The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 39

OR. Say, dames and damsels, have we heard aright, And speed we to the goal of our desire?

CH. And what desire or quest hath brought thee hither?

OR. I seek Aegisthus' dwelling all this while.

CH. Welcome. The tongue that told thee hath no blame.

OR. Which of you all will signify within Our joint arrival,--not unwelcome here.

CH. This maiden, if the nearest should report.

OR. Mistress, wilt thou go yonder and make known, That certain Phocians on Aegisthus wait?

EL. Oh! can it be that you are come to bring Clear proofs of the sad rumour we have heard?

OR. I know not what ye have heard. Old Strophius Charged me with tidings of Orestes' fate.

EL. What, stranger? How this terror steals on me!

OR. Bearing scant remnants of his body dead In this small vase thou seest, we bring them home.

EL. O sorrow! thou art here: I see full well That burden of my heart in present view.

OR. If thou hast tears for aught Orestes suffered, Know that he lies within this vessel's room.

EL. Ah, sir! by all in Heaven, if yonder urn Hide him, ah! give it once into my hand, That o'er that dust I may lament and mourn Myself and mine own house and all our woe!

OR. Bring it and give her, whosoe'er she be.

For not an enemy--this pet.i.tion shows it-- But of his friends or kindred, is this maid.

[_The urn is given into_ ELECTRA'S _hands_

EL. O monument of him whom o'er all else I loved! sole relic of Orestes' life, How cold in this thy welcome is the hope Wherein I decked thee as I sent thee forth!

Then bright was thy departure, whom I now Bear lightly, a mere nothing, in my hands.

Would I had gone from life, ere I dispatched Thee from my arms that saved thee to a land Of strangers, stealing thee from death! For then Thou hadst been quiet on that far off day, And had thy portion in our father's tomb Now thou hast perished in the stranger land Far from thy sister, lorn and comfortless And I, O wretchedness! neither have bathed And laid thee forth, nor from the blazing fire Collected the sad burden, as was meet But thou, when foreign hands have tended thee Com'st a small handful in a narrow sh.e.l.l Woe for the constant care I spent on thee Of old all vainly, with sweet toil! For never Wast thou thy mother's darling, nay, but mine, And I of all the household most thy nurse, While 'sister, sister,' was thy voice to me But now all this is vanished in one day, Dying in thy death. Thou hast carried all away As with a whirlwind, and art gone. No more My father lives, thyself art lost in death, I am dead, who lived in thee. Our enemies Laugh loudly, and she maddens in her joy, Our mother most unmotherly, of whom Thy secret missives ofttimes told me, thou Wouldst be the punisher. But that fair hope The hapless Genius of thy lot and mine Hath reft away, and gives thee thus to me,-- For thy loved form thy dust and fruitless shade O bitterness! O piteous sight! Woe! woe!

Oh! sent on thy dire journey, dearest one, How thou hast ruined me! Thou hast indeed, Dear brother! Then receive me to thyself, Hide me in this thy covering, there to dwell, Me who am nothing, with thy nothingness, For ever! Yea, when thou wert here above, I ever shared with thee in all, and now I would not have thee shut me from thy tomb.

Oh! let me die and follow thee! the dead, My mind a.s.sures me now, have no more pain.

CH. Electra, think! Thou hadst a mortal sire, And mortal was thy brother. Grieve not far.

OR. O me! What shall I speak, or which way turn The desperate word? I cannot hold my tongue.

EL. What pain o'ercomes thee? Wherefore speak'st thou so?

OR. Can this be famed Electra I behold?

EL. No other. In sad case, as you may see

OR. Ah! deep indeed was this calamity!

EL. Is't possible that thou shouldst grieve for me?

OR. O ruined form! abandoned to disgrace!

EL. 'Tis me you mean, stranger, I feel it now.

OR. Woe 's me! Untrimmed for bridal, hapless maid!

EL. Why this fixed gaze, O stranger! that deep groan?

OR. How all unknowing was I of mine ill!

EL. What thing hath pa.s.sed to make it known to thee?

OR. The sight of thee attired with boundless woe.

EL. And yet thine eye sees little of my pain.

OR. Can aught be still more hateful to be seen?

EL. I have my dwelling with the murderers--

OR. Of whom? What evil would thy words disclose?

EL. Of him who gave me birth. I am their slave.

OR. Whose power compels thee to this sufferance?

EL. One called my mother, most unmotherly.

OR. How? by main force, or by degrading shames?

EL. By force and shames, and every kind of evil.

OR. And is there none to succour or prevent?

EL. None. Him I had, you give me here in dust.

OR. How mine eye pities thee this while, poor maid!

EL. Know now, none ever pitied me but you.

OR. None ever came whose heart like sorrow wrung.

EL. Is't possible we have some kinsman here?

OR. I will tell it, if these women here be friendly.

EL. They are. They may be trusted. Only speak.