Are poured. Awake and hear, thou awful King;
Hear in thy darkened soul, O Master mine!
Oh, for some man of might
To aid this land, some high and visible lord
Of battle, shining bright
Against Death; the great lance
Bearing deliverance,
The back-bent Scythian bow, the hilted sword
Close-held to smite and smite!
Electra (excitedly returning from the Grave).
Behold,
The offerings of the dust are ministered:
But counsel me. I bear another word.
Leader.
Speak on. My spirit leaps for eagerness.
Electra.
Cast on the tomb I found this shaven tress.
Leader.
Who cast it there? What man or zonèd maid?
Electra.
Methinks that is a riddle quickly read!
Leader.
Thy thought is swift; and may thine elder know?
Electra.
What head save mine would blazon thus its woe?
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