Chorus.
I know thine agony, hearing the crying 1210
Of the mother that bare thee, her wail of woe.
Orestes.
(Ant. 2)
Her hand on my cheek did she lay, and her calling
Rang in mine ears—"My child!—I implore thee!"
And she hung, she hung on my neck, to stay
The sword, from my palsied hand-grasp falling.
Chorus (to Electra).
Wretch, how couldst thou bear to behold before thee
Thy mother, gasping her life away? 1220
Orestes.
(Str. 3)
I cast my mantle before mine eyes,
And my sword began that sacrifice,
Through the throat of my mother cleaving, cleaving!
Electra.
Yea, and I urged thee with instant word,
And I set with thee mine hand to the sword.
I have done things horrible past believing!
Orestes.
(Ant. 3)
Take, take, with her vesture the limbs shroud round
Of my mother: O close her wide death-wound.
Thou barest them, thou, these hands death-dealing!
Electra.
Lo, thou that wast dear and yet not dear, 1230
