To hurl me from the wealth I now enjoy,
Suffer them not, but ever let me live650
With life unharmed, and sway the Atreidæ's house,
And these their sceptres, dwelling with the friends
Whom now I dwell with, passing prosperous days
With all my children, who nor hatred bring
Nor bitter sorrow. This, Lykeian king,
Apollo, hear all pitiful, and grant
To all of us, as we implore thee now;
All else, though I be silent, I will deem
Thou, being a God, dost know. One well may think
The sons of Zeus see all things.
Enter the Attendant of Orestes.
Attend. Might I know,660
Ye ladies, if these dwellings that I see
Are those of King Ægisthos?
Chor. Even so!
Thou guessest well, Ο stranger.
Attend. Am I right
In once more guessing that his wife stands here?
For sure her mien bespeaks her sovereignty.
Chor. Right, more than ever. Lo, she standeth there.
Attend. All hail, Ο queen; I bring thee tidings good,
Thee and Ægisthos also, from a friend.
Clytem. I hail the omen; but I fain would know
This first, what man has sent thee here to us.
Attend. The Phokian Phanoteus, discharging thus670
A weighty task.
Clytem. And what its nature, pray?
Tell me, Ο stranger; for right well I know
Thou from a friend wilt bring us friendly words.
Attend. Orestes. . . . He is dead. That word tells all.
Elec. Ο wretched me! This day I perish too.
