ELECTRA (_within_). Woe for my hapless lot!
OLD M. Hark! from the doors, my son, methought there came A moaning cry, as of some maid within.
OR. Can it be poor Electra? Shall we stay, And list again the lamentable sound?
OLD M. Not so. Before all else begin the attempt To execute Apollo's sovereign will, Pouring libation to thy sire: this makes Victory ours, and our success assured. [_Exeunt_
EL. O purest light! And air by earth alone Measured and limitable, how oft have ye Heard many a piercing moan, Many a blow full on my bleeding breast, When gloomy night Hath slackened pace and yielded to the day! And through the hours of rest, Ah! well 'tis known To my sad pillow in yon house of woe, What vigil of scant joyance keeping, Whiles all within are sleeping, For my dear father without stint I groan, Whom not in bloody fray The War-god in the stranger-land Received with hospitable hand, But she that is my mother, and her groom, As woodmen fell the oak, Cleft through the skull with murdering stroke. And o'er this gloom No ray of pity, save from only me, Goes forth on thee, My father, who didst die A cruel death of piteous agony. But ne'er will I Cease from my crying and sad mourning lay, While I behold the sky, Glancing with myriad fires, or this fair day. But, like some brood-bereavèd nightingale, With far-heard wail, Here at my father's door my voice shall sound. O home beneath the ground! Hades unseen, and dread Persephonè, And darkling Hermes, and the Curse revered, And ye, Erinyës, of mortals feared, Daughters of Heaven, that ever see Who die unjustly, who are wronged i' the bed Of those they wed, Avenge our father's murder on his foe! Aid us, and send my brother to my side; Alone I cannot longer bide The oppressive strain of strength-o'ermastering woe.
CHORUS (_entering_). O sad Electra, child I 1 Of a lost mother, why still flow Unceasingly with lamentation wild For him who through her treachery beguiled, Inveigled by a wife's deceit, Fallen at the foul adulterer's feet, Most impiously was quelled long years ago? Perish the cause! if I may lawfully pray so.
EL. O daughters of a noble line, Ye come to soothe me from my troublous woe. I see, I know: Your love is not unrecognized of mine. But yet I will not seem as I forgot, Or cease to mourn my hapless father's lot. Oh, of all love That ever may you move, This only boon I crave-- Leave me to rave!