Antistrophe 2
And soon shall the Perfect Hour O’er the castle’s threshold stone Pass with his foot of power, When out to the dark is thrown The sin thereof and the stain By waters that purify. Now, now with a laughing eye God’s fortune lieth plain; And a cry on the wind is loud: “The stranger that held us bowed Is fallen again!”
All: O light of the dawn to be! The curb is broken in twain, And the mouth of the House set free. Up, O thou House, and see! Too long on the face of thee The dust hath lain! The doors are thrown open, and Orestes discovered standing over the dead bodies of Aigisthos and Clytemnestra. The Household is grouped about him and Attendants hold the great red robe in which Agamemnon was murdered.
Orestes: He speaks with ever-increasing excitement.
Behold your linkèd conquerors! Behold My Father’s foes, the spoilers of the fold! Oh, lordly were these twain, when thronèd high, And lovely now, as he who sees them lie Can read, two lovers faithful to their troth! They vowed to slay my father, or that both As one should die, and both the vows were true! And mark, all ye who hear this tale of rue, This robe, this trap that did my father greet,
Irons of the hand and shackling of the feet! Outstretch it north and south: cast wide for me This man-entangler, that our Sire may see— Not mine, but He who watcheth all deeds done, Yea, all my mother’s wickedness, the Sun— And bear me witness, when they seek some day To judge me, that in justice I did slay This woman: for of him I take no heed. He hath the adulterer’s doom, by law decreed.
But she who planned this treason ’gainst her own Husband, whose child had lived beneath her zone— Oh, child of love, now changed to hate and blood!— What is she? Asp or lamprey of the mud, That, fangless, rotteth with her touch, so dire That heart’s corruption and that lust like fire? Woman? Not woman, though I speak right fair. His eyes are caught by the great red robe. A dead man’s winding-sheet? A hunter’s snare? A trap, a toil, a tangling of the feet. …
I think a thief would get him this, a cheat That robs the stranger. He would snare them so, And kill them, kill them, and his heart would glow. … Not in my flesh, not in my house, O God, May this thing live! Ere that, Oh, lift thy rod And smiting blast me, dead without a child! He stops exhausted.
Chorus: O deeds of anger and of pain! O woman miserably slain! Alas! Alas! And he who lives shall grieve again.
Orestes: Did she the deed or no? This robe defiled Doth bear me witness, where its web is gored, How deep the dye was of Aigisthos’ sword; And blood hath joined with the old years, to spoil The many tinctures of the broidered coil. Oh, now I weep, now praise him where he died, And calling on this web that pierced his side. … Pain, pain is all my doing, all my fate, My race, and my begetting: and I hate This victory that sears me like a brand. …
Chorus: No mortal thro’ this life shall go For ever portionless of woe. Alas! Alas! It comes to all, or swift or slow.
Orestes: Yet wait: for I would have you understand. The end I know not. But methinks I steer Unseeing, like some broken charioteer, By curbless visions borne. And at my heart A thing of terror knocketh, that will start Sudden a-song, and she must dance to hear. But while I am still not mad, I here declare To all who love me, and confess, that I Have slain my mother, not unrighteously;
Who with my father’s blood hath stained the sod Of Argos and drawn down the wrath of God. And the chief spell that wrought me to the deed Is Loxias, Lord of Pytho, who decreed His high commandment: if this thing I dare, He lays on me no sin: if I forbear … I cannot speak his judgment: none can know The deeps thereof, no arrow from the bow Out-top it. Therefore here ye see me, how
I go prepared, with wreaths and olive bough, To kneel in supplication on the floor Of Loxias, touch the fire that evermore Men call the undying, and the midmost stone Of Earth, flying this blood which is mine own. And how these evil things were wrought, I pray All men of Argos on an after day Remember, and bear witness faithfully When Meneläus comes. … And take from me,
Living or dead, a wanderer and outcast For ever, this one word, my last, my last. …
Leader: Nay, all is well. Leave no ill omen here, Nor bind upon thy lips the yoke of fear. All Argos thou hast freed, and with one sweep Two serpents’ heads hurled reeking to the deep.
Orestes: Overcome with sudden terror.
Ah! Ah! Ye bondmaids! They are here: like Gorgons, gowned In darkness; all bewreathed and interwound With serpents! … I shall never rest again.
Leader: What fantasies, most father-loved of men, Haunt thee? Be strong, thou conqueror! Have no fear!
Orestes: These are no fantasies. They are here; they are here, The Hounds of my dead Mother, hot to kill.
Leader: The blood upon thine hand is reeking still: For that the turmoil in thy heart is loud.
Orestes: O Lord Apollo! More and more they crowd Close, and their eyes drip blood, most horrible!
Leader: One cleansing hast thou. Loxias can quell Thy tempest with his touch, and set thee free.
Orestes: You cannot see them. I alone can see. I am hunted. … I shall never rest again. Exit Orestes.
Chorus: —Farewell. May blessing guide thee among men. —May God with love watch over thee, and heed Thy goings and be near thee at thy need.