Leave him to die by stoning of the folk,
Or never set thou foot on Spartan ground.
Dying, my daughter paid but justice' debt;
Yet it beseemed not him to deal her death.
I in all else have been a happy man540
Save in my daughters: herein most ill-starred.
Chorus.
Well fares he who is in his children blest,
And hath not won misfortune world-renowned.
Orestes.
Ancient, I fear to make defence to thee,
Wherein I cannot but offend thy soul.545
Let thine old age, which overawes my tongue,
Untrammelled leave the path of my defence,
And I will on, who fear thy grey hairs now.
I know me guilt-stained with a mother's death,
Yet pure herein, that I avenged my sire.550
What ought I to have done? Let plea face plea:—
My sire begat me, thy child gave me birth—
The field that from another gat the seed.[1]
Without the father, might no offspring be.
I reasoned then—better defend my source555
Of life, than her that did but foster me.
Thy daughter—I take shame to call her mother—
- ↑ The same argument is put by Aeschylus (Eumenides, 658–666) into the mouth of Apollo, who instances the birth of Athena from the head of Zeus in support of his contention:—
"The mother of the child named hers is not
The parent, but the new-sown issue's nurse.
The sire is parent: she but harboureth,
A stranger guest, such life as God blasts not."
