Page:Electra of Euripides (Murray 1913).djvu/46

30 Thou Tyndarid woman! Fair and tall

Those warriors were, and o'er them all

One king great-hearted,

Whom thou and thy false love did slay:

Therefore the tribes of Heaven one day

For these thy dead shall send on thee

An iron death: yea, men shall see

The white throat drawn, and blood's red spray,

And lips in terror parted.

[As they cease, there enters from the left a very old man, hearing a lamb, a wineskin, and a wallet.

Where is my little Princess? Ah, not now;

But still my queen, who tended long ago

The lad that was her father. How steep-set

These last steps to her porch! But faint not yet:

Onward, ye failing knees and back with pain

Bowed, till we look on that dear face again.

Ah, daughter, is it thou?—Lo, here I am,

With gifts from all my store; this suckling lamb

Fresh from the ewe, green crowns for joyfulness,

And creamy things new-curdled from the press.

And this long-storèd juice of vintages

Forgotten, cased in fragrance: scant it is,

But passing sweet to mingle nectar-wise

With feebler wine.—Go, bear them in; mine eyes

Where is my cloak?—They are all blurred with tears.