Page:Sophocles (Storr 1919) v2.djvu/139



O Child of Agamemnon, who sometime

Was Captain of the host that leaguered Troy,

’Tis thine at last to view before thee spread

The scene thy heart was set on. Yonder lies

Old Argos thou so long hast yearned to see,

Once refuge of the gadfly-driven maid,

Daughter of Inachus; and, Orestes, here

The market-place from the Wolf-slayer named;

There on our left is Hera’s far-famed shrine;

And lo! before us, at our very feet

Thou seest Mycenae of the golden hoard,

And there the palace grim of Pelops’ line,

Deep stained with murder. Thence I bore thee once

Snatched from beside thy father’s bleeding corse

By kindly hands, thy sister’s; rescued thus

I fostered thee till thou hadst reached the age

To be the avenger of thy father’s blood.

But now, Orestes, and thou, Pylades,

Dearest of friends, the hour for you is ripe

To take resolve and that right speedily.

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