ORESTES. Accursed race! Now may the sun behold Your final doom. Is not Electra here? That she with us may perish, nor her life For heavier doom and deeper woe reserve. 'Tis well,--I follow, priestess! Fratricide Is an old custom of our ancient house; And you, ye Gods, I thank, that ye resolve Childless to root me hence. Thee let me counsel To view too fondly neither sun nor stars. Come follow to the gloomy realms below! As dragons, gender'd in the sulphur pool, Swallow each other with voracious rage, So our accurs'd race destroys itself. Childless and guiltless come below with me! There's pity in thy look! oh, gaze not so,-- 'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought An entrance to her son Orestes' heart, And yet his uprais'd arm her bosom pierc'd. His mother fell!--Appear, indignant shade! Within the circle step, ye fiends of hell, Be present at the welcome spectacle, The last, most horrible, that ye prepare! Nor hate, nor vengeance, whets the poignard now, A sister is constrain'd to deal the blow. Weep not! Thy guiltless soul is free from crime. From earliest infancy I nought have lov'd, As thee I could have lov'd, my sister. Come, The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend, And make an outlet for its boiling streams! (_He sinks exhausted._) IPHIGENIA. Alone I cannot bear this bliss and woe. Where art thou, Pylades? Thine aid I need. (_Iphigenia retires_.) SCENE II. ORESTES, _Recovering from his swoon and standing up_.