[The doors of the royal palace are thrown open; Clytemnestra is discovered standing with the axe over her shoulder. Behind her, under a cover, are the bodies of Agamemnon and Cassandra.]
Clytemnestra.
Though much to suit the times before was said,
It shames me not the opposite to speak:
For, plotting against foes,—our seeming friends,—
How else contrive with Ruin's wily snare,
Too high to overleap, to fence them round?
To me, not mindless of an ancient feud,
Hath come at last this contest;—late indeed.
The deed achieved, here stand I, where I slew. 1350
So was it wrought (and this I'll not deny),
That he could neither 'scape, nor ward his doom;
Around him, like a fish-encircling net,
This garment's deadly splendour did I cast;—
Him twice I smote, and he, with twofold groan,
His limbs relaxed;—then, prostrate where he lay,
Him with third blow I dowered, votive gift
To nether Hades, saviour of the dead.
Thus as he fell he chafed his soul away;
And gurgling forth the swift death-tide of blood, 1360
He smites me with black drops of gory dew,
Not less exultant than, with heaven-sent joy
The corn-sown land, in birth-hour of the ear.
For this great issue, Argive Senators,
Joy ye, if joy ye can, but I exult.
Nay, o'er the slain were off'rings meet,—with right
Here were they poured,—with emphasis of right.
