CHR. If this seem wisdom to thee, then be wise Thy way: but in the hour of misery, When it hath caught thee, thou wilt praise my words. [_Exit_ CHRYSOTHEMIS CHORUS. Wise are the birds of air I 1 That with true filial care For those provide convenient food Who gave them birth, who wrought their good. Why will not men the like perfection prove? Else, by the fires above, And heavenly Rectitude, Fierce recompense they shall not long elude. O darkling rumour, world-o'er-wandering voice That piercest to the shades beneath the ground, To dead Atrides waft a sound Of sad reproach, not bidding him rejoice. Stained is the ancestral hall, I 2 Broken the battle-call, That heretofore his children twain In loving concord did sustain. Alone, deserted, vexed, Electra sails, Storm-tossed with rugged gales, Lamenting evermore Like piteous Philomel, and pining sore For her lost father;--might she but bring down That two-fold Fury, caring not for death, But ready to resign her breath, What maid so worthy of a sire's renown? None who inherit from a noble race, II 1 Complying with things base Will let their ancient glory be defiled. So 'twas thy choice, dear child, Through homeless misery[9] to win a two-fold prize, Purging the sin and shame[10] That cloud the Argive name, So to be called most noble and most wise. May'st thou surpass thy foes in wealth and power II 2 As o'er thee now they tower! Since I have found thee, not in bright estate, Nor blessed by wayward fate, But through thy loyalty to Heaven's eternal cause Wearing the stainless crown Of perfectest renown, And richly dowered by the mightiest laws. _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _with the urn_. OR. Say, dames and damsels, have we heard aright, And speed we to the goal of our desire? CH. And what desire or quest hath brought thee hither? OR. I seek Aegisthus' dwelling all this while. CH. Welcome. The tongue that told thee hath no blame. OR. Which of you all will signify within Our joint arrival,--not unwelcome here. CH. This maiden, if the nearest should report. OR. Mistress, wilt thou go yonder and make known, That certain Phocians on Aegisthus wait? EL. Oh! can it be that you are come to bring Clear proofs of the sad rumour we have heard? OR. I know not what ye have heard. Old Strophius Charged me with tidings of Orestes' fate. EL. What, stranger? How this terror steals on me! OR. Bearing scant remnants of his body dead In this small vase thou seest, we bring them home. EL. O sorrow! thou art here: I see full well That burden of my heart in present view.