[Clytemnestra comes forth from the palace with Attendants.]
Clytemnestra.
Strangers, if aught ye need, say on, for here
Is whatsoe'er beseemeth halls like these;—
Warm baths, the easeful couch that charmeth toil,
The welcome presence too of honest eyes.
But if your mission here doth counsel crave,
'Tis men's concern:—we will inform them straight. 660
Orestes.
From Phocis I, a Daulian, stranger here.—
What time my home I left, for Argos bound,
Starting on foot, with baggage self-equipped,
A man to me unknown, as I to him,
Met me, inquired my route and told me his
Strophios, the Phocian, as in talk I learned.
"Stranger," he said, "since Argos is thy goal,
Say to the parents,"—strictly mark my words,—
"Dead is Orestes;—grave it on thy mind;—
Whether the counsel of his friends prevail 670
To bring him home, or give him sepulture,
Alien for aye;—bear thou their mandates back;
For now the brazen urn doth shroud from sight
The ashes of the hero duly wept."
Such words I heard, and tell thee;—if to those
Who here bear rule I speak, kin to the dead,
I know not;—but 'tis meet his sire should know.
Electra.
Woe's me! Then are we utterly undone!
