Part 14 (2/2)

And Ate tarries long, but at the last The sinner's heart is cast Into pervading, waxing pangs of pain.

Lo, when man's force doth ope The virgin doors, there is nor cure nor hope For what is lost,--even so, I deem, Though in one channel ran Earth's every stream, Laving the hand defiled from murder's stain, It were vain.

And upon me--ah me!--the G.o.ds have laid The woe that wrapped round Troy, What time they led down from home and kin Unto a slave's employ-- The doom to bow the head And watch our master's will Work deeds of good and ill-- To see the headlong sway of force and sin, And hold restrained the spirit's bitter hate, Wailing the monarch's fruitless fate, Hiding my face within my robe, and fain Of tears, and chilled with frost of hidden pain.

ELECTRA

Hand maidens, orderers of the palace-halls, Since at my side ye come, a suppliant train, Companions of this offering, counsel me As best befits the time: for I, who pour Upon the grave these streams funereal, With what fair word can I invoke my sire?

Shall I aver, _Behold, I bear these gifts From well-beloved wife unto her well-beloved lord_, When 'tis from her, my mother, that they come?

I dare not say it: of all words I fail Wherewith to consecrate unto my sire These sacrificial honours on his grave.

Or shall I speak this word, as mortals use-- _Give back, to those who send these coronals Full recompense--of ills for acts malign?

Or shall I pour this draught for Earth to drink_, Sans word or reverence, as my sire was slain, And homeward pa.s.s with unreverted eyes, Casting the bowl away, as one who flings The household cleansings to the common road?

Be art and part, O friends, in this my doubt, Even as ye are in that one common hate Whereby we live attended: fear ye not The wrath of any man, nor hide your word Within your breast: the day of death and doom Awaits alike the freeman and the slave.

Speak, then, if aught thou know'st to aid us more.

CHORUS

Thou biddest; I will speak my soul's thought out, Revering as a shrine thy father's grave.

ELECTRA

Say then thy say, as thou his tomb reverest.

CHORUS

Speak solemn words to them that love, and pour.

ELECTRA

And of his kin whom dare I name as kind?

CHORUS

Thyself; and next, whoe'er Aegisthus scorns.

ELECTRA

Then 'tis myself and thou, my prayer must name.

CHORUS

Whoe'er they be, 'tis thine to know and name them.

ELECTRA

Is there no other we may claim as ours?

CHORUS

Think of Orestes, though far-off he be.

ELECTRA

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