_Chor._ Far though Orestes be, forget him not. _Elect._ Right well is this: thou teachest admirably. _Chor._ Then, for the blood-stained ones remembering say.... _Elect._ What then? Explain, and teach my ignorance.[409] 110 _Chor._ That there may come to them some God or man.... _Elect._ Shall I “as judge” or as “avenger” say? _Chor._ Say it out plain! “to give them death for death.”... _Elect._ May prayers like these consist with piety? _Chor._ Why not,—a foe with evils to requite? _Elect._ [_moving to the tomb, and pouring libations as she speaks._] *O mightiest herald of the Gods on high And those below, O Hermes of the dark, Call thou the Powers beneath, and bid them hear The prayers that look towards my father's house; And Earth herself, who all things bringeth forth, 120 And rears them and again receives their fruit. And I to human souls libations pouring, Say, calling on my father, “Pity me; How shall we bring our dear Orestes home?” For now as sold to ill by her who bore us, We poor ones wander. She as husband gained Ægisthos, who was partner in thy death; And I am as a slave, and from his wealth Orestes now is banished, and they wax Full haughty in the wealth thy toil had gained. 130 And that Orestes hither with good luck May come, I pray. Hear thou that prayer, my father! And to myself grant thou that I may be Than that my mother wiser far of heart, Holier in act. For us this prayer I pour; And for our foes, my father, this I pray, That Justice may as thine avenger come, And that thy murderers perish. Thus I place Midway in prayer for good that now I speak, My prayer 'gainst them for evil. Be thou then The escort[410] of these good things that I ask, 140 With help of Gods, and Earth, and conquering Justice. With prayers like these my votive gifts I pour; And as for you [_turning to the Chorus_] 'tis meet with cries to crown The pæan ye utter, wailing for the dead. STROPHE _Chor._ *Pour ye the pattering tear, *Falling for fallen lord, *Here by the tomb that shuts out good and ill,— Here, where the full libations have been poured That turn aside the curse men deprecate, Hear me, O Thou my Dread, 150 Hear thou, O Sire, the words my dark mind speaks! ANTISTROPHE Oh, woe is me, woe, woe! Woe, woe, and woe is me! *What warrior strong of spear Shall come the house to free, Or Ares with his Skythian bow[411] in hand, Shaking its pliant strength in deeds of war, *Or guiding in encounter closer yet The weapons made with hilts?