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[190-240] Electra 509
spised alien, I serve in the halls of my father, clad in this mean garb,
and standing at a meagre board.
CHORUS
strophe 3
Piteous was the voice heard at his return, and piteous, as thy sire
lay on the festal couch, when the straight, swift blow was dealt him
with the blade of bronze. Guile was the plotter, Lust the slayer, dread
parents of a dreadful shape; whether it was mortal that wrought
therein, or god.
ELECTRA
O that bitter day, bitter beyond all that have come to me; O that
night, O the horrors of that unutterable feast, the ruthless deathstrokes
that my father saw from the hands of twain, who took my life
captive by treachery, who doomed me to woe! May the great god of
Olympus give them sufferings in requital, and never may their splendour
bring them joy, who have done such deeds!
CHORUS
antistrophe 3
Be advised to say no more; canst thou not see what conduct it is
which already plunges thee so cruelly in self-made miseries? Thou
hast greatly aggravated thy troubles, ever breeding wars with thy
sullen soul; but such strife should not be pushed to a conflict with
the strong.
ELECTRA
I have been forced to it,—forced by dread causes; I know my own
passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the causes are so dire, I
will never curb these frenzied plaints, while life is in me. Who indeed,
ye kindly sisterhood, who that thinks aright, would deem that
any word of solace could avail me? Forbear, forbear, my comforters!
Such ills must be numbered with those which have no cure; I can
never know a respite from my sorrows, or a limit to this wailing.
CHORUS
epode
At least it is in love, like a true-hearted mother, that I dissuade
thee from adding misery to miseries.
ELECTRA
But what measure is there in my wretchedness? Say, how can it
be right to neglect the dead? Was that impiety ever born in mortal?
Never may I have praise of such; never, when my lot is cast