Page:Electra of Euripides (Murray 1913).djvu/22

6 May find my father's ear. The woman bred

Of Tyndareus, my mother—on her head

Be curses!—from my house hath outcast me;

She hath borne children to our enemy;

She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught

[As the bitterness of her tone increases, the comes forward.

What wouldst thou now, my sad one, ever fraught

With toil to lighten my toil? And so soft

Thy nurture was! Have I not chid thee oft,

And thou wilt cease not, serving without end?

O friend, my friend, as God might be my friend,

Thou only hast not trampled on my tears.

Life scarce can be so hard, 'mid many fears

And many shames, when mortal heart can find

Somewhere one healing touch, as my sick mind

Finds thee. And should I wait thy word, to endure

A little for thine easing, yea, or pour

My strength out in thy toiling fellowship?

Thou hast enough with fields and kine to keep;

'Tis mine to make all bright within the door.

'Tis joy to him that toils, when toil is o'er,

To find home waiting, full of happy things.