Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/291

Rh Chor. One who works great things oft is slow in them.

Elec. I was not slow when I did save his life.

Chor. Take heart. Right noble he, to help his friends.

Elec. I trust, or else I had not lived till now.

Chor. Not one word more; for coming from the house

I see thy sister, of one father born,

And of one mother, fair Chrysothemis;

And in her hand she brings sepulchral gifts,

Such as are offered to the souls that sleep.

Chrys. What plaint is this thou utterest, sister dear,

Here at the outlet of the palace gates?

And wilt not learn the lessons time should teach

To yield no poor compliance to a wrath

That is but vain? This much myself I know;

I grieve at what befalls us. Had I strength,

I would show plainly what I think of them;

But now it seems most wise in weather foul,

To slack my sail, and make no idle show

Of doing something when I cannot harm;

And on this wise I wish thee too to act;

While yet I grant that what thou think'st is just,

Not what I say. But if I wish to live

In freedom, I must bow to those that rule.

Elec. Strange is it thou, who callest such a man

Thy father, should'st forget him, and should'st care

For such a mother. All this good advice

Thou giv'st to me is not thine own but hers,

Thy lesson learnt by rote. Take then thy choice;

Or thou hast lost thy reason, or, if sane,

Thou hast no memory of thy dearest friends,