Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/177

433–469]

And criminal to offer to thy sire

Rites and libations from a hateful wife.

Then cast them to the winds, or deep in dust

Conceal them, where no particle may reach

His resting-place: but lie in store for her

When she goes underground. Sure, were she not

Most hardened of all women that have been,

She ne’er had sent those loveless offerings

To grace the sepulchre of him she slew.

For think how likely is the buried king

To take such present kindly from her hand,

Who slew him like an alien enemy,

Dishonoured even in death, and mangled him,

And wiped the death-stain with his flowing locks—

Sinful purgation! Think you that you bear

In those cold gifts atonement for her guilt?

It is not possible. Wherefore let be.

But take a ringlet from thy comely head,

And this from mine, that lingers on my brow

Longing to shade his tomb. Ah, give it to him,

All I can give, and this my maiden-zone,

Not daintily adorned, as once erewhile.

Then, humbly kneeling, pray that from the ground

He would arise to help us ’gainst his foes,

And grant his son Orestes with high hand

Strongly to trample on his enemies;

That in our time to come from ampler stores

We may endow him, than are ours to-day.

I cannot but imagine that his will

Hath part in visiting her sleep with fears.

But howsoe’er, I pray thee, sister mine,

Do me this service, and thyself, and him,

Dearest of all the world to me and thee,

The father of us both, who rests below.

. She counsels piously; and thou, dear maid,

If thou art wise, wilt do her bidding here.

. Yea, when a thing is right, it is not well

Idly to wrangle, but to act with speed.

Only, dear friends, in this mine enterprise,

Let me have silence from your lips, I pray;