Page:Choëphoroe (Murray 1923).djvu/27

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157–171
THE CHOËPHOROE

Are poured. Awake and hear, thou awful King;
Hear in thy darkened soul, O Master mine!

Oh, for some man of might
To aid this land, some high and visible lord
Of battle, shining bright
Against Death; the great lance
Bearing deliverance,
The back-bent Scythian bow, the hilted sword
Close-held to smite and smite!


Electra (excitedly returning from the Grave).

Behold,
The offerings of the dust are ministered:
But counsel me. I bear another word.


Leader.

Speak on. My spirit leaps for eagerness.


Electra.

Cast on the tomb I found this shaven tress.


Leader.

Who cast it there? What man or zonèd maid?


Electra.

Methinks that is a riddle quickly read!


Leader.

Thy thought is swift; and may thine elder know?


Electra.

What head save mine would blazon thus its woe?

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