Chorus.
Follow! She counsels for thy need the best: 1020
Be thou persuaded;—leave thy chariot-seat.
Clytemnestra.
No leisure have I here before the gates
To linger; for, beside the central hearth,
The victims wait the sacrificial fire;
A favour that our fondest hope transcends.
But thou, if aught wilt do of what I say,
Make no delay; but if, of sense bereft,
Thou canst not catch the meaning of my words,
In lieu of voice, speak with barbarian hand.
Chorus.
A clear interpreter the stranger needs: 1030
Distraught she seems, like creature newly caught.
Clytemnestra.
Nay, she is mad; to her distempered thoughts
She listens; from a newly-captured town
She cometh here, nor knows the yoke to bear,
Till quelled in foam the passion of her blood.
But words I'll waste no more, thus to be scorned.
Chorus.
But I, by pity moved, will not be wroth;
Come, wretched sufferer, this car forsake;
To Fortune yielding, hansel this new yoke.
Cassandra. Strophe I.
Ah me! alas! Gods, Earth!
Apollo, O Apollo!1040
