Majestic once sat they upon their thrones,
United now, as by their fate appears,
And faithful to their pledges e'en in death.
To slay my wretched sire conjoined they swore,
Conjoined to die;—well have they kept their oath.
But further, ye who hearken to these woes,
Mark this device, my wretched father's snare,
His hands which fettered and his feet which yoked.
Unfold it,—form a ring,—and, standing near,
Display the Hero's death-robe, that the Sire,
Not mine, but He who all these woes surveys,
Helios, my mother's impious deeds may mark;
So in my trial, at some future time,
He by my side may stand, and witness bear
That justly I did prosecute to death
My mother;—for of base Ægisthus' doom
Recketh me not;—he, as adulterer,
The lawful forfeit of his crime hath paid."
But calamities are not at an end, as the short cries of the Chorus prophesy:—
"Alas for doings fraught with doom!
Slaughtered he found a gory tomb.
Woe! Woe!
To the survivor grief is but in bloom."
And again:—
"Alas! no son of mortal race,
Unscathed the path of life may trace!
Woe! Woe!
Fadeth one grief, another comes apace."
Already Orestes begins to feel the Furies of his mother coming upon him:—
