That I, from out this rumour of my death,
Shall, like a meteor, blaze upon my foes.
But oh! thou fatherland, ye Gods of home,
Receive me, prosper me in this my way;
And thou, my father's house, (for lo! I come,
Sent by the Gods to cleanse thee righteously,)70
Send me not back dishonoured from the land,
But lord of ancient wealth, and found at last
Restorer of my race. So far I 've said:
And now, old friend, 'tis thine to watch thy task:
We twain go forth. The true, right time is come,
That mightiest master of all works of men.
Elec. [Within.] Woe, woe is me! Ο misery!
Attend. [To Orestes.] I thought, my son, but now I heard a cry
As of some hand-maid wailing within doors.
Ores. And can it be Electra, helpless one?80
Shall we remain and listen to her plaint?
Attend. In no wise. Let us not attempt to do
Aught else before what Loxias bade us do,
And start from that, upon thy father's grave
Pouring the lustral stream. For this shall bring
Our victory,[1] and strength in all we do.
Enter Electra, followed by a train of Maidens.
Ο holy light of day,
And air with earth commensurate,
Many the wailing songs,
Many the echoing blow,
On bosom stained with blood90
- ↑ The two words, "victory and strength," habitually went together in the Pythian oracles and in formulæ of prayer. They were to an Athenian audience what "grace and mercy," "glory and honour," would be to us.
