'Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child.
The absent husband toils for them at home.
Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child.
Nay, 'tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I.
Beware thy mother's vengeful hounds from hell.
How shall I 'scape my father's, sparing thee?
Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard.
My father's fate ordains this doom for thee.
Ah me! this snake it was I bore and nursed.
Ay, right prophetic was thy visioned fear.
Shameful thy deed was-die the death of shame!
He drives her into the house before him.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Lo, even for these I mourn, a double death:
Yet since Orestes, driven on by doom,
Thus crowns the height of murders manifold,
I say, 'tis well-that not in night and death
Should sink the eye and light of this our home.
There came on Priam's race and name
A vengeance; though it tarried long,
With heavy doom it came.
Came, too, on Agamemnon's hall
A lion-pair, twin swordsmen strong.
And last, the heritage doth fall
To him, to whom from Pythian cave
The god his deepest counsel gave.
Cry out, rejoice! our kingly hall
Hath 'scaped from ruin-ne'er again
Its ancient wealth be wasted all
By two usurpers, sin-defiled-
An evil path of woe and bane!
On him who dealt the dastard blow
Comes Craft, Revenge's scheming child.
And hand in hand with him doth go,