Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/310

212 By woman's craft, and now below the earth

Elec. [Sobbing.] Ah me! ah me!

Chor. He reigns in fullest life.

Elec. Fie on it, fie.

Chor. Yes, fie indeed; for she,

Fell traitress

Elec. Perished, you would say?

Chor. E'en so.

Elec. I know, I know it. One was left to care

For him who suffered. None is left to me;

For he who yet remained is snatched away.

Chor. Most piteous thou, and piteous is thy lot.

Elec. That know I well, too well,

In this my life, which through the months runs on,

Filled full of grievous fears,

And bitter, hateful ills.

Chor. We saw what thou dost mourn.

Elec. Cease, cease, to lead me on

Where now not one is left

Chor. What say'st thou? What?

Elec. Where not one helper comes,

From all the hopes of common fatherhood

And stock of noble sire.

Chor. Death is the lot of all.

Elec. What? Is it all men's lot

In that fierce strife of speed,

To fall, as he fell, by an evil fate,

In severed reins entangled?

Chor. Wondrous and dark that doom.

Elec. I trow it was, if in a strange land, he,