Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/295

Rh Put nothing on the tomb; for nature's law

Forbids it as unholy thus to bring

Funereal offerings, lustral waters pour,

From wife unfriendly, on a father's grave.

No! cast them to the rivers, hide them deep

In dust where never aught of them shall come

To where my father sleeps; but when she dies,

Let them be stored below as gifts for her.

For, surely, were she not the boldest found

Among all women, ne'er would she have poured

These hateful offerings o'er the man she slew.

Think, if the dead who sleeps in yonder tomb

Will welcome kindly gifts like these from her,

By whom, most foully slain as hated foe,

His feet and hands were lopped off shamefully,

Who wiped upon his head the blood-stained knife,

As if to purge the guilt. And dost thou think

To bring these gifts redeeming her from guilt?

Not so. Nay, put them by, and then do thou,

Cutting the highest locks that crown thy head,

Yea, and mine also, poor although I be,

(Small offering, yet 'tis all the store I have,)

Give to him, yes, this lock, untrimmed, unmeet

For suppliant's vow, and this my girdle, decked

With no gay fringe. And ask thou, falling low,

That he will come to us in mood of grace,

From out the earth, a helper 'gainst our foes,

And that his son, Orestes, with a hand

Victorious, trample upon those his foes,

In fullest life returning, so that we