Electra: And who is such of all around us, who?
Leader: Thyself, and whoso hates Aigisthos true.
Electra: For thee and me alone am I to pray?
Leader: Ask thine own understanding. It will say.
Electra: Who else? What heart that with our sorrow grieves?
Leader: Forget not that—far off—Orestes lives.
Electra: Oh, bravely spoke! Thou counsellest not in vain.
Leader: Next; on the sinners pray, their sin made plain …
Electra: Pray what? I know not. Oh, make clear my road!
Leader: Pray that there come to them or man or god …
Electra: A judge? Or an avenger? Speak thy prayer.
Leader: Plain be thy word: one who shall slay the slayer.
Electra: But dare I? Is it no sin thus to pray?
Leader: How else? With hate thine hater to repay. Electra mounts upon the Grave Mound and makes sacrifice.
Electra: Herald most high of living and of dead, Thou midnight Hermês, hear; and call the dread Spirits who dwell below the Earth, my vows To hearken and to watch my father’s house; And Earth our Mother, who doth all things breed And nurse, and takes again to her their seed. And I too with thee, as I pour these streams To wash dead hands, will call him in his dreams: O Father, pity me; pity thine own
Orestes, and restore us to thy throne; We are lost, we are sold like slaves: and in our stead Lo, she hath brought thy murderer to her bed, Aigisthos. I am like one chained alway; Orestes wandering without house or stay; But they are full of pride, and make turmoil And banquet of the treasures of thy toil. Guide thou Orestes homeward, let there be Some chance to aid him:—Father, hark to me!
And, oh, give me a heart to understand More than my mother, and a cleaner hand! These prayers for us; but for our enemies This also I speak: O Father, let there rise Against them thine Avenger, and again The slayer in just recompense be slain.—
Behold, I pray great evil, and I lay These tokens down; yea, midmost as I pray Against thine enemies I lay them—so. Do thou to us send blessing from below With Zeus, and Earth, and Right which conquereth all.
These be the prayers on which mine offerings fall. Do ye set lamentation like a wreath Round them, and cry the triumph-song of death. She proceeds with the pouring of offerings and presently finds on the tomb the Lock of Hair. The Chorus makes lamentation before the grave.
Chorus: Let fall the tear that plashes as it dies, Where the dead lies, Fall on this barrèd door, Where Good nor Evil entereth any more, This holy, abhorrèd thing, We turn from, praying.—Lo, the milk and wine Are poured. Awake and hear, thou awful King; Hear in thy darkened soul, O Master mine!
Oh, for some man of might To aid this land, some high and visible lord Of battle, shining bright Against Death; the great lance Bearing deliverance, The back-bent Scythian bow, the hilted sword Close-held to smite and smite!
Electra: Excitedly returning from the Grave.
Behold, The offerings of the dust are ministered: But counsel me. I bear another word.
Leader: Speak on. My spirit leaps for eagerness.
Electra: Cast on the tomb I found this shaven tress.