Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/330

232 Clytem. [Within.] My son, my son,

Have pity on thy mother!

Εlec. Thou had'st none

On him, nor on the father that begat him.

Chor. Ο land! Ο miserable race! Thy doom

Each day is "perish, perish utterly."

Clytem. [Within.] Ah! I am smitten.

Εlec. Smite her yet again,

If thou hast strength for it.

Clytem. [Within.] Ah! Blow on blow!

Εlec. Would that Ægisthos shared them.

Chor. Yes. The curse

Is now fulfilled. The buried live again;

For they who died long since now drain in turn

The blood of those that slew them.

See! They come;

And lo! their crimsoned hands drip drops of gore

Poured out to Ares; and I dare not blame.

Εlec. How fare ye now, Orestes?

Ores. All within

Is well, if well Apollo prophesied.

Εlec. And is she dead, vile wretch?

Ores. Yes. Fear thou not

Thy mother's mood shall e'er shame thee again.

Chor. Hush! for I see Ægisthos full in sight.

Εlec. Back, back, ye boys!

[Thrusts and behind the scene.

Ores. [As he goes.] And see ye where this man ?

Εlec. He from the suburbs comes upon us now,

Rejoicing.

Chor. Go, full speed, behind the doors,

That ye, one work well done, may yet again