Wouldst have me doubt the evidence of my eyes?
He is dead, I tell thee; look not to the dead
For a deliverer; that hope has gone.
Ah woe is me! Who told thee of his death?
One who was present when he met his fate.
Where is the man? ’Tis strange, ’tis passing strange.
Within; our mother’s not unwelcome guest.
Ah me! Ah me! And whose then can have been
Those wreaths, that mill outpoured upon the grave?
To me it seems most like that they were brought
A kindly offering to Orestes dead.
And I, poor fool, was hurrying in hot haste
To bring my joyful message, unaware
Of our ill plight; and now that I have brought it
I find fresh sorrows added to the old.
So stands the case; but be advised by me
And lighten this the burden of our woes.
Wouldst have me raise the dead to life again?
I meant not that; I am not so demented.
What wouldst thou then that lies within my powers?
Be bold to execute what I enjoin.
If it can profit, I will not refuse.
Success, remember, is the meed of toil.
I know it, and will help thee all I can.
Then listen how I am resolved to act.
From friends, thou knowest now as well as I,
We cannot look for succour; death hath snatched
All from us and we two are left alone.
While yet my brother lived and tidings came
Of his prosperity, I still had hopes
That he would yet appear to avenge his sire;
But now that he is dead, to thee I turn;
From thee a sister craves a sister’s aid,
To slay—shrink not—our father’s murderer,
Aegisthus. There, I plainly tell thee all.
Why hesitate? What faintest ray of hope
Is left to excuse thy lethargy, whose lot
Henceforth must be to mourn the ancestral wealth
Whereof thou art defrauded, to lament
A youth that withers fast, unloved, unwed.
For dream not wedded bliss can e’er be thine;
Too wary is Aegisthus to permit
That children should be born of thee or me
For his destruction. But, if thou attend
My counsel, thou shalt reap large benefits:
First, from our dead sire, and our brother too,
A name for piety; and furthermore,
A free-born woman thou shalt stand revealed;
And worthy spousals shall be thine, for worth
In women ever captivates all men.
Seest thou not too the honour thou shalt win
Both for thyself and me, if thou consent?
What countryman, what stranger will not greet
Our presence, when he sees us, with acclaim?
“Look, friends, upon this sister pair,” he’ll cry,
“Who raised their father’s house, who dared confront
Their foes in power, who jeopardised their lives
In bloody vengeance. Honour to the pair,
Honour and worship! Yea at every feast
Let all the people laud their bravery.”
So will our fame be bruited far and wide,
Nor shall our glory fail in life or death.
Sweet sister, hear me, take thy father’s part,
Side with thy brother, give me, give thyself
Surcease of sorrow; and remember this,
A life of shame is shame for noble souls.
Forethought for those that speak and those that hear,
In such grave issues, is most serviceable.
Before she spake, were not her mind perverse,
She had remembered caution, but she, friends,
Remembers not. To Electra. What glamour fooled thee thus
To take up arms thus boldly and enlist me?
Thou art a woman, see’st thou not? no man,
No match in battle for thine adversaries;
Their fortune rises with the flowing tide,
Ours ebbs and leaves us soon a stranded hulk;
Who then could hope to grapple with a foe
So mighty and escape without a fall?
Bethink thee, if thy speech were overheard,
We are like to change our evil plight for worse.
Small comfort or commodity to win
Glory and die an ignominious death!
Mere death were easy, but to crave for death
And be denied that last boon—there’s the sting.
Nay, I entreat, before we wreck ourselves
And perish root and branch, restrain thy rage.
All thou hast said for me shall be unsaid,
An empty breath. O learn at length, though late,
To yield, nor match thy weakness with their strength.
Hearken! for mortal man there is no gift
Greater than forethought and sobriety.
’Tis as I thought: before thy answer came
I knew full well thou wouldst refuse thine aid.
Unaided then and by myself I’ll do it,
For done it must be, though I work alone.
Ah well-a-way!
Would thou hadst been so minded on that day
Our father died! What couldst thou not have wrought!
My temper was the same, my mind less ripe.
Study to keep the same mind all thy days.
This counsel means refusal of thine aid.
Yes, for misfortune dogs such enterprise.
I praise thy prudence, hate thy cowardice.
E’en when thou shalt commend me, I will bear
Thy commendation no less patiently.
That trial thou wilt ne’er endure from me.
Who lives will see; time yet may prove thee wrong.
Begone! in thee there is no power to aid.
Not so; in thee there is no will to learn.
Go to thy mother; tell it all to her.
My hatred of thee does not reach so far.
Thou wouldst dishonour me; that much is sure.
Dishonour? No, I seek to save thine honour.
Am I to make thy rule of honour mine?
When thou art wise, then thou shalt guide us both.
Sound words; ’tis sad they are so misapplied.
Thou hittest well the blot that is thine own.
How? dost deny the plea I urge is just?
No; but e’en justice sometimes worketh harm.
I choose not to conform to such a rule.
Well, if thy purpose hold, thou’lt own me right.
It holds; I shall not swerve in awe of thee.
Is this thy last word? Wilt not be advised?
No, naught is loathlier than ill advice.
Thou seemest deaf to all that I can urge.
My resolution was not born to-day.
Then I
