EPODE. Crown ye the deed; then will I freely pour The blithe libation, And, with pure offerings, cleanse the Atridan floor From desecration! Then with my prosperous hymn the lyre shall blend Its kindly chorus, And Argos shall be glad, and every friend Rejoice before us! Gird thee with manhood, boy; though hard to do, It is thy father's work; to him be true. And, when she cries--_Son, wilt thou kill thy_ MOTHER? Cry--FATHER, FATHER! and with that name smother {124} The rising ruth. As Perseus, when he slew The stony Dread,[f9] was stony-hearted, do Thy mission stoutly; For him below, and her above,[f10] pursue This work devoutly. The gods by thee, in righteous judgment, show Their grace untender! Thou to the man, that dealt the deathful blow, Like death shalt render. [_Enter_ ÆGISTHUS. ÆGISTHUS. Not uninvited come I, having heard A rumour strange, by certain strangers brought, No pleasant tale--Orestes' death. In sooth, A heavy fear-distilling sorrow this, More than a house may bear, whose wounds yet bleed, And ulcerate from the fangs of fate. But say, Is this a fact that looks us in the face, Or startling words of woman's fears begotten, That shoot like meteors through the air, and die? What proof, ye maids, what proof? CHORUS. Our ears have heard. But go within; thyself shalt see the man; Try well the teller, e'er thou trust the tale. ÆGISTHUS. I'll scan him well, and prove him close, if he Himself was at the death, or but repeat From blind report the news another told. It will go hard, if idle breath cheat me. My eyes are in my head, and I can see. [_Exit into the house._ CHORUS. Jove! great Jove! What shall I say? How with pious fervour pray, That from thee the answer fair Be wafted to my friendly prayer? Now the keen-edged axe shall strike, With a life-destroying blow; Now, or, plunged in deep perdition, Agamemnon's house sinks low, Or the hearth with hope this day Shall blaze, through all the ransomed halls, And the son his father's wealth Shall win, and with his sceptre sway. {125} In the bloody combat fresh, He shall risk it, one with two; Hand to hand the fight shall be. Godlike son of Agamemnon, Jove give strength to thee! ÆGISTHUS. (_from within_) Ah me! I fall. Ah! Ah! CHORUS. Hear'st thou that cry? How is't? Whose was that groan? Let's go aside, the deed being done, that we Seem not partakers of the bloody work.[n59] 'Tis ended now. [_Enter_ SERVANT.