dawns upon the sister's mind. The hair is like her own in colour; Orestes is the only friend who could be so lamenting Agamemnon; footsteps, too, are to be seen leading to the tomb, which in length and shape tally exactly with her own. While she is disturbed and uncertain, hoping but hardly daring to believe, Orestes comes forward and addresses her. She does not know him, and even when he tells her who he is, thinks he is mocking. But when at last she is convinced, her gladness overflows; he shows the very cloak which her hands had wrought; she falls upon his neck, and thus addresses him:—
"Oh! cherished darling of thy father's house,
Hope of our race, thou precious seed, long wept,
Trusting in thy strong arm, thou shalt regain
Thy natal home. O fondly loved, in whom
Centre four dear affections; for perforce
Thee must I hail as father, and on thee
Love for my mother, justly hated, falls;
And for my sister, pitilessly slain.
My faithful brother hast thou ever been,
My pride, my awe;—only may Justice, Strength,
With Zeus supreme, third Saviour, aid thy cause."
Orestes joins in her prayers, and explains how Apollo himself has sent him to execute this purpose, recounting the calamities which would fall on him if he should refuse the service: how Atè would pursue him; how every share in festal cup or sacred rite would be denied him, till, friendless and dishonoured, he must die with all the burden of his guilt upon him. Such oracles he cannot disobey. The avenger has
