What see I now? What company of women Is this that comes in mourning garb attired? What chance shall I conjecture as its cause? 10 Does a new sorrow fall upon this house? Or am I right in guessing that they bring Libations to my father, soothing gifts To those beneath? It cannot but be so. I think Electra, mine own sister, comes, By wailing grief conspicuous. Thou, O Zeus, Grant me full vengeance for my father's death, And of thine own good will my helper be! Come, Pylades, and let us stand aside, That I may clearly learn what means this train Of women offering prayers. 20 STROPHE I _Chor._ Sent from the house I come, With quick, sharp beatings of the hands in grief, To pour libations here; *And see, my cheeks with bloody marks are tracked,[403] The new-cut furrows which my nails have made, And evermore my heart is fed with groans; And folds of mantles tied Across the breast are rent To shreds and rags in grief, *Marring the grace of linen vestments fair, *Since we by woes that shut out smiles are smitten. 30 ANTISTROPHE I *Full clear a spectre came That made each single hair to stand on end, Dream-prophet of this house, That e'en in sleep breathes out avenging wrath; And from the secret chamber cried in fear A cry that broke the silence of the night, There, where the women dwell, Falling with heaviest weight; And those who judge such dreams Told, calling God to witness, that the souls Below were wroth and vexed with those that slew them. 40 STROPHE II On such a graceless deed of grace, as charm To ward off ill, (O Earth! O mother kind!) A godless woman now Sends me with eager heart; And yet I dread to utter that same prayer; What ransom has been found For blood on earth once poured? Oh! hearth all miserable! Oh! utter overthrow of house and home! Yea, mists of darkness, sunless, loathed of men, 50 Cover both home and house With its lords' bloody deaths. ANTISTROPHE II Yea, all the majesty that awed of old, Unchecked, unconquered, irresistible, Thrilling the people's heart As well as ears, is gone; There are, may be, that fear;[404] but now Success Is man's sole God and more; Yet stroke of Vengeance swift Smites some in life's clear day, For some who tarry long their sorrows wait In twilight dim, on darkness' borderland, *And some an endless night Of nothingness holds fast. STROPHE III