Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/287

Rh Guile was it that devised,

And lust that struck the blow,

Engendering foully foulest form of sin,

Whether it was a God,

Or one of mortal men,

That did the deed of guilt.

Elec. Ah, day of all that ever came to me,

Most horrible by far!

Ο night! Ο sufferings, strange as wonderful,

Of banquets foul and dark!

Dread forms of death which he, my father, saw

Wrought out by their joint hands,

Who, traitorous, murdered him who was my life,

And so brought death to me.

May He who dwelleth on Olympos high,

God, the Almighty One,

Give them for this to groan all grievously;

And ne'er may they in prosperous days rejoice,

Who did such deeds as this.

Chor. Take heed, take heed, and utter speech no more.

Hast thou no thought from whence,

Into what evils dread,

Sorrows thou mak'st thine own,

Thou fallest piteously?

For thou hast reaped excess of misery,

Still brooding over war

In thine unquiet heart;

With kings 'tis ill to strive.

Elec. I was sore vexed with evils dire, yea, dire;

I know it well; my wrath escapes me not.

Yet in this hard, hard fate,

I will not cease from uttering woe on woe,

While life still holds me here.

For who is there, companions kind and true,