Crashed. Shuddered all his frame from head to foot,
Convulsed in throes of agony dying hard.[1]
Straightway the thralls beholding sprang to arms,—
A host to fight with two,—but unafraid 845
Pylades and Orestes, brandishing
Their weapons, faced them: "Not a foe," he cried,
"To Argos, nor my servants, am I come!
I have avenged me on my father's slayer,—
Orestes I, the hapless! Slay me not, 850
My father's ancient thralls!" They, when they heard
His words, stayed spear: and recognised was he
Of an old servant, long time of the house.
Straightway a wreath upon thy brother's head
They set, with shouts rejoicing. And he comes 855
To show the head to thee—no Gorgon's this,
But whom thou hat'st, Aegisthus. Blood for blood,
Bitter repayment, to the slain hath come.
Chorus.
(Str.)
Forth to the dance, O beloved, with feet
That rapture is winging! 860
Bounding from earth, as a fawn's, let them fleet!
Lo, thy brother comes bringing
Victory-garlands more fair than they gain
By Alpheus' flow! As I dance, be thy strain
Of triumph outringing! 865
Electra.
O light, O splendour of the Sun-god's steeds,
O Earth, and Night that filled my gaze till now,
Free are mine eyes now: dawn's wings open free!
- ↑ Reading ἐσφάδᾳζε.
