Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/215

Rh Thus far for Helen: 'tis thy doom to pass,

Orestes, o'er the borders of this land,

And dwell a year's round on Parrhasian soil,

Which lips Azanian and Arcadian

Shall from thine exile call "Orestes' Land."

Thence shalt thou fare to the Athenians' burg,

And stand thy trial for thy mother's blood

Against the Avengers Three. The Gods shall there

Sit judges, and on Arês' Holy Hill

Pass righteous sentence: thou shalt win thy cause.

Hermionê, at whose throat is thy sword,

Orestes, is thy destined bride: who thinks

To wed her, shall not—Neoptolemus;

For doomed is he to die by Delphian swords,

When for his sire he claims redress of me.

On Pylades thy sister's plighted hand

Bestow: a life of bliss awaiteth him.

Menelaus, leave Orestes Argos' throne.

Go, hold the sceptre of the Spartan land,

As thy wife's dower, since she laid on thee

Travail untold to this day evermore.

I will to Argos reconcile this man

Whom I constrained to shed his mother's blood.

Hail, Prophet Loxias, to thine oracles!

No lying prophet wert thou then, but true.

And yet a fear crept o'er me, lest I heard,

Seeming to hear thy voice, a Fury-fiend.

Yet well ends all: thy words will I obey.

Lo, from the sword Hermione I release,

And pledge me, when her sire bestows, to wed.