Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/164

94 And her, Electra, offspring sire-bereft,

Thus doomed to common exile from our home.

And if of sire who greatly honoured thee

With many a sacrifice, thou slay the brood,

Whence, from like hand, wilt festive gifts obtain?

As none, if thou the eaglets slay, henceforth

To mortals will thy trusty omens bear;

Nor, if all withered, shall this royal stock,

On sacrificial days, support thine altars.

O foster it, and raise, from low estate,

A house which now seems fallen utterly.

Oh children, Saviours of your father's hearth,

Forbear, lest some one should o'erhear your words

And all, with gossip-loving tongue, rehearse

To those in power; whom dead I fain would see

Blazing 'mid spirting pine-wood's pitchy brands.

Of Loxias the mighty oracle

Will not betray me, urging me to brave

This peril, oft exhorting me, and 'gainst

My inmost reins tempestuous ills denouncing,

Failed I to chase my father's murderers.

Stript bare and goaded on by forfeiture,

He bade me slay them as my sire they slew,

Declaring I should else atonement make

With my own life and many grievous woes.