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'Tis simply told. This woman makes her way

Within, and ye my charges shall obey,

That they who slew by guile a man most rare,

By guile, and snarèd in the self-same snare,

May die, as Lord Apollo hath foretold,

Loxias the Seer, who never failed of old.

First, I array me in a stranger's guise,

With all the gear of travel, and likewise

This man—their guest and battle-guest of yore!

Then hither shall we come, and stand before

The courtyard gate, and call. Aye, we will teach

Our tongues an accent of Parnassian speech,

Like men in Phôkis born. And say, perchance

None of the warders with glad countenance

Will ope to us, the House being so beset

With evil: aye, what then? Then obdurate

We shall wait on, till all who pass that way

Shall make surmise against the House, and say

"What ails Aigisthos? Wherefore doth he close

His door against the traveller, if he knows

And is within?" So comes it, soon or late,

I cross the threshold of the courtyard gate;

And entering find him on my father's throne.

Or, say he is abroad and comes anon,

And hears, and calls for me—and there am I

Before him, face to face and eye to eye;

"Whence comes the traveller?" ere he speaks it, dead

I lay him, huddled round this leaping blade!

Then shall the Curse have drunken of our gore

Her third, last, burning cup, and thirst no more.