Page:Electra of Euripides (Murray 1913).djvu/38

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God, 'tis too much! To hear of such things done

Even to a stranger, stings a man. But speak,

Tell of thy life, that I may know, and seek

Thy brother with a tale that must be heard

Howe'er it sicken. If mine eyes be blurred,

Remember, 'tis the fool that feels not. Aye,

Wisdom is full of pity; and thereby

Men pay for too much wisdom with much pain.

My heart is moved as this man's. I would fain

Learn all thy tale. Here dwelling on the hills

Little I know of Argos and its ills.

If I must speak—and at love's call, God knows,

I fear not—I will tell thee all; my woes,

My father's woes, and—O, since thou hast stirred

This storm of speech, thou bear him this my word—

His woes and shame! Tell of this narrow cloak

In the wind; this grime and reek of toil, that choke

My breathing; this low roof that bows my head

After a king's. This raiment thread by thread,

'Tis I must weave it, or go bare—must bring,

Myself, each jar of water from the spring.

No holy day for me, no festival,

No dance upon the green! From all, from all

I am cut off. No portion hath my life

'Mid wives of Argos, being no true wife.

No portion where the maidens throng to praise

Castor—my Castor, whom in ancient days,