He that hath filled the chalice of this house
With cursing and with woe, on his return
Himself should drink it to the very dregs."
The Chorus, the elders of her people, condemn her straightway to be outcast and abhorred; but she still defends herself and defies them, relying on the help of Ægisthus, her accomplice.
"And now hear ye my stern, my solemn oath:—
By Justice, the avenger of my child;
By Atè, by Erinnys, at whose shrine
I have offered up this man, slain by mine hand!
I look not in the house of fear to dwell,
So long as on my hearth kindles his fire
Ægisthus, as of old my constant friend;
He to my daring is no slender shield.
Low lies the man who hath done shameful wrong
To me his wife; he, once the dear delight
Of the fair Chryseid, 'neath the walls of Troy;
And her his captive, her his prophetess,
The sharer of his bed, his soothsayer,
His faithful consort on his couch of sleep,
And on the deck, under the groaning masts.
For this these two have paid the rightful price—
He as ye see him; she, like the sweet swan,
Singing her farewell song, her own sad dirge,
Lies here, his paramour, the delicate morsel,
Intruded here, where I should feast alone."
The Ruin which the gods, in their mysterious will, sent down upon the race of Pelops stands before us visible in Clytemnestra. Looked at from the human side, she is an incarnation of consummate wickedness,
