ELECTRA.
209
Electra.
How say'st thou?—yea, I see the mark thereof! 575
Old Man.
Now, art thou slow to embrace thy best-beloved?
Electra.
No, ancient, no! By this thy sign convinced
Mine heart is. Thou who hast at last appeared,
Unhoped I hold thee!
Orestes.
Clasped at last of me!
Electra.
Never I looked for this!
Orestes.
Nor dared I hope. 580
Electra.
And art thou he?
Orestes.
Yea, thy one champion I,—
So I draw in the net-cast that I seek:
And sure I shall!—we must believe no more
In Gods, if wrong shall triumph over right.
Chorus.
Thou hast come, thou hast come, dawn long-delayed!
Thou hast flashed from the sky, thou hast lifted on high
