Book of illustrations : Ancient Tragedy

Orestes then, "With lavers from the pure
And living stream we lately have been cleansed:
But with thy citizens these rites to share,
If strangers are permitted, we, O King,
Are ready to thy hospitable feast,
Nothing averse." The converse here had end.
Their spears, with which they guard the king, aside
Th' attendants laid, and to their office all
Applied their hands; some led the victim, some
The baskets bore, some rais'd the flames and plac'd
The cauldrons on the hearth; the house resounds.
Thy mother's husband on the altars cast
The salted cakes, and thus address'd his vows;
"Ye Nymphs that haunt the rocks, these hallow'd rites
Oft let me pay, and of my royal spouse
Now absent, both by fortune blest as now;
And let our foes as now, in ruin lie;"
Thee and Orestes naming. But my lord,
Far other vows address'd, but gave his words
No utt'rance, to regain his father's house.
Aegisthus then the sacrificing sword
Took from the basket, from the bullock's front
To cut the hair, which on the hallow'd fire
With his right hand he threw; and, as his slaves
The victim held, beneath its shoulder plung'd
The blade; then turning to thy brother spoke:
"Among her noble arts Thessalia boasts
To rein the fiery courser, and with skill
The victim's limbs to sever; stranger, take
The sharp-edg'd steel and show that fame reports
Of the Thessalians truth." The Doric blade
Of temper'd metal in his hand he grasp'd,
And from his shoulders threw his graceful robe;
Then to assist him in the toilsome task
Chose Pylades, and bade the slaves retire:
The victim's foot he held, and its white flesh,
His hand extending, bared, and stript the hide
E'er round the course the chariot twice could roll,
And laid the entrails open. In his hands
The fate-presaging parts Aegisthus took,
Inspecting: in the entrails was no lobe;
The valves and cells the gall containing show
Dreadful events to him, that view'd them, near.
Gloomy his visage darken'd; but my lord
Ask'd whence his sadden'd aspect: He replied —
"Stranger, some treachery from abroad I fear;
Of mortal men Orestes most I hate,
The son of Agamemnon; to my house
He is a foe." "Wilt thou," replied my lord,
"King of this state, an exile's treachery dread?
But that, these omens leaving, we may feast,
Give me a Phthian for this Doric blade,
The breast asunder I will cleave." He took
The steel and cut. Aegisthus, yet intent,
Parted the entrails; and, as low he bow'd
His head, thy brother, rising to the stroke,
Drove through his back the ponderous axe, and riv'd
The spinal joints: his heaving body writh'd
And quiver'd, struggling in the pangs of death.
The slaves beheld, and instant snatched their spears,
Many 'gainst two contesting; but my lord
And Pylades with dauntless courage stood
Oppos'd, and shook their spears. Orestes then
Thus spoke: "I come not to this state a foe,
Nor to my servants; but my father's death
I on his murderer have aveng'd; you see
Th' unfortunate Orestes: kill me not,
My father's old attendants." At these words
They all restrain'd their spears, and he was known
By one grown hoary in the royal house.
Crowns on thy brother's head they instant plac'd
With shouts of joy. He comes, and with him brings
Proof of his daring, not a Gorgon's head,
But whom thou hat'st, Aegisthus: blood for blood,
Bitter requital, on the dead has fall'n. {939}

General exultation (in Lyric measures) succeeds, which increases as Orestes and Pylades re-enter bearing the corpse of Aegisthus. After brief celebration of the deed the face of the corpse is uncovered, and Electra, gazing at it, gives vent to her scorn and hatred: how he had slain a hero, made her an orphan, lived in shame with her mother, enjoying and trusting in her father's wealth: but

Nature is firm, not riches: she remains
For ever, and triumphant lifts her head.
But unjust wealth, which sojourns with the base,
Glitters for some short space, then flies away.

His effeminate manners are more than maiden tongue may speak of; beauty graced his perfect form:

But be not mine a husband, whose fair face
In softness with a virgin's vies, but one
Of manly manners; for the sons of such
By martial toils are trained to glorious deeds;
The beauteous only the dance give grace.

Let the wicked in future learn they are not secure till the goal of life is reached. {1092}

Clytaemnestra is then seen approaching: they hurry Orestes in; his heart fails him at the thought of his mother; with difficulty Electra rouses him to his appointed vengeance. [Exeunt all but Electra into the Cottage. Enter Clytaemnestra in a Chariot and splendid array.] The Chorus welcome her, and she begs their aid to alight. —Electra thrusts herself forward clad in rags as she is, and begs that she too may assist. —Clyt. feels the impropriety of the scene, and falls into an apologetic tone; it was Electra's father who, by his injustice to Iphigenia, was the real cause of Electra's trouble. This leads to the usual judicial disputation: Clyt. pleading that this sacrifice of her daughter was done not for a good cause, but for the wanton Helen; this sacrifice she had avenged, and to avenge it must join an enemy, not a friend, of Agamemnon. —Electra, getting permission, replies: Helen was not the only wanton one of her family; if no motive but vengeance, why begin to adorn as soon as Agamemnon was out of the way, why rejoice whenever the Trojans prospered, why go on to persecute Orestes and herself, nay, why not slay Aegisthus for persecuting these her children? The sight of Electra's miserable condition makes even Clyt. feel compunction: she has been too harsh, she will be kinder now, and so shall Aegisthus – Electra replying to all that it is too late. At last Clyt. prepares to go within the house and perform the rite for Electra; then she will join her husband. Exeunt Attendants with Chariot, and Electra ushers Clytaemnestra into the Cottage.

Let my poor house receive thee: but take heed
Lest thy rich vests the blackening smoke denies. —
There shalt thou sacrifice, as to the gods
Behoves thee sacrifice: the basket there
Is for the rites prepared, and the keen blade