou art by age and lapse of years,
They will not know thee, nor, with those grey hairs,
Even suspect thee. And with this pretence
Go in, that thou a Phokian stranger art,
Come from a man named Phanoteus; for he
Of all their friends is counted most in fame,
And tell them—yea, and add a solemn oath—
That some fell fate has brought Orestes' death,
In Pythian games,^[4] from out the whirling car
Rolled headlong to the earth. This tale tell thou;50
And we, first honouring my father's grave,
As the God bade us, with libations pure
And tresses from our brow, will then come back,
Bearing the urn well wrought with sides of bronze,
Which, thou know'st well, 'mid yonder shrubs lies hid,
That we with crafty words may bring to them
The pleasant news that my poor frame is gone,
Consumed with fire, to dust and ashes turned.
Why should this grieve me, when, by show of death,
In truth I safety gain, and win renown?60
To me no speech that profits soundeth ill,
For often have I seen men known as wise,
Reported dead in words of idle tales,^[5]
And then, when fortune brings them home again,
Gain more abundant honours. So I boast
​That I, from out this rumour of my death,
Shall, like a meteor, blaze upon my foes.
But oh! thou fatherland, ye Gods of home,
Receive me, prosper me in this my way;
And thou, my father's house, (for lo! I come,
Sent by the Gods to cleanse thee righteously,)70
Send me not back dishonoured from the land,
But lord of ancient wealth, and found at last
Restorer of my race. So far I 've said:
And now, old friend, 'tis thine to watch thy task:
We twain go forth. The true, right time is come,
That mightiest master of all works of men.

Ο holy light of day,
And air with earth commensurate,
Many the wailing songs,
Many the echoing blow,
On bosom stained with blood90
​Thou heardest, when the night
Of murky darkness ceased;
And how, in all my vigils of the night
I wail my hapless sire,
It knows, the loathèd bed of hated house;—
My sire, whom Ares fierce and murderous,
On alien shore received not as a guest,
But she, my mother, and her paramour,
Ægisthos, with the blood-stained hatchet, smote,
As those that timber fell
Smite down the lofty oak.
And thou, my father, hast no pity gained100
From any one but me,
Though thou a death hast died
So grievous and so foul to look upon.

But I at least will ne'er
Refrain mine eyes from weeping, while I live,
Nor yet my voice from wail;
Not while I see this day,
And yon bright twinkling stars;
But, like a nightingale
Of its young brood bereaved,
Before the gates I speak them forth to all.
Ο house of Hades and Persephone,110
Ο Hermes of the abyss, and thou, dread Curse,^[7]
And ye, Erinnyes, daughters of the Gods,
Ye dreaded Ones who look
On all who perish, slain unrighteously,
On all whose bed is stealthily defiled,
Come ye, and help, avenge my father's death;
Send me my brother here,
For I alone must fail,
​Sorrow's great burden in the balance cast.120

Elec. Childish and weak is he
Who learneth to forget
​The parents that have perished miserably;
Far better pleaseth me
The wailing one who "Itys, Itys,"^[8] mourns,
The bird heartbroken, messenger of Zeus.
Ah, Niobe!^[9] with all thy countless woes150
I count thee still divine,
Who in thy tomb of rock
Weepest for evermore.

Elec. Ah! him I wait for with unwearied hope,
And go, ah! piteous fate!
Childless, unwedded still;
My cheeks are wet with tears,
​And still I bear an endless doom of woe.
And he, alas! forgets
All he has met with, all that I had taught.
What message goes from me
That is not mocked? for still he yearns to come,170
And yet he deigneth not,
Yearn though he may, to show himself to us.

Chor. Sad was his voice in that his homeward march,
And sad when that sharp blow
(There in his father's couch,)
Of brazen axe went straight;
​Guile was it that devised,
And lust that struck the blow,
Engendering foully foulest form of sin,
Whether it was a God,
Or one of mortal men,
That did the deed of guilt.200

Elec. I was sore vexed with evils dire, yea, dire;
I know it well; my wrath escapes me not.
Yet in this hard, hard fate,
I will not cease from uttering woe on woe,
While life still holds me here.
For who is there, companions kind and true,
​From whom to learn the speech that profiteth,
Whose thoughts befit the time?
Leave me, oh, leave me, friends that fain would soothe,
For these my woes as endless shall be known,230
And never from my waitings shall I cease,
Nor pause to count my tears.

Elec. I feel some shame, ye women, if I seem
To over-weary you with many tears:
But hard compulsion forces me to this,
Therefore bear with me. What maid nobly born,
Seeing a father's sorrows, would not do
As I am doing,—sorrows which, by night
As well as day, I see bud forth and bloom,
In nowise wither,—I who, first of all,260
​Have on my mother's part, yes, hers who bore me,
Found deadliest hate; and then, in this my house,
Companion with my father's murderers,
I bow to them, and at their hands receive,
Or suffer want. And next, I pray thee, think
What kind of days I pass, beholding him,
Ægisthos, sitting on my father's throne,
And seeing him wear all his kingly robes,
And pouring forth libations on the hearth270
Where his hands slew him; last, and worst of all,
I see that murderer in my father's couch,
With her, my wretched mother, if that name
Of mother I may give to one who sleeps
With such an one as he; and she is bold,
And lives with that adulterer, fearing not
The presence of Erinnyes, but, as one
Who laughs in what she does, she notes the day
In which she slew my father in her guile,
And on it forms her choral band, and slays
Her sheep each month, as victims to the Gods280
That give deliverance;^[10] I, poor hapless one,
Beholding it, (ah misery!) within
Bewail, and pine, and mourn the fatal feast,^[11]
Full of all woe, that takes my father's name,—
I by myself alone. I dare not weep,
Not even weep, as fain my heart would wish;
For she, that woman, noble but in words,
Heaps on my head reproaches such as these:
"Ο impious, hateful mood! Has death deprived
​Thee only of a father? Do none else
Feel touch of sorrow? Evil fate be thine,290
And never may the Gods that reign below
Free thee from wailing!" So she still reviles;
But when she hears one speak Orestes' name,
As one day coming, then in maddened rage
She comes and screams, "And art not thou the cause?
And is not this thy deed, who, stealing him,
Orestes, from my hands, hast rescued him?
But know that thou shalt pay full price for this."
So does she howl, and he too eggs her on,
That spouse of hers as noble, standing near,300
That utter coward, that mere mischief, he
Who with the help of women wages war.
And I, who wait Orestes evermore
To come and stop these evils, waste away;
For he, still ever meaning to effect
Some great achievement, brings to nothingness
All my hopes here, and all hopes far away.
At such a time, my friends, there is no room
For self-control or measured reverence;
Ills force us into choosing words of ill.

​

Elec. Strange is it thou, who callest such a man
Thy father, should'st forget him, and should'st care
For such a mother. All this good advice
Thou giv'st to me is not thine own but hers,
Thy lesson learnt by rote. Take then thy choice;
Or thou hast lost thy reason, or, if sane,
Thou hast no memory of thy dearest friends,
​Who said'st but now, that, had'st thou strength enough,
Thou would'st make plain the hate thou hast for them;
And yet when I am working to avenge
Thy father, wilt not join me, and would'st fain350
Turn me aside from action. Is there not
In this, besides all else, a coward's heart?
Tell me (yea, hear) what profit should I have
Were I to cease from tears? Do I not live?
In evil case I own, and yet for me
Enough; and these I vex, and so I give
Due honour to the dead,—if they can be
Or pleased or thankful. Thou, with that thy hate,
Hatest in words, and yet in act dost live
In friendship with thy father's murderers.
Never would I, no, not though one should bring
To me the gifts which thou rejoicest in,360
Give way to them. No! Let thy board be spread
With dainties rich, and let thy life be full;
*My only food be this, to spare myself
What most would pain. I covet not thy place,
Nor, wert thou wise, would'st thou. But, as it is,
When thou might'st be the child of noblest father,
Choose to be called thy mother's. Thus shalt thou
To most men seem contemptible and base,
Forsaking thy dead father and thy friends.

Elec. Tell then this dreadful evil. Hast thou aught
To tell me more than what I suffer now,
​I will resist nο longer.

​

Elec. Ah, sister dear, of what thy hands do bear
​Put nothing on the tomb; for nature's law
Forbids it as unholy thus to bring
Funereal offerings, lustral waters pour,
From wife unfriendly, on a father's grave.
*No! cast them to the rivers, hide them deep
In dust where never aught of them shall come
To where my father sleeps; but when she dies,
Let them be stored below as gifts for her.
For, surely, were she not the boldest found
Among all women, ne'er would she have poured
These hateful offerings o'er the man she slew.440
Think, if the dead who sleeps in yonder tomb
Will welcome kindly gifts like these from her,
By whom, most foully slain as hated foe,
His feet and hands were lopped off shamefully,
Who wiped upon his head the blood-stained knife,
As if to purge the guilt.^[15] And dost thou think
To bring these gifts redeeming her from guilt?
Not so. Nay, put them by, and then do thou,
Cutting the highest locks that crown thy head,
Yea, and mine also, poor although I be,
(Small offering, yet 'tis all the store I have,)450
Give to him, yes, this lock, untrimmed, unmeet
For suppliant's vow, and this my girdle, decked
With no gay fringe. And ask thou, falling low,
That he will come to us in mood of grace,
From out the earth, a helper 'gainst our foes,
And that his son, Orestes, with a hand
Victorious, trample upon those his foes,
In fullest life returning, so that we
​Hereafter may with gifts more bounteous come
To deck his grave than those we offer now.
I think, for one, I surely think that he
Has sent these dark, unsightly dreams to her;460
But be this as it may, my sister, come
And do this service, for thyself and me,
Nor less for him, of all men most beloved,
Our father, now in Hades slumbering.

Chor. If wisdom fail me not,
As seer misled by doubtful auguries,
And wanting counsel wise,
She comes, true augur with foreshadowing tread,
Vengeance, with hands that bear
The might of righteousness:
She comes, my child, full soon, in hot pursuit:
And through my veins there springs a courage new,
Hearing but now these dreams
That come with favouring gale;480
For he, thy father, King of all Hellenes,
Will not forget for aye,
Nor will that hatchet with its double edge,
Wrought out in bronze of old,
​Which laid him low in death
With vilest contumely.

And She shall also come,
Dread form, with many a foot, and many a hand,
Erinnyes shod with brass,{{pline|490|r}
Who lieth still in ambush terrible;
For there has come to those
For whom it was not right,
The hot embrace of marriage steeped in blood,
Of evil omen, bed and bride alike;
But, above all, this thought
Fills heart and soul, that ne'er
The boding sign will come unblamed to those
Who did the deed, or shared;
Lo! men can find no prophecies in dreams,500
Nor yet in words divine,
Unless it gain its goal,
This vision of the night.

Ah, in the olden time,
Thou chariot race of Pelops, perilous,
How did'st thou come to this our father-land
In long-enduring gloom?
For since he slept beneath the waters deep,
Poor Myrtilos,^[16] who fell,
Cast headlong from the chariot bright with gold,510
​Both root and branch destroyed,
*There has not left our master's lordly house
All shame and ignominy.

Clytem. Thou, as it seems, dost take thine ease abroad,
Ægisthos being absent, who has charged
That thou should'st not, being seen without the gates,
Disgrace thy friends. But now, since he is gone,
For me thou little carest. Yea, thou say'st
Full many a time to many men, that I520
Am over-bold, and rule defying right,
Insulting thee and thine. But I disclaim
All insult, and but speak of thee the ill
I hear so often from thee. Evermore,
Thy father, and nought else, is thy pretext;
As that he died by me . . . . By me? Right well
I know 'tis true. That deed deny I not,
For Justice seized him, 'twas not I alone;
And thou should' st aid her, wert thou wise of heart,
Since that thy father, whom thou mournest still,530
Alone of all the Hellenes had the heart
To sacrifice thy sister to the Gods,
Although, I trow, his toil was less than mine,
And little knew he of my travail-pangs.
And now, I ask thee, tell me for whose sake
He slew her? "For the Argives," sayest thou?
They had no right to seek my daughter's death;
But if he killed mine for another's sake,
His brother Menelaos', should he not
Be rignteously requited? Had not he
​Two sons,^[17] who it was fit should die far more540
Than this my daughter, seeing they were born
Of father and of mother for whose sake
The armament went forth? Or was it so
That Hades had a special lust to feast
Upon my children rather than on hers?
Or was it that her father cast aside,
Cold-blooded, hard, all yearning for my child,
Yet cared for Menelaos? Was he not
In this a reckless father found, and base?
I answer, Yes, though thou refuse assent;
And she that died would say it, could she speak.
I then feel no remorse for what is done;
But if I seem to thee as base in heart,550
*First judge thou right, then blame thy next of kin.

Elec. Thus speak I then to thee—Thou say'st thy hand
Did slay my father! Is there aught of shame
Than this more shameful, whether thou can'st urge,
Or not, the plea of justice? But I say560
Thou did'st not justly slay him, but wast led
By vile suggestion of the coward base
Who now lives with thee. Next, I pray thee, ask
The huntress Artemis what guilt restrained
The many winds in Aulis; or my voice
​Shall tell thee; for from her thou may'st not learn.
My father once, as I have heard the tale,
Taking his sport within the holy grove
The Goddess calls her own, had raised a deer,
Dappled, and antlered, and in careless mood
Boasts loudly at the death.^[18] And therefore she,
Leto's fair daughter, in her wrath detained570
The Achæans that my father might perforce
Slay his own daughter, in the balance weighed
Against that quarry. Thus the matter stood
As to that offering. Other means were none
To free the army, or for homeward voyage,
Or yet for Ilion. Therefore sore constrained
And struggling, hardly at the last he wrought
The act of sacrifice, and not through love
For Menelaos. But had it been so,
Had he done this with wish to profit him,
(For I will take thy premiss,) ought he then
To die by thine hand? Why, what right is this?
See to it, giving men a law like this,580
If thou but cause fresh trouble to thyself,
And change of purpose bringing late regret;
For, should we evermore take blood for blood,
Thou would'st fall first, if thou did'st get thy due.
See to it well, lest thus thy vain pretence
Be found as nought. For tell me, if thou wilt,
In recompense for what dost thou now do
Deed of all deeds most shameful, who dost sleep
With that red-handed felon who with thee
Murdered my father, and to him dost bear
New children, while thou easiest out from thee
Those born before, right seed of righteous sire?590
​How shall I praise these deeds? or wilt thou say
That thus thou takest vengeance for thy child?
Basely enough, if thou should'st say it. Lo!
It is not good to wed an enemy,
E'en in a daughter's cause. But since to speak
A word of counsel is not granted us,
Though thou dost love to speak all words of ill,
That "we revile a mother;"—yet I look
On thee as more my mistress than my mother,
Living a woeful life, by many ills
Encompassed which proceed from thee, and him,600
The partner of thy guilt. That other one,
My poor Orestes, hardly 'scaped from thee,
Drags on a weary life. Full oft hast thou
Charged me with rearing him to come at last
A minister of vengeance; and I own,
Had I but strength, be sure of this, 'twere done.
For this then, even this, proclaim aloud
To all men, as thou wilt, that I am base,
Or foul of speech, or full of shamelessness:
For if I be with such things conversant,
Then to thy breeding I bring no disgrace.

​

Clytem. Do thou then, my attendant, bring the gifts
Of many fruits, that I may breathe my prayers
To this our King for respite from the fears
Which now possess me. Hear, Ο Phœbos, Thou
Our true deliverer, hear my secret speech;
For this my prayer is not among my friends,
Nor is it fit to bring it all to light,
While she is near me still, lest in her mood640
Of envy, and with cry of many tongues,
She spread the vain report through all the town;
But hear thou me; for thus I make my prayer;
The vision which I looked on in the night
Of doubtful dreams, grant me, Lykeian king,
If they are good, their quick accomplishment;
If adverse, send them on mine adversaries;
Arid if there be that wish, by craft and guile,
​To hurl me from the wealth I now enjoy,
Suffer them not, but ever let me live650
With life unharmed, and sway the Atreidæ's house,
And these their sceptres, dwelling with the friends
Whom now I dwell with, passing prosperous days
With all my children, who nor hatred bring
Nor bitter sorrow. This, Lykeian king,
Apollo, hear all pitiful, and grant
To all of us, as we implore thee now;
All else, though I be silent, I will deem
Thou, being a God, dost know. One well may think
The sons of Zeus see all things.

​

Attend. For this end was I sent; and I will tell680
All as it happened. He then journeyed forth
To those great games which Hellas counts her pride,
To join the Delphic contests;^[19] and he heard
The herald's voice, with loud and clear command,
Proclaim, as coming first, the chariot race:
And so he entered radiant, every eye
Admiring as he passed. And in the race
He equalled all the promise of his form
In those his rounds, and so with noblest prize
Of conquest left the ground. And, summing up
In fewest words what many scarce could tell,
I know of none in strength and act like him;
But one thing know, for having won the prize
In all the five-fold forms of race which they,^[20]
The umpires, had proclaimed for those that ran690
The ground's whole length and back, he then was hailed,
Proclaimed an Argive, and his name Orestes,
​His son who once led Hellas' glorious host,
The mighty Agamemnon. So far well.
But when a God will injure, none can 'scape,
Strong though he be. For lo! another day,
When, as the sun was rising, came the race
Swift-footed, of the chariot and the horse,
He entered there, with many charioteers;700
One an Achæan, one from Sparta, two
From Libya, who with four-horsed chariots came,
And he with these, with swift Thessalian mares,
Came as the fifth; a sixth with bright bay colts
Came from Ætolia ; and the seventh was born
In far Magnesia; and the eighth, by race
An Ænian, with white horses; and the ninth
From Athens came, the city built of God;
Last, a Bœotian, tenth in order, came,
And made the list complete.^[21] And so they stood—
When the appointed umpires fixed by lot,710
And placed the cars in order; and with sound
Of brazen trump they started. Cheering all
Their steeds at once, they shook the reins, and then
The course was filled with all the clash and din
Of rattling chariots, and the dust rose high;
And all commingled, sparing not the goad,
That each might pass his neighbour's axle-trees,
And horses' hot, hard breathings; for their backs
And chariot-wheels were white with foam, and still
The breath of horses smote them; and he, come
​Just where the last stone marks the course's goal,720
Turning the corner sharp, and, letting go
The right hand trace-horse, pulled the nearer in;
And so at first the chariots keep their course;
But then the unbroken colts the Ænian owned
Rush at full speed, and, turning headlong back,
Just as they closed their sixth round or their seventh,
Dash their heads right against the chariot wheels
Of those who came from Barkè. And from thence,
From that one shock, each on the other crashed,
They fell o'erturned, and Crissa's spacious plain730
Was filled with wreck of chariots. Then the man
From Athens, skilled and wily charioteer,
Seeing the mischief, turns his steeds aside,
At anchor rides, and leaves the whirling surge
Of man and horse thus raging. Last of all,
Keeping his steeds back, waiting for the end,
Orestes came. And when he sees him left,
His only rival, then, with shaken rein,
Urging his colts, he follows, and they twain
Drove onward both together, by a head,740
Now this, now that, their chariots gaining ground;
And all the other rounds in safety passed.
Upright in upright chariot still he stood,
Ill-starred one; then the left rein letting loose
Just as his horse was turning, unawares
He strikes the furthest pillar, breaks the spokes
Right at his axle's centre, and slips down
From out his chariot, and is dragged along,
With reins dissevered. And, when thus he fell,
His colts tore headlong to the ground's mid-space:
And when the host beheld him fallen thus
From off the chariot, they bewailed him sore,
So young, so noble, so unfortunate,750
​Now hurled upon the ground, and now his limbs
To heaven exposing. Then the charioteers
Full hardly keeping back the rush of steeds,
Freed the poor corpse so bloody, that not one
Of all his friends would know him, and his body
They burnt upon the pyre; and now they bear,
The chosen of the Phokians that have come,
In a poor urn of bronze, a mighty form
Reduced to these sad ashes, that for him
May be a tomb within his fatherland.760
Such is my tale, full sad, I trow, to hear,
But unto those who saw it as we saw,
The greatest of all evils I have known.

Clytem. Nay, not in vain. How could it be in vain?
Since thou bring'st proofs that he is dead, who, born
Child of my heart, from breasts that gave him suck
Then turned aside, and dwelt on foreign soil
In banishment; and since he left our land
Ne'er came to see me, but with dreadful words,
His father's death still casting upon me,
Spake out his threats; so that nor day nor night780
I knew sweet sleep, but still the sway of Time
Led on my life, as one condemned to death.
But now, (for lo! this day has stopped all fear
​From her and him, for she was with me still,
The greater mischief, sucking out my life,
My very heart's blood: now, for all her threats,
We shall live on and pass our days in peace.

Elec. And does she seem to you, that hateful one,
As one who grieves in bitter pain of heart,
To wail and weep full sorely for her son
Who died so sadly? Nay, (ah, wretched me!)
She wends her way exulting. Ah, Orestes!
Dear brother, in thy death thou slayest me;
For thou art gone, bereaving my poor heart
Of all the little hope that yet remained,810
That thou would'st come, a living minister
Of vengeance for thy father and for me,
Me miserable. Now whither shall I turn?
​For now I am indeed alone, bereaved
Of thee and of my father. Now once more
I must live on in bondage unto those
Of all mankind most hateful far to me,
My father's murderers. Goes it well with me?
But I at least through all the time to come
Will not dwell with them, but at this their gate,
All reckless, friendless, waste away my life;
And then, if one of those that dwell within
Is wroth with this, why, let him slay me straight;820
I'll thank him, if he kill me; should I live
There is but sorrow; wish for life is none.

Chor. And yet I know that King Amphiaraos^[22]
Was taken in the toils of golden snare,
​By woman's craft, and now below the earth . . . .

Elec. I trow it was, if in a strange land, he,
​Without my helping hands . . . .

Chrys. And I will tell each thing of all I saw;
For when I came where stands our father's tomb
Time-honoured,^[24] on the summit of the mound
​I see the marks of flowing streams of milk
New poured, and lo! my father's bier was crowned
With garlands of all flowers that deck the fields;
And, seeing it, I wondered, and looked round,
Lest any man should still be hovering near;
And when I saw that all the place was calm,
I went yet nearer to the mound, and there
I saw upon the topmost point of all900
A tress of hair, fresh severed from the head.
And when poor I beheld it, in my soul
A once-familiar image stirs the thought
That here I saw a token true from him
Whom most I love, Orestes. In my hands
I take it, uttering no ill-omened cries,
But straight mine eyes were filled with tears of joy;
And then and now I know with equal faith
This precious gift can come from none but him;
Whose task is this but either mine or thine?
And I, I know, have had no hand in it,910
Nor yet hast thou; how else, when thou 'rt forbid
E'en to the Gods to go from 'neath this roof
Except at cost of tears? Nor does her heart,
Our mother's, love to do such things as these;
Nor could she, doing it, have 'scaped our view.
*No! These tomb-offerings from Orestes come.
Take courage, sister dear! The same drear fate
Stands not for ever to the same men comrade:
Till now it frowned on us; but lo! to-day
Shall be of countless good the harbinger.

​

Elec. Hear, then, what I am purposed to perform.
Thou knowest, e'en thou, that we behold no more
The presence of our friends, but Hades dark
Has snatched them, and we twain are left alone.950
And I, as long as I still heard and deemed
My brother strong and living, still had hopes
That he would come to avenge our father's death;
​But now that he is gone I look to thee,
That thou flinch not, with me thy sister here,
From slaying him, Ægisthos, whose hand wrought
Our father's murder; for I may not hide
Aught of my mind from thee. How long, how long
Dost thou wait dully, looking to what hope
As yet remaining, when for thee is nought
But grief, as robbed of all thy father's wealth,960
And sorrow that thou waxest old till now,
Without or marriage-bed or marriage-song?
And cherish thou no hope that thou shalt gain
Or this or that. Ægisthos is not blind,
To let our progeny, or mine or thine,
Spring up or grow, to be his certain harm.
But, if thou wilt to my advice give heed,
First, thou shalt gain the praise of reverence due
Both from our father, who now sleeps below,
And from our brother; next, thou shalt be called,
As thou wast born, free, noble, and shalt gain970
Befitting marriage. All men love to look
On deeds of goodness. Dost not see full clear
All the fair fame thou 'lt gain for thee and me,
If thou obey my counsels? Who, seeing us,
Or citizen or stranger, will not greet us
With praises such as these? "Behold, my friends,
Those sisters twain, who saved their father's house,
And on their foes who walked in pride of strength,
Regardless of their lives, wrought doom of death!980
These all must love, these all must reverence;
These in our feasts, and when the city meets
In full assemblage, all should honour well,
For this their manly prowess." Thus will all
Speak of us, so that fame we shall not miss,
Living or dying. Do but hear me, dear one.
​Toil for thy father, for thy brother work,
Free me from all my evils, free thyself,
Knowing this, that living basely is for those
Who have been born of noble stock most base.

Elec. Thou hast said nought unlooked for. Well I knew
​That thou would'st none of all I urged on thee.
Well! I alone, with my own hands, must do
This deed: for void we will not leave it now.1020

​

Chor. Why, when we see on high
The birds for wisdom famed^[25]
Caring to nourish those from whom they spring,1060
From whom they found support,
Why fail we to requite
Like boon on equal scale?
But, lo! by Zeus' glaring lightning flash,
By Themis throned on high,
Not long shall we escape our chastisement.
Ah, Voice that to the central depths of earth^[26]
Dost bear our human deeds,
Lift up thy wailing speech
To those of Atreus' sons who sleep below,
Telling of foulest shame,
Unmeet for choral song.

Long since their house is sick1070
​With sorrow's pain, and now
Their children's strife no more may be appeased
By kindly intercourse.
Elcctra, left alone,
Sails on a troubled sea,
*Still wailing evermore, with piteous cry,
The father whom she loved,
Like nightingale whose song is fraught with woe,
Nor has she any shrinking fear of death,
Ready to close her eyes
In darkness as of night,
If only she the Erinnys pair^[27] destroy.1080
Who lives there true in soul
To noble stock as she?

None of the great and good
Would lose his ancient name,
And stain his glory by a wretched life.
So thou, my child, my child, did'st choose the fate.
The fate which all bewail,
*And, having warred with ill,
Did'st gain, in one brief word,
The good report of daughter wise and best.

May'st thou, in might and wealth,1090
Prevail o'er those thy foes,
As much as now thou liv'st beneath their hands;
For I have found thee, not in high estate
Wending thy way, yet still,
In love and fear of Zeus,
Gaining the foremost prize
In all the laws that best and greatest are.

​

Ores. [To his Attendants.] Bring it, and give it her,
whoe'er she be:
At least she does not ask it as in hate,
​But is perchance a friend, or near in blood.

Elec. [Taking the urn in her hands.] Ο sole memorial
of his life whom most
Of all alive I loved! Orestes mine,
With other thoughts I sent thee forth than these
With which I now receive thee. Now, I bear
In these my hands what is but nothingness;
But sent thee forth, dear boy, in bloom of youth.1130
Ah, would that I long since had ceased to live
Before I sent thee to a distant shore,
With these my hands, and saved thee then from death!
So had'st thou perished on that self-same day,
And had a share in that thy father's tomb.
But now from home, an exile in a land
That was not thine, without thy sister near,
So did'st thou die, and I, alas, poor me!
Did neither lay thee out with lustral rites
And loving hands, nor bear thee, as was meet,
Sad burden, from the blazing funeral pyre;1140
But thou, poor sufferer, tended by the hands
Of strangers, comest, in this paltry urn,
In paltry bulk. Ah, miserable me!
For all the nurture, now so profitless,
Which I was wont with sweetest toil to give
For thee, my brother. Never did she love,
Thy mother, as I loved thee; nor did they
Who dwell within there nurse thee, but 'twas I,
And I was ever called thy sister true;
But now all this has vanished in a day
In this thy death; for, like a whirlwind, thou1150
Hast passed, and swept off all. My father falls;
I perish; thou thyself hast gone from sight;
Our foes exult. My mother, wrongly named,
For mother she is none, is mad with joy,
​Of whom thou oft did'st send word secretly
That thou would'st come and one day show thyself
A true avenger. But thine evil fate,
Thine and mine also, hath bereaved me of thee,
And now hath sent, instead of that dear form,
This dust, this shadow, vain and profitless.
Woe, woe is me!1160
Ο piteous, piteous corpse!
Thou dearest, who did'st tread
(Woe, woe is me!)
Paths full of dread and fear,
How hast thou brought me low,
Yea, brought me very low, thou dearest one!
Therefore receive thou me to this thine home,
Ashes to ashes, that with thee below
I may from henceforth dwell. When thou wast here
I shared with thee an equal lot, and now
I crave in dying not to miss thy tomb;
For those that die I see are freed of grief,1170

​ ​

Elec. Nay, nay. By Artemis,
​The ever-virgin One,
I shall not deign to dread1240
Those women there within,
With worthless burden still
Cumbering the ground.

Ores. Loth am I to restrain thee in thy joy,
​And yet I fear delight overmasters thee.

Elec. Yes, brother dear! Whatever pleaseth thee,
​That shall be my choice also, since my joy
I had not of mine own, but gained from thee,
Nor would I cause thee e'en a moment's pain,
Myself to reap much profit. I should fail,
So doing, to work His will who favours us.
What meets us next, thou knowest, dost thou not?
Ægisthos, as thou hearest, gone from home;
My mother there within, of whom fear not
Lest she should see my face look blithe with joy;1310
For my old hatred eats into my soul,
And, since I've seen thee, I shall never cease
To weep for very joy. How could I cease,
Who in this one short visit looked on thee
Dead, and alive again? Strange things to-day
Hast thou wrought out, so strange that should there come
My father, in full life, I should not deem
'Twas a mere marvel, but believe I saw him.
But, since thou com'st on such an enterprise,
Rule thou as pleases thee. Were I alone,
I had not failed of two alternatives,
Or nobly had I saved myself, or else1320
Had nobly perished.

Attend. Ο ye fools,
And blind, bereaved of counsel, care ye now
No longer for your lives? or is there not
​Your mother-wit still with you? Know ye not
Ye stand—I say not on the very verge,
But in the ills—the greatest ills themselves?1330
Had I not chanced long since to keep my watch
Just at the gate, your doings had been known
There, in the house, before your forms were seen.
But, as it is, I guarded against this;
And now, set free from all this flood of talk,
Free from this girl's insatiate burst of joy,
Go ye within. In such a deed delay
Is evil, and 'tis time to end with it.

Elec. Ο blessed light, Ο thou preserver sole
Of Agamemnon's house, how cam'st thou here?
And art thou he who then did rescue him
And me from many sorrows? Ο dear hands,
​And thou that did'st thy feet's glad ministry,
How was it that so long thou stayed'st with me,
And yet did'st 'scape my ken, did'st not appear,
But did'st in words destroy me, bringing acts1360
Most full of joy? Hail, Ο my father, hail,
(For sure, I think I see a father's face,)
Hail, once again, and know that this one day
Above all men I hated thee and loved.

Chor. See ye, where Ares, breathing slaughter still,
Speeds on his onward way,
Slaughter that none may check;
E'en at this very hour, beneath the roof,
​They go who track all evil deeds of guile,
The hounds whom none escape;
And lo! my soul's dream doth not tarry long,1390
Floating in wild suspense;

For now beneath the roof-tree he has passed,
The avenger of the dead,
Treading with subtle feet,
E'en to his father's high ancestral halls,
And in his hands bears slaughter newly edged;
And Hermes, Maia's son,
Hiding their counsel, leads them to the goal,
Leads on, and tarries not.

​

See! They come;
And lo! their crimsoned hands drip drops of gore
*Poured out to Ares; and I dare not blame.

​

Ægis. I bid you hush, and open wide the gates,
That all of Argos and Mykenæ see.
So, if there be that once were lifted up,
With hopes they had, vain hopes they fixed on him,1460
Now seeing him dead, they may receive my curb,
And, finding me their master, sense may gain,
​Without coercion.

​