ELECTRA
Only when I essay this perilous task,
Be silent, an you love me, friends, for if
My mother hears of it, I shall have cause
To rue my indiscretion soon or late.
Chorus
(Str.)
Count me a prophet false, a witless wight,
If Justice, who inspires my prophecy,
Comes not, my child, to vindicate the right.
She comes and that right speedily.
My heart grows bold and nothing fears;
That dream was music in my ears.
It tells me that thy sire who whilom led
The Greeks to victory hath not forgot;
Yea, and that axe with double brazen head
Still thirsts for blood to wipe away its blot.
(Ant.)
So leaping from her ambush, brazen-shod,
Comes the Erinys with an armed host’s tread,
For she hath seen a pair who knew not God
Driven by lust to an adulterous bed,
A bed with stains of murder dyed,
A bridal without groom or bride.
Therefore I know that not in vain is sent
This portent that the fall of guilt foretells,
For, if this vision fails of its intent,
Vain is all sooth, all dreams, all oracles.
