Old Man.
In vain! Yet could I not endure it so.
I turned, in coming, to his tomb aside,
There kneeling, for its desolation wept, 510
Poured a drink-offering from the skin I bear
Thy guests, and crowned the tomb with myrtle-sprays.
But—on the grave a black-fleeced ram I saw
New-slain, and blood but short time since outpoured,
And severed locks thereby of golden hair! 515
I marvelled, daughter, who of men had dared
Draw nigh the tomb: no Argive he, I wot.
Haply thy brother hath in secret come,
And honoured so his father's grave forlorn.
Look on the tress; yea, lay it to thine hair; 520
Mark if the shorn lock's colour be the same:
For they which share one father's blood shall oft
By many a bodily likeness kinship show.
Electra.
Not worthy a wise man, ancient, be thy words—
To think mine aweless brother would have come, 525
Fearing Aegisthus, hither secretly.
Then, how should tress be matched with tress of hair—
That, a young noble's trained in athlete-strife,
This, womanlike comb-sleeked? It cannot be.
Sooth, many shouldst thou find of hair like-hued, 530
Though of the same blood, ancient, never born.
Nay, but some stranger, pitying his tomb,
Shore it, or some one of this land, by stealth.
Old Man.
Set in his sandal's print thy tread, and mark
If that foot's measure answer, child, to thine. 535
