Page:Sophocles (Storr 1919) v2.djvu/209

 Could she have ’scaped our notice, had she done it?

No, from Orestes comes this offering.

Courage, dear sister. Never destiny

Ran one unbroken course. On us till now

She frowned; to-day gives promise of her smiles.

Alas! I pity thy simplicity,

Fond sister.

Are not then my tidings glad?

Thou knowst not in what land of dreams thou art.

Wouldst have me doubt the evidence of my eyes?

He is dead, I tell thee; look not to the dead

For a deliverer; that hope has gone.

Ah woe is me! Who told thee of his death?

One who was present when he met his fate.

Where is the man? ’Tis strange, ’tis passing strange.

Within; our mother’s not unwelcome guest.

Ah me! Ah me! And whose then can have been

Those wreaths, that milk outpoured upon the grave?

To me it seems most like that they were brought

A kindly offering to Orestes dead. 197