MEROPE.
She led the way of death. str. 3.
And the plain of Tegea,
And the grave of Orestes—
Where, in secret seclusion
Of his unreveal'd tomb,
Sleeps Agamemnon's unhappy,
Matricidal, world-famed,
Seven-cubit-statured son—
Sent forth Echemus, the victor, the king,
By whose hand, at the Isthmus,
At the fate-denied straits,
Fell the eldest of the sons of Heracles,
Hyllus, the chief of his house.
Brother follow'd sister
The all-wept way.
THE CHORUS.
Yes; but his seed still, wiser-counsell'd,
Sail'd by the fate-meant Gulf to their conquest—
Slew their enemies' king, Tisamenus.
Wherefore accept that happier omen!
Yet shall restorer appear to the race.
MEROPE.
Three brothers won the field, ant. 3.
And to two did Destiny
Give the thrones that they conquer'd.
But the third, what delays him
From his unattain'd crown?...
Ah Pylades and Electra,
Ever faithful, untired,
