_Chor._ Yea, thou art stout of heart, and speak'st big words;1400
And maddened is thy soul
As by a murderous hate;
And still upon thy brow
Is seen, not yet avenged,
The stain of blood-spot foul;
And yet it needs must be,
One day thou, reft of friends,
Shall pay the penalty of blow for blow.
_Clytæm._ Now hear thou too my oaths of solemn dread:
By my accomplished vengeance for my child,
By Atè and Erinnys, unto whom
I slew him as a victim, I look not
That fear should come beneath this roof of mine,
So long as on my hearth Ægisthos kindles 1410
The flaming fire, as well disposed to me
As he hath been aforetime. He to us
Is no slight shield of stoutest confidence.
There lies he, [_pointing to the corpse of_ AGAMEMNON,] one who foully
wronged his wife,
The darling of the Chryseïds at Troïa;
And there [_pointing to_ CASSANDRA] this captive slave, this auguress,
His concubine, this seeress trustworthy,
*Who shared his bed, and yet was as well known
To the sailors as their benches!... They have fared
Not otherwise than they deserved: for he
Lies as you see. And she who, like a swan,[386]
Has chanted out her last and dying song, 1420
Lies close to him she loved, and so has brought
The zest of a new pleasure to my bed.