Sent to one dead, and feeling not! My mind
Stumbles to understand what lies behind
These gifts, so puny for the deed she hath done.
Yea, though man offer all he hath to atone
For one life's blood, 'tis written, he hath lost
That labour.—But enough. Say all thou know'st.
Leader.
Son, I was near her, and could mark aright.
A dream, a terror wandering in the night,
Shook her dark spirit till she spoke that word.
Orestes.
What was the dream she dreamed? Speak, if ye heard.
Leader.
She bore to life, she said, a Serpent Thing.
Orestes.
And after? To its head thy story bring.
Leader.
In swathing clothes she lapt it like a child.
Orestes.
It craved for meat, that dragon of the wild?
Leader.
Yes; in the dream she gave it her own breast.
Orestes.
And took no scathing from the evil beast?
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