Page:Sophocles (Storr 1919) v2.djvu/207



What proof, what evidence! What sight, poor girl,

Lit this illusion in thy fevered brain?

O, as thou lov’st me, listen, then decide,

My story told, if I am mad or sane.

Well, if it pleases thee to speak, speak on.

I will, and tell thee all that I have seen.

As I approached our sire’s ancestral tomb,

I noted that the barrow still was wet

With streams of milk, and round the monument

Garlands were wreathed of every flower that blows,

I marvelled much and peered around in dread

Of someone watching me; but when I found

That nothing stirred, nearer the tomb I crept;

And there upon the grave’s edge lay a lock

Of hair fresh-severed; at the sight there flashed

A dear familiar image on my soul,

Orestes; ’twas a token and a sign

From him whom most of all the world I love.

I took it in my hands and not a sound

I uttered but my eyes o’erbrimmed for joy.

I knew, I knew it then as now, for sure:

This shining treasure could be none but his.

Who else could set it there save thee or me?

And ’twas not I assuredly, nor thou;

How couldst thou, when thou mayst not leave the house

Not e’en to sacrifice? Our mother then?

When did our mother’s heart that way incline? 195