The Electra of Euripides - LightNovelsOnl.com
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[_Attendants bring in the body of_ AEGISTHUS _on a bier_.
Wouldst thou fling This lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear?
Or up, where all the vultures of the air May glut them, pierce and nail him for a sign Far off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine.
ELECTRA.
It shames me; yet, G.o.d knows, I hunger sore--
ORESTES.
What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermore Need touch thee.
ELECTRA.
To let loose upon the dead My hate! Perchance to rouse on mine own head The sleeping hate of the world?
ORESTES.
No man that lives Shall scathe thee by one word.
ELECTRA.
Our city gives Quick blame; and little love have men for me.
ORESTES.
If aught thou hast unsaid, sister, be free And speak. Between this man and us no bar Cometh nor stint, but the utter rage of war.
[_She goes and stands over the body. A moment's silence_.
ELECTRA.
Ah me, what have I? What first flood of hate To loose upon thee? What last curse to sate My pain, or river of wild words to flow Bank-high between?... Nothing?... And yet I know There hath not pa.s.sed one sun, but through the long Cold dawns, over and over, like a song, I have said them--words held back, O, some day yet To flash into thy face, would but the fret Of ancient fear fall loose and let me free.
And free I am, now; and can pay to thee At last the weary debt.
Oh, thou didst kill My soul within. Who wrought thee any ill, That thou shouldst make me fatherless? Aye, me And this my brother, loveless, solitary?
'Twas thou, didst bend my mother to her shame: Thy weak hand murdered him who led to fame The hosts of h.e.l.las--thou, that never crossed O'erseas to Troy!... G.o.d help thee, wast thou lost In blindness, long ago, dreaming, some-wise, She would be true with thee, whose sin and lies Thyself had tasted in my father's place?
And then, that thou wert happy, when thy days Were all one pain? Thou knewest ceaselessly Her kiss a thing unclean, and she knew thee A lord so little true, so dearly won!
So lost ye both, being in falseness one, What fortune else had granted; she thy curse, Who marred thee as she loved thee, and thou hers...
And on thy ways thou heardst men whispering, "Lo, the Queen's husband yonder"--not "the King."
And then the lie of lies that dimmed thy brow, Vaunting that by thy gold, thy chattels, Thou Wert Something; which themselves are nothingness.
Shadows, to clasp a moment ere they cease.
The thing thou art, and not the things thou hast, Abideth, yea, and bindeth to the last Thy burden on thee: while all else, ill-won And sin-companioned, like a flower o'erblown, Flies on the wind away.
Or didst them find In women ... Women?... Nay, peace, peace! The blind Could read thee. Cruel wast thou in thine hour, Lord of a great king's house, and like a tower Firm in thy beauty. [_Starting back with a look of loathing_.
Ah, that girl-like face!
G.o.d grant, not that, not that, but some plain grace Of manhood to the man who brings me love: A father of straight children, that shall move Swift on the wings of War.
So, get thee gone!
Naught knowing how the great years, rolling on, Have laid thee bare, and thy long debt full paid.
O vaunt not, if one step be proudly made In evil, that all Justice is o'ercast: Vaunt not, ye men of sin, ere at the last The thin-drawn marge before you glimmereth Close, and the goal that wheels 'twixt life and death.
LEADER.
Justice is mighty. Pa.s.sing dark hath been His sin: and dark the payment of his sin.
ELECTRA (_with a weary sigh, turning from the body_).
Ah me! Go some of you, bear him from sight, That when my mother come, her eyes may light On nothing, nothing, till she know the sword....
[_The body is borne into the hut_. PYLADES _goes with it_.
ORESTES (_looking along the road_).
Stay, 'tis a new thing! We have still a word To speak...
ELECTRA.
What? Not a rescue from the town Thou seest?
ORESTES.
'Tis my mother comes: my own Mother, that bare me. [_He takes off his crown_.
ELECTRA (_springing, as it were, to life again, and moving where she can see the road_).
Straight into the snare!
Aye, there she cometh,--Welcome in thy rare Chariot! All welcome in thy brave array!
ORESTES.
What would we with our mother? Didst thou say Kill her?
ELECTRA (_turning on him_).
What? Is it pity? Dost thou fear To see thy mother's shape?
ORESTES.
'Twas she that bare My body into life. She gave me suck.
How can I strike her?
ELECTRA.
Strike her as she struck Our father!
ORESTES (_to himself, brooding_).
Phoebus, G.o.d, was all thy mind Turned unto darkness?
ELECTRA.
If thy G.o.d be blind, Shalt thou have light?
