Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Jebb 1917).djvu/281

1346—1374] . Who is this, brother? I pray thee, tell me.

. Dost thou not perceive? . I cannot guess.

. Knowest thou not the man to whose hands thou gavest me once?

. What man? How sayest thou?

. By whose hands, through thy forethought, I was secretly conveyed forth to Phocian soil.

. Is this he in whom, alone of many, I found a true ally of old, when our sire was slain?

. 'Tis he; question me no further.

. O joyous day! O sole preserver of Agamemnon's house, how hast thou come? Art thou he indeed, who didst save my brother and myself from many sorrows? O dearest hands; O messenger whose feet were kindly servants How couldst thou be with me so long, and remain unknown, nor give a ray of light, but afflict me by fables, while possessed of truths most sweet? Hail, father,—for 'tis a father that I seem to behold! All hail,—and know that I have hated thee, and loved thee, in one day, as never man before!

. Enough, methinks; as for the story of the past, many are the circling nights, and days as many, which shall show it thee, Electra, in its fulness.

(To Orestes and Pylades.) But this is my counsel to you twain, who stand there—now is the time to act; now Clytaemnestra is alone,—no man is now within: but, if ye pause, consider that ye will have to fight, not with the inmates alone, but with other foes more numerous and better skilled.

. Pylades, this our task seems no longer to crave many words, but rather that we should enter the house