Chorus.
Now what disaster after this befell?
Phrygian.
O Mother Idæan, Mother sublime!
What desperate, desperate deeds, alas,
Of murderous outrage, of lawless crime,
Were they which I saw in the king's halls brought to pass!
From under the gloom of their mantles of purple they drew
Swords in their hands, and to this side and that side threw
A swift glance, heeding that none stood nigh:
Then as boars of the mountains before my lady up-towering high,1460
They shout, "Thou shalt die, thou shalt die!
Thee doth thy craven husband slay,
The traitor that would unto death betray
In Argos his brother's son this day!"
Then wild she shrieked, she shrieked, ah me!
Her white arm on her bosom beat,
Her head she smote in misery.
With golden-sandalled hurrying feet
She turned to flee, to flee!
But his clutch on her tresses Orestes laid,
For her sandals Mycenian his stride outwent.1470
On her leftward shoulder he bent
Backward her neck, with intent
To plunge in her throat the sword's dark blade.
Chorus.
What did those Phrygians in the house to help?
