Conspicuous? What disaster bringeth them?
Doth a new sorrow fall upon our house?
Or rightly may I deem that to my sire
They bear libations,—soothing to the dead?
It must be so, for yonder, as I think,
Steering this way, Electra comes, my sister,
Signal by depth of woe. Oh, grant me, Zeus,
To venge my father's death;—be thou to me
Ally propitious!—Now, my Pylades,
Stand we apart, that I may clearly learn
What may import this suppliant female train.
[While the Chorus encircle the tomb, they sing the following Ode.]
Chorus. Strophe I.
Sent from the palace, forth I tread, 20
Libations bearing to the dead,
Guiding, with hands swift-clapped, a doleful train.
Marred is my cheek with many a gory stain,
Nail-ploughed each new-cut furrow bleeds;
My heart on cries of dolour sateless feeds.
Rending my flaxen-tissued vest,
With smileless passion, uncontrolled,
Grief doth my sorrow-stricken breast
Dismantle of the garment's decent fold.
Antistrophe I.
For, shrill of voice, hair-bristling Fear,
In Atreus' household vision-seer, 30
