Electra.
Cruel, all-daring, Mother, woe!
Alas, as foeman buries foe,
A king, no trusty liegemen near,
Thy wedded lord without a tear,
Thou hadst the heart unwailed to send below.
Orestes. Strophe VIII.
All the dishonour thou hast shown:
Therefore shall she our Sire's disgrace atone,
Far as the gods prevail,
Far as my hands avail;
Then may I perish when she lieth prone! 430
Chorus. Antistrophe VIII.
Maimed was he;—let this whet thy hate;
And with like outrage him she did entomb,
That for thy life his fate
Might be too sore a weight.
Such was thy Father's ignominious doom!
Electra. Antistrophe VII.
Our Father's lot thy words proclaim;
While I, despised, a thing of nought,
Shut out like vicious cur with shame,
Forgot to smile; alone, I sought
Solace in weeping,—anguish-fraught. 440
Hearing the tale my lips impart,
Grave it, my brother, on thy inmost heart.
