_Orest._ (_wildly, as one distraught._) Nay, know ye—for I know not how 'twill end;1010 Like chariot-driver with his steeds I'm dragged Out of my course; for passion's moods uncurbed Bear me their victim headlong. At my heart Stands terror ready or to sing or dance In burst of frenzy. While my reason stays, I tell my friends here that I slew my mother, Not without right, my father's murderess, Accursed, and hated of the Gods. And I As chiefest spell that made me dare this deed Count Loxias, Pythian prophet, warning me That doing this I should be free from blame, 1020 But slighting.... I pass o'er the penalty[463].... For none, aim as he will, such woes will hit. And now ye see me, in what guise equipped, [_Putting on the suppliant's wreaths of wool, and taking an olive branch in his hand_ With this my bough and chaplet I will gain Earth's central shrine, the home where Loxias dwells, And the bright fire that is as deathless known,[464] Seeking to 'scape this guilt of kindred blood; And on no other hearth, so Loxias bade, May I seek shelter. And I charge you all, Ye Argives, bear ye witness in due time 1030 How these dark deeds of wretched ill were wrought: But I, a wanderer, exiled from my land, Shall live, and leaving these my prayers in death,... _Chor._ Nay, thou hast prospered: burden not thy lips With evil speech, nor speak ill-boding words, When thou hast freed the Argive commonwealth, By good chance lopping those two serpents' heads. [_The Erinnyes are seen in the background, visible to_ ORESTES _only, in black robes, and with snakes in their hair_ _Orest._ Ah! ah! ye handmaids: see, like Gorgons these, Dark-robed, and all their tresses hang entwined With many serpents. I can bear no more. _Chor._ What phantoms vex thee, best beloved of sons 1040 By thy dear sire? Hold, fear not, victory's thine. _Orest._ These are no phantom terrors that I see: Full clear they are my mother's vengeful hounds. _Chor._ The blood fresh-shed is yet upon thy hands, And thence it is these troubles haunt thy soul. _Orest._ O King Apollo! See, they swarm, they swarm, And from their eyes is dropping loathsome blood. _Chor._ One way of cleansing is there; Loxias' form Clasp thou, and he will free thee from these ills. _Orest._ These forms ye see not, but I see them there: They drive me on, and I can bear no more. [_Exit_ _Chor._ Well, may'st thou prosper; may the gracious God 1050 Watch o'er and guard thee with a chance well timed!