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Shall first by me be utterèd?

What speech of craft—nor all revealing,

Nor all too warily concealing—

Ending my speech, shall aid the deed?

For lo! in readiness is laid

The dark emprise, the rending blade;

Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve

The dateless doom of Atreus' name,

Or—kindling torch and joyful flame

In sign of new-won liberty—

Once more Orestes shall retrieve

His father's wealth, and, throned on high,

Shall hold the city's fealty.

So mighty is the grasp whereby,

Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw,

Unseconded, a double foe.

Ho for the victory!

Ho there, ho! how is't within?

Is't done? is't over? Stand we here aloof

While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem

Of this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled.

[Enter a Slave.

O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death!

Woe, woe, and woe again, Ægisthus gone!

Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts

Of the queen's chamber. O for some young strength

To match the need! but aid availeth nought