But for thy foes, Father, this prayer I urge,
That Justice, thine avenger, may appear,
So that thy slayers may in turn be slain.
For them an evil utterance I pour.
To us upsend these blessings from below, 140
With gods, and Earth, and Justice conquest-crowned."
Over such prayers, libations, lo! I pour.
Yours be it now, lifting the solemn wail,
To crown with dole the pæan of the dead.
[While the Chorus sings the following Ode, Electra ascends the steps of the tomb, and pours the libation.]
Chorus. Strophe.
†Drop ye for the dead
Tears with pattering sound;
Lustral rain is shed
O'er the hallowed mound,
From the pure which screeneth bale,
While the powers of Evil quail.
Hear, O master, at thy tomb, 150
Whispered sounds from sorrow's murky gloom.
Antistrophe.
Now in measured flow
Tune the notes of woe!
When will warrior brave,
†(War-god strong to save
Houses in the dust laid low,)
Hurl the spear, from hornèd bow
Wing the arrow's deadly flight,
Or wield the hilted brand in closer fight?
