_Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, but as cure for this,
And healing salve,'tis yours with your own hands,
With no help from without,
*To press your suit of blood;
So runs our hymn to those great Gods below.
_Chor._ Yea, hearing now, ye blest Ones 'neath the earth,
This prayer, send ye your children timely help
That worketh victory.
_Orest._ O sire, who in no kingly fashion died'st, 470
Hear thou my prayer; grant victory o'er this house.
_Elect._ I, father, ask this prayer, that I may work
*Ægisthos' death, and then acquittal gain.
_Orest._ Yea, thus the banquets that men give the dead
Would for thee too be held, but otherwise
*Dishonoured wilt thou lie 'mid those that feast,[430]
Robbed of thy country's rich burnt-offerings.
_Elect._ I too from out my father's house will bring
Libations from mine own inheritance,
As marriage offerings. Chief and first of all,
Will I do honour to this sepulchre.
_Orest._ Set free my sire, O Earth, to watch the battle. 480
_Elect._ O Persephassa, goodly victory grant!
_Orest._ Remember, sire, the bath in which they slew thee!
_Elect._ *Remember thou the net they handselled so!
_Orest._ In fetters not of brass wast thou snared, father.
_Elect._ Yea, basely with that mantle they devised.
_Orest._ Art thou not roused by these reproaches, father?
_Elect._ Dost thou not lift thine head for those thou lov'st?
_Orest._ Or send thou Vengeance to assist thy friends;
Or let them get like grasp of those thy foes,
If thou, o'ercome, dost wish to conquer them. 490
_Elect._ And hear thou this last prayer of mine, my father,
Seeing us thy nestlings sitting at thy tomb,
Have mercy on thy boy and on thy girl;
Nor blot thou out the seed of Pelopids:
So thou, though thou hast died, art yet not dead;
For children are the voices that preserve
Man's memory when he dies: so bear the net
The corks that float the flax-mesh from the deep.
Hear thou: This is our wailing cry for thee,
And thou, our prayer regarding, sav'st thyself. 500
_Chor._ Unblamed have ye your utterance lengthened out,
Amends for that his tomb's unwept-for lot.
But as to what remains, since thou'rt resolved
To act, act now; make trial of thy Fate.
_Orest._ So shall it be. Yet 'tis not out of course
To ask why she libations sent, why thus
Too late she cares for ill she cannot cure?
Yea, to a dead man heeding not 'twas sent,
A sorry offering. Why, I fail to guess:
The gifts are far too little for the fault; 510
For should a man pour all he has to pay
For one small drop of blood, the toil were vain:
So runs the saying. But if thou dost know,
Tell this to me as wishing much to learn.
_Chor._ I know, my child, for I was by. Stirred on
By dreams and wandering terrors of the night,
That godless woman these libations sent.
_Orest._ And have ye learnt the dream, to tell it right?
_Chor._ As she doth say, she thought she bare a snake.
_Orest._ How ends the tale, and what its outcome then?
_Chor._ She nursed it, like a child, in swaddling clothes. 520
_Orest._ What food did that young monster crave for then?
_Chor._ She in her dream her bosom gave to it.
_Orest._ How 'scaped her breast by that dread beast unhurt?
_Chor._ Nay, with the milk it sucked out clots of blood.
_Orest._ Ah, not in vain comes this dream from her lord.
_Chor._ She, roused from sleep, cries out all terrified,
And many torches that were quenched in gloom
Blazed for our mistress' sake within the house.
Then these libations for the dead she sends,
Hoping they'll prove good medicine of ills. 530
_Orest._ Now to Earth here and my sire's tomb I pray
They leave not this strange vision unfulfilled.
So I expound it that it all coheres;
For if, the self-same spot that I left leaving,
*The snake was then wrapt in my swaddling clothes,
And sucked the very breast that nourished me,
And mixed the sweet milk with a clot of blood,
And she in terror wailed the strange event,
So must she, as that monster dread she nourished,
Die cruel death: and I, thus serpentised, 540
Am here to slay her, as this dream portends;
I take thee as my dream-interpreter.
_Chor._ So be it; but in all else guide thy friends;
*Bid some do this, some that, some nought at all.
_Orest._ Simple my orders, that she [_pointing to_ ELECTRA] go within;
And you, I charge you, hide these plans of mine,
That they who slew a noble soul by guile,
By guile may die and in the self-same snare
Be caught, as Loxias gave his oracle,
The king Apollo, seer that never lied: 550
For like a stranger in full harness clad
Will I draw near with this man, Pylades,
To the great gates, a stranger I, and he,
Ally in arms. And then we both will speak
Parnassian speech, and imitate the tone
Of Phokian tongue. And should no porter there
Give us good welcome, on the ground that now
The house with ills is haunted, there we'll stay,
So that a man who passeth by the house
Will guess, and thus will speak, “Why drives Ægisthos
The suppliant from his gate, if he's at home
And knows it?” But if I should pass the threshold 560
Of the great gate, and find him seated there
Upon my father's throne, or if he comes
And meets me, face to face, and lifts his eyes,
And drops them, then be sure, before he says,
“Whence is this stranger?”—I will lay him dead,
With my swift-footed brazen weapon pierced;
And then Erinnys, stinted not in slaughter,
Shall drink her third draught of unmingled blood.[431]
Thou, then, [_to_ ELECTRA] watch well what passes in the house, 570
So that these things may dovetail close and well:
And you [_to the Chorus_] I bid to keep a tongue discreet,
Silent, if need be, or the right word speaking,
And Him[432] [_pointing to the statue of Apollo_] I call to look upon
me here,
Since he has set me on this strife of swords.
[_Exeunt_ ORESTES, PYLADES, _and_ ELECTRA