An ancient in the house, drew nigh to scan His face, and knew him. Then with one accord They crowned thy brother's temples, and outpoured joy and loud songs. And hither now he fares To show the head, no Gorgon, that he bears, But that Aegisthus whom thou hatest! Yea, Blood against blood, his debt is paid this day. [_He goes off to meet the others_--ELECTRA _stands as though stupefied_. CHORUS. Now, now thou shalt dance in our dances, Beloved, as a fawn in the night! The wind is astir for the glances Of thy feet; thou art robed with delight. He hath conquered, he cometh to free us With garlands new-won, More high than the crowns of Alpheüs, Thine own father's son: Cry, cry, for the day that is won! ELECTRA. O Light of the Sun, O chariot wheels of flame, O Earth and Night, dead Night without a name That held me! Now mine eyes are raised to see, And all the doorways of my soul flung free. Aegisthus dead! My father's murderer dead! What have I still of wreathing for the head Stored in my chambers? Let it come forth now To bind my brother's and my conqueror's brow. [_Some garlands are brought out from the house to_ ELECTRA. CHORUS. Go, gather thy garlands, and lay them As a crown on his brow, many-tressed, But our feet shall refrain not nor stay them: 'Tis the joy that the Muses have blest. For our king is returned as from prison, The old king, to be master again, Our belovèd in justice re-risen: With guile he hath slain... But cry, cry in joyance again! [_There enter from the left_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _followed by some thralls_. ELECTRA. O conqueror, come! The king that trampled Troy Knoweth his son Orestes. Come in joy, Brother, and take to bind thy rippling hair My crowns!.... O what are crowns, that runners wear For some vain race? But thou in battle true Hast felled our foe Aegisthus, him that slew By craft thy sire and mine. [_She crowns_ ORESTES. And thou no less, O friend at need, O reared in righteousness, Take, Pylades, this chaplet from my hand. 'Twas half thy battle. And may ye two stand Thus alway, victory-crowned, before my face! [_She crowns_ PYLADES. ORESTES. Electra, first as workers of this grace Praise thou the Gods, and after, if thou will, Praise also me, as chosen to fulfil God's work and Fate's.--Aye, 'tis no more a dream; In very deed I come from slaying him. Thou hast the knowledge clear, but lo, I bring More also. See himself, dead! [_Attendants bring in the body of_ AEGISTHUS _on a bier_. Wouldst thou fling This lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear? Or up, where all the vultures of the air May glut them, pierce and nail him for a sign Far off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine. ELECTRA. It shames me; yet, God knows, I hunger sore-- ORESTES. What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermore Need touch thee. ELECTRA.