Works of Aeschylus - Aeschylus [32]
singing
Zeus, Zeus! what word to me is given?
What cry or prayer, invoking heaven,
Shall first by me be uttered?
What speech of craft-nor all revealing,
Nor all too warily concealing-
Ending my speech, shall aid the deed?
For lo! in readiness is laid
The dark emprise, the rending blade;
Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve
The dateless doom of Atreus' name,
Or-kindling torch and joyful flame
In sign of new-won liberty-
Once more Orestes shall retrieve
His father's wealth, and, throned on high,
Shall hold the city's fealty.
So mighty is the grasp whereby,
Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw,
Unseconded, a double foe.
Ho for the victory!
A loud cry is heard within.
Voice of Aegisthus:
Help, help, alas!
Chorus of Slave Women:
Ho there, ho I how is't within?
Is't done? is't over? Stand we here aloof
While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem
Of this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled.
An Attendant: enters from the palace.
Attendant:
O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death!
Woe, woe, and woe again, Aegisthus gone!
Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts
Of the queen's chamber. O for some young strength
To match the need! but aid availeth nought
To him laid low for ever. Help, help, help
Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vain
To slumber ineffectual. What ho!
The queen! how fareth Clytemnestra's self?
Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel,
And soon shall sing, hewn thro' as justice wills.
Clytemnestra enters.
Clytemnestra:
What ails thee, raising this ado for us?
Attendant:
I say the dead are come to slay the living.
Clytemnestra:
Alack, I read thy riddles all too clear-
We slew by craft and by like craft shall die.
Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old;
I'll know anon or death or victory-
So stands the curse, so I confront it here.
Orestes rushes from the palace; his sword dripping with blood. Pylades is with him.
Orestes:
Thee too I seek: for him what's done will serve.
Clytemnestra:
Woe, woe! Aegisthus, spouse and champion, slain!
Orestes:
What, lov'st the man? then in his grave lie down,
Be his in death, desert him nevermore!
Clytemnestra:
Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breast
Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep,
Thy toothless mouth drew mother's milk from me.
Orestes:
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades.
Pylades:
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave
At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn?
Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods.
Orestes:
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good.
To Clytemnestra
Follow; I will to slay thee at his side.
With him whom in his life thou loved'st more
Than Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meed
For hate where love, and love where hate was due!
Clytemnestra:
I nursed thee young; must I forego mine eld?
Orestes:
Thou slew'st my father; shalt thou dwell with me?
Clytemnestra:
Fate bore a share in these things, O my child
Orestes:
Fate also doth provide this doom for thee.
Clytemnestra:
Beware, O child, a parent's dying curse.
Orestes:
A parent who did cast me out to ill!
Clytemnestra:
Not cast thee out, but to a friendly home.
Orestes:
Born free, I was by twofold bargain sold.
Clytemnestra:
Where then the price that I received for thee?
Orestes:
The price of shame; I taunt thee not more plainly.
Clytemnestra:
Nay, but recount thy father's lewdness too.
Orestes:
Home-keeping, chide not him who toils without.
Clytemnestra:
'Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child.
Orestes:
The absent husband toils for them at home.
Clytemnestra:
Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child.
Orestes:
Nay, 'tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I.
Clytemnestra:
Beware thy mother's vengeful hounds from hell.
Orestes:
How shall I 'scape my father's, sparing thee?
Clytemnestra:
Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard.
Orestes:
My father's fate ordains this doom for thee.
Clytemnestra:
Ah me! this snake it was I bore and nursed.
Orestes:
Ay,