Chose Pylades, and bade the slaves retire: The victim's foot he held, and its white flesh, His hand extending, bared, and stript the hide E'er round the course the chariot twice could roll, And laid the entrails open. In his hands The fate-presaging parts Aegisthus took, Inspecting: in the entrails was no lobe; The valves and cells the gall containing show Dreadful events to him, that view'd them, near. Gloomy his visage darken'd; but my lord Ask'd whence his sadden'd aspect: He replied-- "Stranger, some treachery from abroad I fear; Of mortal men Orestes most I hate, The son of Agamemnon; to my house He is a foe." "Wilt thou," replied my lord, "King of this state, an exile's treachery dread? But that, these omens leaving, we may feast, Give me a Phthian for this Doric blade, The breast asunder I will cleave." He took The steel and cut. Aegisthus, yet intent, Parted the entrails; and, as low he bow'd His head, thy brother, rising to the stroke, Drove through his back the ponderous axe, and riv'd The spinal joints: his heaving body writh'd And quiver'd, struggling in the pangs of death. The slaves beheld, and instant snatched their spears, Many 'gainst two contesting; but my lord And Pylades with dauntless courage stood Oppos'd, and shook their spears. Orestes then Thus spoke: "I come not to this state a foe, Nor to my servants; but my father's death I on his murderer have aveng'd; you see Th' unfortunate Orestes: kill me not, My father's old attendants." At these words They all restrain'd their spears, and he was known By one grown hoary in the royal house. Crowns on thy brother's head they instant plac'd With shouts of joy. He comes, and with him brings Proof of his daring, not a Gorgon's head, But whom thou hat'st, Aegisthus: blood for blood, Bitter requital, on the dead has fall'n. {939} General exultation (_in Lyric measures_) succeeds, which increases as _Orestes_ and _Pylades re-enter bearing the corpse of Aegisthus_. After brief celebration of the deed the face of the corpse is uncovered, and Electra, gazing at it, gives vent to her scorn and hatred: how he had slain a hero, made her an orphan, lived in shame with her mother, enjoying and trusting in her father's wealth: but Nature is firm, not riches: she remains For ever, and triumphant lifts her head. But unjust wealth, which sojourns with the base, Glitters for some short space, then flies away.