The Electra of Euripides | Page 8

drink-offerings from the wine
I bear the strangers, and about the stone

Laid myrtle sprays. And, child, I saw thereon
Just at the censer
slain, a fleeced ewe,
Deep black, in sacrifice: the blood was new

About it: and a tress of bright brown hair
Shorn as in mourning, close.
Long stood I there
And wondered, of all men what man had gone
In
mourning to that grave.--My child, 'tis none
In Argos. Did there
come ... Nay, mark me now...
Thy brother in the dark, last night, to
bow
His head before that unadorèd tomb?
O come, and mark the
colour of it. Come
And lay thine own hair by that mourner's tress!



A hundred little things make likenesses
In brethren born, and show
the father's blood.
ELECTRA (_trying to mask her excitement and resist the contagion of
his_).
Old heart, old heart, is this a wise man's mood?...
O, not in darkness,
not in fear of men,
Shall Argos find him, when he comes again,

Mine own undaunted ... Nay, and if it were,
What likeness could
there be? My brother's hair
Is as a prince's and a rover's, strong

With sunlight and with strife: not like the long
Locks that a woman
combs.... And many a head
Hath this same semblance, wing for wing,
tho' bred
Of blood not ours.... 'Tis hopeless. Peace, old man.
OLD MAN.
The footprints! Set thy foot by his, and scan
The track of frame and
muscles, how they fit!
ELECTRA.
That ground will take no footprint! All of it
Is bitter stone.... It hath?...
And who hath said
There should be likeness in a brother's tread

And sister's? His is stronger every way.
OLD MAN.
But hast thou nothing...? If he came this day
And sought to show thee,
is there no one sign
Whereby to know him?... Stay; the robe was
thine,
Work of thy loom, wherein I wrapt him o'er
That night and
stole him through the murderers' door.
ELECTRA.
Thou knowest, when Orestes was cast out
I was a child.... If I did
weave some clout
Of raiment, would he keep the vesture now
He

wore in childhood? Should my weaving grow
As his limbs grew?...
'Tis lost long since. No more!
O, either 'twas some stranger passed,
and shore
His locks for very ruth before that tomb:
Or, if he found
perchance, to seek his home,
Some spy...
OLD MAN.
The strangers! Where are they? I fain
Would see them, aye, and bid
them answer plain...
ELECTRA.
Here at the door! How swift upon the thought!
_Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES.
OLD MAN.
High-born: albeit for that I trust them not.
The highest oft are false....
Howe'er it be,
[_Approaching them_.
I bid the strangers hail!
ORESTES.
All hail to thee,
Greybeard!--Prithee, what man of all the King

Trusted of old, is now this broken thing?
ELECTRA.
'Tis he that trained my father's boyhood.
ORESTES.
How?
And stole from death thy brother? Sayest thou?

ELECTRA.
This man was his deliverer, if it be
Deliverance.
ORESTES.
How his old eye pierceth me,
As one that testeth silver and alloy!

Sees he some likeness here?
ELECTRA.
Perchance 'tis joy,
To see Orestes' comrade, that he feels.
ORESTES.
None dearer.--But what ails the man? He reels
Dizzily back.
ELECTRA.
I marvel. I can say
No more.
OLD MAN (_in a broken voice_).
Electra, mistress, daughter, pray!
Pray unto God!
ELECTRA.
Of all the things I crave,
The thousand things, or all that others have,

What should I pray for?
OLD MAN.
Pray thine arms may hold
At last this treasure-dream of more than
gold
God shows us!
ELECTRA.
God, I pray thee!... Wouldst thou more?

OLD MAN.
Gaze now upon this man, and bow before
Thy dearest upon earth!
ELECTRA.
I gaze on thee!
O, hath time made thee mad?
OLD MAN.
Mad, that I see
Thy brother?
ELECTRA.
My ... I know not what thou say'st:
I looked not for it...
OLD MAN.
I tell thee, here confessed
Standeth Orestes, Agamemnon's son!
ELECTRA.
A sign before I trust thee! O, but one!
How dost thou know...?
OLD MAN.
There, by his brow, I see
The scar he made, that day he ran with thee

Chasing thy fawn, and fell.
ELECTRA (_in a dull voice_).
A scar? 'Tis so.
I see a scar.
OLD MAN.
And fearest still to throw
Thine arms round him thou lovest?
ELECTRA.

O, no more!
Thy sign hath conquered me.... (_throwing herself into_
ORESTES' _arms_). At last, at last!
Thy face like light! And do I
hold thee fast,
Unhoped for?
ORESTES.
Yea, at last! And I hold thee.
ELECTRA.
I never knew...
ORESTES.
I dreamed not.
ELECTRA.
Is it he,
Orestes?
ORESTES.
Thy defender, yea, alone
To fight the world! Lo, this day have I
thrown
A net, which once unbroken from the sea
Drawn home,
shall ... O, and it must surely be!
Else men shall know there is no God,
no light
In Heaven, if wrong to the end shall conquer right.
CHORUS.
Comest thou, comest thou now,
Chained by the years and slow,
O
Day long sought?
A light on the mountains cold
Is lit, yea, a fire
burneth,
'Tis the light of one that turneth
From roamings manifold,

Back out of exile old
To the house that knew