The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 37

EL. Then comfort not again--

CH. 11. Whither now turns thy strain?

EL. One utterly bereft, Seeing no hope is left, Of help from hands owning the same great sire.

CH. 12. 'Tis nature's debt. II 2

EL. To expire On sharp-cut dragging thongs, 'Midst wildly trampling throngs Of swiftly racing hoofs, like him, Poor hapless one?

CH. 13. Vast, dim, And boundless was the harm.

EL. Yea, severed from mine arm, By strangers kept--

CH. 14. O pain!

EL. Hidden he must remain, Of me unsepulchred, unmourned, unwept.

_Enter_ CHRYSOTHEMIS.

CHR. Driven by delight, dear sister, I am come, Reckless of dignity, with headlong speed.

For news I bear of joy and sweet relief From ills that drew from thee thy ceaseless moan.

EL. Whence couldst thou hear of succour for my woes, That close in darkness without hope of dawn?

CHR. Here is Orestes, learn it from my mouth, As certainly as you now look on me.

EL. What? Art thou mad, unhappy one, to laugh Over thine own calamity and mine?

CHR. No, by our father's hearth, I say not this In mockery. I tell you he is come.

EL. Me miserable! Who hath given thine ear The word that so hath wrought on thy belief?

CHR. Myself am the eyewitness, no one else Gained my belief, but proofs I clearly saw.

EL. What sign hath so engrossed thine eye, poor girl?

What sight hath fired thee with this quenchless glow?

CHR. But list to me, I pray thee, that henceforth Thou mayest account me clear eyed, or a fool!

EL. By all means, if it pleasure thee, say on.

CHR. Well, I will tell thee all I saw:--I came Unto the ancient tomb that holds our sire; And from the topmost mound I marked a stream Of milk fresh-flowing, and his resting place Ringed round with garlands of all flowers that blow.

I marvelled at the sight, and peered about, Lest some one might be nearer than we knew.

But finding all was quiet in the spot, I ventured closer to the tomb, and there, Hard by the limit, I beheld a curl Of hair new shorn, with all the gloss of youth And straight it struck my heart, as with a sense Of something seen, ah me! long, long ago, And told me that my sight encountered here The token of Orestes, dearest soul Then, clasping it, I did not cry aloud, But straight mine eyes were filled with tears of joy.

And now as much as then I feel a.s.sured He and none else bestowed this ornament.

To whom beyond thyself and me belongs Such consecration? And I know this well, I did it not,--nor thou. Impossible!

Thou canst not wors.h.i.+p even the blessed G.o.ds Forth of this roof, unpunished. And, most sure, Our mother is not minded so to act, Nor, had she done it, could we fail to know.

This offering comes then of Orestes' hand.

Take courage, dear one. Not one fate pursues One house perpetually, but changeth still.

Ours was a sullen Genius, but perchance This day begins the a.s.surance of much good.

EL. Oh how I pity thine infatuate mind!

CHR. Why? Dost thou find no comfort in my news?

EL. You know not where you roam. Far wide! far wide!

CHR. Not know? when I have seen it with mine eyes?

EL. Dear, he is dead. Look not to him, poor girl!

Salvation comes to thee no more from him.

CHR. Oh me, unfortunate! Who told thee this?

EL. He who stood by and saw his life destroyed.

CHR. Amazement seizes me. Where is that man?

EL. Right welcome to the mother there within.

CHR. Me miserable! Who then can have decked With all those ceremonies our father's tomb?

EL. I cannot but suppose some hand hath brought These gifts in memory of Orestes dead.

CHR. O cruel fate! While I in ecstasy Sped with such news, all ignorant, it seems, Of our dire fortune; and, arriving, find Fresh sorrows added to the former woe.

EL. It is so, sister; yet if thou wilt list To me, thou mayest disperse this heaviness.

CHR. What? Shall I raise the dead again to life?

EL. I did not mean so. I am not so fond.

CHR. What bid you then that I have power to do?

EL. To endure courageously what I enjoin.

CHR. So it make profit, I will not refuse.

EL. Remember, without toil no plan may thrive!

CHR. I know it, and will aid thee to my power.

EL. Then hearken my resolve. Thou seest now, We have no friendly succour in the world; But death has taken all, and we are left Two only. I, so long as I could hear My brother lived and flourished, still had hope He would arise to wreak his father's blood.

But now that he is gone, to thee I turn, To help thy sister boldly to destroy The guilty author of our father's death, Aegisthus.--Wherefore hide it from thee now?

--Yea, sister! Till what term wilt thou remain Inactive? To what end? What hope is yet Left standing? Surely thou hast cause to grieve, Bobbed of thy father's opulent heritage, And feeling bitterly the creeping years That find thee still a virgin and unwed.

Nay, nor imagine thou shalt ever know That blessing. Not so careless of his life Is King Aegisthus, as to risk the birth Of sons from us, to his most certain fall.

But if thou wilt but follow my resolve, First thou shalt win renown of piety From our dead father, and our brother too, Who rest beneath the ground, and shalt be free For evermore in station as in birth, And n.o.bly matched in marriage, for the good Draw gazers to them still. Then seest thou not What meed of honour, if thou dost my will, Thou shalt apportion to thyself and me?

For who, beholding us, what citizen, What foreigner, will not extend the hand Of admiration, and exclaim, 'See, friends, These scions of one stock, these n.o.ble twain, These that have saved their father's house from woe, Who once when foes were mighty, set their life Upon a cast, and stood forth to avenge The stain of blood! Who will not love the pair And do them reverence? Who will not give Honour at festivals, and in the throng Of popular resort, to these in chief, For their high courage and their bold emprise?'