FullReads

EL.
Woe!

CH.
Weep not, calm thy fears.

EL.
You kill me.

CH.
How?

EL.
To breathe
A hope for one beneath
So clearly sunk in death,
‘Tis to afflict me more
Already pining sore.

CH.
5. One in a woman’s toils
Was tangled[8], buried by her glittering coils,
Who now beneath–

EL.
Ah woe!

CH.
6. Rules with a spirit unimpaired and strong.

EL.
O dreadful!

CH.
7. Dreadful was the wrong.

EL.
But she was quelled.

CH.
Ay.

EL.
True!
That faithful mourner knew
A brother’s aid. But I
Have no man now. The one
I had, is gone, is gone.
Rapt into nothingness.

CH.
9. Thou art wrung with sore distress.

EL.
I know it. Too well I know,
Taught by a life of woe,
Where horror dwells without relief.

CH.
10. Our eyes have seen thy grief.

EL.
Then comfort not again–

CH.
11. Whither now turns thy strain?

EL.
One utterly bereft,
Seeing no hope is left,
Of help from hands owning the same great sire.

CH.
12. ‘Tis nature’s debt.

EL.
To expire
On sharp-cut dragging thongs,
‘Midst wildly trampling throngs
Of swiftly racing hoofs, like him,
Poor hapless one?

CH.
13. Vast, dim,
And boundless was the harm.

EL.
Yea, severed from mine arm,
By strangers kept–

CH.
14. O pain!

EL.
Hidden he must remain,
Of me unsepulchred, unmourned, unwept.

[Enter CHRYSOTHEMIS.]

CHR.
Driven by delight, dear sister, I am come,
Reckless of dignity, with headlong speed.
For news I bear of joy and sweet relief
From ills that drew from thee thy ceaseless moan.

EL.
Whence couldst thou hear of succour for my woes,
That close in darkness without hope of dawn?

CHR.
Here is Orestes, learn it from my mouth,
As certainly as you now look on me.

EL.
What? Art thou mad, unhappy one, to laugh
Over thine own calamity and mine?

CHR.
No, by our father’s hearth, I say not this
In mockery. I tell you he is come.

EL.
Me miserable! Who hath given thine ear
The word that so hath wrought on thy belief?

CHR.
Myself am the eyewitness, no one else
Gained my belief, but proofs I clearly saw.

EL.
What sign hath so engrossed thine eye, poor girl?
What sight hath fired thee with this quenchless glow?

CHR.
But list to me, I pray thee, that henceforth
Thou mayest account me clear eyed, or a fool!

EL.
By all means, if it pleasure thee, say on.

CHR.
Well, I will tell thee all I saw:–I came
Unto the ancient tomb that holds our sire;
And from the topmost mound I marked a stream
Of milk fresh-flowing, and his resting place
Ringed round with garlands of all flowers that blow.
I marvelled at the sight, and peered about,
Lest some one might be nearer than we knew.
But finding all was quiet in the spot,
I ventured closer to the tomb, and there,
Hard by the limit, I beheld a curl
Of hair new shorn, with all the gloss of youth
And straight it struck my heart, as with a sense
Of something seen, ah me! long, long ago,
And told me that my sight encountered here
The token of Orestes, dearest soul
Then, clasping it, I did not cry aloud,
But straight mine eyes were filled with tears of joy.
And now as much as then I feel assured
He and none else bestowed this ornament.
To whom beyond thyself and me belongs
Such consecration? And I know this well,
I did it not,–nor thou. Impossible!
Thou canst not worship even the blessed Gods
Forth of this roof, unpunished. And, most sure,
Our mother is not minded so to act,
Nor, had she done it, could we fail to know.
This offering comes then of Orestes’ hand.
Take courage, dear one. Not one fate pursues
One house perpetually, but changeth still.
Ours was a sullen Genius, but perchance
This day begins the assurance of much good.