The Electra of Euripides Part 17

She stretched her hand to my cheek, And there brake from her lips a moan; 'Mercy, my child, my own!'

Her hand clung to my cheek; Clung, and my arm was weak; And the sword fell and was gone.

CHORUS.

Unhappy woman, could thine eye Look on the blood, and see her lie, Thy mother, where she turned to die?

ORESTES.

I lifted over mine eyes My mantle: blinded I smote, As one smiteth a sacrifice; And the sword found her throat.

ELECTRA.

I gave thee the sign and the word; I touched with mine hand thy sword.

LEADER.

Dire is the grief ye have wrought.

ORESTES.

Sister, touch her again: Oh, veil the body of her; Shed on her raiment fair, And close that death-red stain.

--Mother! And didst thou bear, Bear in thy bitter pain, To life, thy murderer?

[_The two kneel over the body of_ CLYTEMNESTRA, _and cover her with raiment_.

ELECTRA.

On her that I loved of yore, Robe upon robe I cast: On her that I hated sore.

CHORUS.

O House that hath hated sore, Behold thy peace at the last!

LEADER.

Ha, see: above the roof-tree high There s.h.i.+neth ... Is some spirit there Of earth or heaven? That thin air Was never trod by things that die!

What bodes it now that forth they fare, To men revealed visibly?

[_There appears in the air a vision of_ CASTOR _and_ POLYDEUCES. _The mortals kneel or veil their faces._

CASTOR.

Thou Agamemnon's Son, give ear! 'Tis we.

Castor and Polydeuces, call to thee, G.o.d's Hors.e.m.e.n and thy mother's brethren twain.

An Argive s.h.i.+p, spent with the toiling main, We bore but now to peace, and, here withal Being come, have seen thy mother's b.l.o.o.d.y fall, Our sister's. Righteous is her doom this day, But not thy deed. And Phoebus, Phoebus ... Nay; He is my lord; therefore I hold my peace.

Yet though in light he dwell, no light was this He showed to thee, but darkness! Which do thou Endure, as man must, chafing not. And now Fare forth where Zeus and Fate have laid thy life.

The maid Electra thou shalt give for wife To Pylades; then turn thy head and flee From Argos' land. 'Tis never more for thee To tread this earth where thy dead mother lies.

And, lo, in the air her Spirits, bloodhound eyes, Most horrible yet G.o.dlike, hard at heel Following shall scourge thee as a burning wheel, Speed-maddened. Seek thou straight Athena's land, And round her awful image clasp thine hand, Praying: and she will fence them back, though hot With flickering serpents, that they touch thee not, Holding above thy brow her gorgon s.h.i.+eld.

There is a hill in Athens, Ares' field, Where first for that first death by Ares done On Halirrhothius, Poseidon's son, Who wronged his daughter, the great G.o.ds of yore Held judgment: and true judgments evermore Flow from that Hill, trusted of man and G.o.d.

There shalt thou stand arraigned of this blood; And of those judges half shall lay on thee Death, and half pardon; so shalt thou go free.

For Phoebus in that hour, who bade thee shed Thy mother's blood, shall take on his own head The stain thereof. And ever from that strife The law shall hold, that when, for death or life Of one pursued, men's voices equal stand, Then Mercy conquereth.--But for thee, the band Of Spirits dread, down, down, in very wrath, Shall sink beside that Hill, making their path Through a dim chasm, the which shall aye be trod By reverent feet, where men may speak with G.o.d.

But thou forgotten and far off shalt dwell, By great Alpheus' waters, in a dell Of Arcady, where that gray Wolf-G.o.d's wall Stands holy. And thy dwelling men shall call Orestes Town. So much to thee be spoke.

But this dead man, Aegisthus, all the folk Shall bear to burial in a high green grave Of Argos. For thy mother, she shall have Her tomb from Menelaus, who hath come This day, at last, to Argos, bearing home Helen. From Egypt comes she, and the hall Of Proteus, and in Troy hath ne'er at all Set foot. 'Twas but a wraith of Helen, sent By Zeus, to make much wrath and ravishment.

So forth for home, bearing the virgin bride, Let Pylades make speed, and lead beside Thy once-named brother, and with golden store Stablish his house far off on Phocis' sh.o.r.e.

Up, gird thee now to the steep Isthmian way, Seeking Athena's blessed rock; one day, Thy doom of blood fulfilled and this long stress Of penance past, thou shalt have happiness.

LEADER (_looking up_).

Is it for us, O Seed of Zeus, To speak and hear your words again!

CASTOR. Speak: of this blood ye bear no stain.

ELECTRA. I also, sons of Tyndareus,

My kinsmen; may my word be said?

CASTOR. Speak: on Apollo's head we lay The b.l.o.o.d.y doings of this day.

LEADER. Ye G.o.ds, ye brethren of the dead,

Why held ye not the deathly herd Of Keres back from off this home?

CASTOR. There came but that which needs must come By ancient Fate and that dark word

That rang from Phoebus in his mood.

ELECTRA. And what should Phoebus seek with me, Or all G.o.d's oracles that be, That I must bear my mother's blood?

CASTOR. Thy hand was as thy brother's hand, Thy doom shall be as his. One stain, From dim forefathers on the twain Lighting, hath sapped your hearts as sand.

ORESTES (_who has never raised his head, nor spoken to the G.o.ds_).

After so long, sister, to see And hold thee, and then part, then part, By all that chained thee to my heart Forsaken, and forsaking thee!

CASTOR. Husband and house are hers. She bears No bitter judgment, save to go Exiled from Argos.

ELECTRA. And what woe, What tears are like an exile's tears?

ORESTES. Exiled and more am I; impure, A murderer in a stranger's hand: CASTOR. Fear not. There dwells in Pallas' land All holiness. Till then endure!

[ORESTES _and_ ELECTRA _embrace_

ORESTES. Aye, closer; clasp my body well, And let thy sorrow loose, and shed, As o'er the grave of one new dead, Dead evermore, thy last farewell! [_A sound of weeping_.

CASTOR. Alas, what would ye? For that cry Ourselves and all the sons of heaven Have pity. Yea, our peace is riven By the strange pain of these that die.

ORESTES. No more to see thee! ELECTRA. Nor thy breath Be near my face! ORESTES. Ah, so it ends.

ELECTRA. Farewell, dear Argos. All ye friends, Farewell! ORESTES. O faithful unto death,

Thou goest? ELECTRA. Aye, I pa.s.s from you, Soft-eyed at last. ORESTES. Go, Pylades, And G.o.d go with you! Wed in peace My tall Electra, and be true.

[ELECTRA _and_ PYLADES _depart to the left._

CASTOR.