Aeschylus
The Libation Bearers
[The Choephoroi]
458 BC

[This translation, which has been prepared by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College, Nanaimo, BC, Canada, is in the public domain and may be used by anyone, in whole or in part, for any purpose, without permission and without charge, provided the source is acknowledged. Last revised May 2003]

Oresteia Page (links to the Agamemnon and the Eumenides)

[For a short introductory lecture on the Agamemnon and the Oresteia click hereFor a summary of the legend of the House of Atreus, the immediate mythological background to the play, click here ]

For information about purchasing printed copies of this text please consult Prideaux Street Publishing

[Note that in the following text the numbers in square brackets refer to the Greek text]


Dramatis Personae

ORESTES: son of Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra, brother of Electra
CHORUS: slave women (captured at Troy) serving the royal palace at Argos
ELECTRA: daughter of Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra, sister of Orestes
SERVANT: house slave serving the royal palace
CLYTAEMNESTRA: widow of Agamemnon, lover of Aegisthus, mother of Orestes and Electra
PYLADES: friend of Orestes
CILISSA: Orestes' old nurse, a servant in the palace.
AEGISTHUS: son of Thyestes (brother of Atreus, father of Agamemnon), lover of Clytaemnestra
ATTENDANTS on Orestes and Pylades and Aegisthus

Scene: Argos, the tomb of Agamemnon some years after his murder by Clytaemnestra and Aegisthus.  Behind the tomb stands the royal palace of the sons of Atreus.

Enter Orestes and Pylades.  They have just arrived in Argos.

ORESTES
      Hermes, messenger to the dead, guardian
      of your father's powers, help rescue me—
      work with me, I beg you, now I've come back,    
      returned to this land from exile.  On this grave,
      on this heaped-up earth, I call my father,
      imploring him to listen, to hear me . . .

[Orestes cuts two locks of his hair and sets them one by one on the tomb]

      Here's a lock of hair, offering to Inachus,
      the stream where I was raised.  Here's another,
      a token of my grief.  I was not there,
      my father, to mourn your death.  I couldn't stretch          
10
      my hand out to you, when they carried off
      your corpse for burial.

[Enter Electra and the Chorus, dressed in black.  They do not see Orestes and Pylades]

                                                                What's this I see?               [10]
      What's this crowd of women coming here,
      all wearing black in public? What does it mean?
      What new turn of fate?  Has some fresh sorrow
      struck the house?  Or am I right to think
      they bring libations here to honour you,
      my father, to appease the dead below? 
      That must be it.  I see my sister there,
      Electra.  That's her approaching with them.                    
20
      She's grieving—in great pain—that's obvious.
      O Zeus, let me avenge my father's death.
      Support me as my ally in this fight.
      Pylades, let's stand over there and hide,                                     
[20]
      so I can find out what's happening,
      what brings these suppliant women here.

[Orestes and Pylades conceal themselves from the sight of Electra and the Chorus]

CHORUS
      I've been sent here from the palace,
      to bring libations for the dead,
      to clap out the hands' sharp beat.
      Blood flows down my cheeks                                            30
      from cuts my nails have scratched.
      As life drags on and on, my heart
      feeds itself on my laments,
      to the sound of garments torn apart,
      the sound of sorrow in our clothes,
      as we rip the woven linen
      covering our breasts.
      No laughter any more.                                                                 [30]
      Our fortune beats us down.

      With hair-raising shrieks, Fear,                                          40
      dream-prophet in this house,
      breathed a furious cry of terror,
      at night, while people were asleep.
      Deep within the inner house
      the heavy scream re-echoed, all the way
      to rooms where women slept.
      Those who read our dreams,
      who speak by heaven's will, 
      declared, "The dead beneath the ground                                    
[40]
      are discontent—their anger grows
 
                                    50
      against the ones who killed them."

      O Earth, my mother Earth,
      to protect herself from harm
      that godless woman sends me here
      with gifts, with loveless gifts.
      But I'm too scared to speak her words,
      the prayer she wishes me to say.
      What can atone for blood
      once fallen on the ground?
      Alas for the grief-filled hearth,
                                          60
      Alas for the buried home!                                                           
[50]
      Sunless darkness grips the house
      which all men hate, for now
      their master's murdered.

      It's gone—that ancient splendour 
      no man could resist or fight,
      no man could overcome.
      Its glory rang in every ear,
      echoed in every heart.
      Now it's been thrown away.
                                              70
      But each man feels the fear.
      For now, in all men's eyes,
      success is worshipped,                                                               
[60]
      more so than god himself.
      But Justice is vigilant—
      she tips the scales.
      With some she's quick,
      striking by light of day,
      for others sorrows wait,
      delaying until their lives
                                                    80
      are half way sunk in twilight,
      while others are embraced
      by night that never ends.

      The nurturing earth drinks blood,
      she drinks her fill. That gore,
      which cries out for revenge,
      will not dissolve or seep away.
      The guilty live in utter desperation—
      madness preys upon their minds
      infecting them completely.                                                
90        [70]

      The man who violates a virgin's bed
      cannot be redeemed.  All rivers flow
      into one stream to cleanse his hand
      of black blood which defiles him.
      Such waters flow in vain.

      As for me—gods set a fatal noose
      around my city, so I was led
      out of my father's house a slave.
      Now I do what I have to do—
      beat down my bitter rage.
                                                100
      Against my inclinations,                                                             
[80]
      I follow what my masters say,
      whether right or wrong.
      Still, behind our veils
      we weep for her, this girl,
      her senseless suffering,
      as grief, concealed and cold,
      congeals our hearts to ice.

ELECTRA
      You women who keep our house in order,
      now you're here attending me in prayers,
                         110
      in supplication, give me your advice.
      What should I say as I pour out these cups,
      my offering to grief?  How frame my words
      to make my prayer a tribute to my father?
      Shall I say I bring these gifts with love,
      from doting wife to her beloved husband,                                  
[90]
      from my mother?  I have no strength for that.
      I don't know what to say, as I pour out
      this oil and honey on my father's tomb.
      Shall I recite the words men often use,
                             120
      "May those who send this noble tribute
      get back the same." No, let him give them
      a gift their treachery deserves!  Or should I
      stand here in silence and dishonour, the way
      my father died, empty out these cups,
      with eyes averted as I toss the gift,
      let the earth drink, and then retrace my steps,
      like someone sent to carry out the trash
      left over from some purifying rite?
      Help me, my friends, with your advice.                            
130        [100]
      We share a common hatred in the house.
      Don't hide what's in your hearts.  Don't be afraid
      of anyone.  Fate waits for each of us—
      the free and those in bondage to another.
      Speak up, if you can think of something better.

CHORUS LEADER
      I respect your father's tomb, as if it were
      an altar.  So I'll speak straight from my heart, 
      as you have asked.

ELECTRA
                                                 Then talk to me,
      out of your reverence for my father's grave.

CHORUS LEADER
      As you pour, bless those who are your friends.
                 140

ELECTRA
      Of those close to me, whom shall I call friends?                        
[110]

CHORUS LEADER
      First, name yourself—then anyone 
      who hates Aegisthus.

ELECTRA
                                        Then I'll make this prayer 
      on my own behalf.  Shall I include you too?

CHORUS LEADER
      That's your decision.  In this ritual
      you must let your judgment guide you.

ELECTRA
      Who else should I then add to join with us?

CHORUS LEADER
      He may be far from home, but don't forget Orestes.

ELECTRA
      That's good.  You give me excellent advice.

CHORUS LEADER
      Remember, too, the guilty murderers.
                              150

ELECTRA
      What do I say?  I've never practised this.
      Teach me what I should say.

CHORUS LEADER
                                                  Let some god
      or mortal man come down on them.

ELECTRA
      You mean as judge or as avenger?  Which?                               
[120]

CHORUS LEADER
      Pronounce these words—and clearly—
      "Someone who'll pay back life by taking life."

ELECTRA
      Is it a righteous thing for me to do,
      to petition gods like that?

CHORUS
                                                              Why not?
      How can it not be a righteous thing to pray
      to pay back one's enemies for evil?
                                  160

ELECTRA
      Oh Hermes, mighty herald, moving
      between earth above and earth below,
      messenger to the dead, assist me now—
      summon the spirits there beneath the ground
      who guard my father's house, to hear my prayers.
      And call on Earth herself, who, giving birth
      and nurturing all things, in due course takes back
      the swollen tide of their increasing store.
      As I pour out these offering to the dead,
      I call upon my father, "Pity me—                                     
170       [130]
      and dear Orestes, too!  How can we rule
      in our own home?  We're beggars now,
      as if our mother traded us away,
      exchanged us for her mate, Aegisthus,
      her partner in your murder.  For now I live
      just like a slave.  Orestes lives in exile,
      far from his estates.  In their arrogance,
      those two squander all the wealth you worked for.
      And so I pray to you—dear father,
      let good fortune bring Orestes home!
                               180
      Father, hear me.  Make me more self-controlled,                        
[140]
      than mother, my hand more righteous!
      Those are my prayers for us.  Our enemies—
      for them, my father, I pray someone will come
      as your avenger, then kill your killers,
      in retribution, as is just.  As I pray
      for our well being, I include this curse—
      may they be caught by their own evil.
      Bring us your blessing to the earth above,
      with help from gods, and Earth, and Justice,
                    190
      all combined to bring us victory."

[Electra pours out her libation on the tomb]

      Those are my prayers, and over them I pour
      libations.  Your duty now is to lament,
      to crown my prayers with flowers, chanting                               
[150]
      your mournful chorus for the dead.

CHORUS
      Come, let our tears begin, 
      fall, and die, as our master died.
      Let them guard us from evil,
      preserve the good, and keep away
      with our outpoured libations
                                            200
      the polluting curse.
      Hear me, oh hear me,
      my honoured master.
      May your disembodied spirit
      hear my prayer.

      Alas, alas . . . ohhhhhhhh!
      Let him come now,                                                                    
[160]
      some forceful man, 

      a power with the spear.
      May he restore this house,
                                                210
      bent Scythian bow in hand,
      a fist around his sword hilt.
      Like Ares, god of war,
      let him begin the slaughter!

ELECTRA
      My father's now received his offerings.
      The earth has drunk them up.  But look—
      here's something new.  Come, look at it with me.

CHORUS
      Speak up.  My heart's afraid.  It's dancing.

ELECTRA
      I see a lock of hair, an offering . . . on the tomb.

CHORUS
      Whose is it?  A man's?  A full-grown girl's?
                      220

ELECTRA
      It shouldn't be too difficult to guess,                                          
[170]
      to sort out what this indicates.

CHORUS
      How so?  Let your youth instruct your elders.

ELECTRA
      No one but me could have cut this off.

CHORUS
      You're right.  Those who should make offerings,
      cutting their hair in grief, are enemies.

ELECTRA
      Look at this . . . It looks just like . . . 

CHORUS
                                                            Like whose?  
      I want to know.

ELECTRA
                                    Like mine.  It looks identical.

CHORUS
      Perhaps Orestes?  Did he place it here,
      a secret offering?

ELECTRA
                                         It really looks like his . . . 
             230
      these curls . . . 

CHORUS
                             But how could he come back?

ELECTRA
      He sent it here, a token of respect                                             
[180]
      for his dead father.

CHORUS
                                                          Those words of yours
      give us fresh cause for tears, if there's no chance
      Orestes will set foot in this land again.

ELECTRA
      Over my heart, too, breaks a bitter wave.
      I feel as if a sword had sliced right through me.
      Seeing this hair, my eyes weep thirsty drops—
      I can't hold back my flood of grief.  There's no way
      I would expect one of the citizens,
                                   240
      someone in Argos, to own this lock.
      It's clearly not that murderess' hair,
      my mother's—her treatment of her children                              
[190]
      profanes the very name of mother.
      But how can I accept without a doubt
      this offering's from the man I love the most, 
      Orestes? I'm just clinging to a hope.
      Alas.  If only, like a messenger, 
      this hair possessed a friendly human voice,
      my thoughts would not be so distracted.
                          250
      It would tell me clearly what to do.
     
If someone I detest had cut it off, 
      I'd throw this lock away, but if it's from
      my brother, it could share my sorrow,
      adorn this tomb, a tribute to my father.                                       [200]
      I call upon the gods who understand
      how storms whirl us off course, like sailors.
      But if we're fated to come safely home,
      then mighty trees can spring from tiny seeds.

[Electra notices footprints in the dirt around the tomb]

      Here are some footprints—more evidence—                   260
      tracks of feet, just like my own—in pairs—
      two sets of footprints, his own and others,
      some companion's.  The heels, the arches—
      these prints are shaped just like my own . . .                              
[210]

[Electra traces the tracks from the tomb towards Orestes' hiding place.  Orestes emerges to meet her as she follows the footprints]

      The pain of this . . . my mind grows dizzy . . .

ORESTES
      Pray for what must still be done.  Thank the gods
      for answering your prayers. Entreat them
      that all will work out well.

ELECTRA
                                                    What?  The gods?
      What have they given me?

ORESTES
                                                   You've come to see
      the person you've been praying for all this time.
              270

ELECTRA
      Then you know the man I was calling for?

ORESTES
      I know your sympathies are with Orestes.

ELECTRA
      Yes, but how have my prayers been answered now?

ORESTES
      I'm here.  You need look no more for friends.
      I'm the dearest one you have.

ELECTRA
                                                             No, stranger.
      You're weaving a net to trap me with a trick.                             
[220]

ORESTES
      If so, I plot against myself as well.

ELECTRA
      You just want to laugh at my distress.

ORESTES
      If I laugh at you, I'm laughing at myself.

ELECTRA
      Orestes . . . is it truly you?  Can I
                                     280
      call you Orestes?

ORESTES
                                                             Yes, you can.
      You're looking at Orestes in the flesh.
      Why take so long to recognize the truth?
      When you saw the lock of hair, that token
      of my grief, and traced my footprints in the dust,
      your imagination flew—you thought
      you saw me.  Look.  Put this hair in place.
                                  [230]
      It's your brother's.  And it matches yours.
      See this weaving here—that's your handiwork.
      You worked the loom.  Look at this design,
                    290
      these animals . . .

[Electra is finally convinced.  She almost breaks down with joy]

                                      Control yourself.  Calm down.
      Don't get too overjoyed.  Remember this—
      our closest family is our enemy.

ELECTRA
      You dearest member of your father's house.
      the seed of hope through all our weeping
      trust to your own strength and win back again
      your father's home.  How my eyes rejoice!
      To me you are four different loves—fate
      declares that I must call you father,
      and on you falls the love I ought to feel                           300       [240]
      towards my mother, who's earned my hate.
      Then there's the love I bore my sister,
      Iphigeneia, that cruel sacrifice—
      and you're my faithful brother.  You alone
      sustained my sense of honour. May Power
      and Justice stand with us now, our allies—
      and may almighty Zeus make up the third.

ORESTES
      O Zeus, Zeus, look down on what we do!
      See the abandoned fledglings of the eagle,
      whose father perished in the viper's coils,                       310
      that deadly net.  Orphans now, we bear
      the pangs of hunger, not yet mature enough                               [250]
      to bring our father's quarry to the nest.
      See us like this—I mean me and Electra—
      children without a father, both outcasts,
      banished from our home.  If you wipe out
      these fledglings, what respect will you receive
      at feasts from hands like his, their father's,
      who offered you such wealthy sacrifice?
      Kill off the eagle's brood, then who will trust
                  320
      the signs you send?  If this royal stock decays,                            [260]
      it cannot consecrate your altars
      with sacrificial oxen in the morning.
      Stand by us.  You can elevate our house
      from its debased condition, make it great,
      though now it seems completely ruined.

CHORUS LEADER
      Children, saviours of your father's home,
      don't speak too loud.  Someone may hear you,
      my children, and to hear his tongue run on
      report this to those in charge.  How I wish                      330
      I see them dead one day, roasting in flames,
      sizzling like pitch.

ORESTES
      
                                             Apollo's great oracle
      surely will defend me.  Its orders were
      that I should undertake this danger.                                            [270]
      It cried out in prophecy, foretelling
      many winters of calamity would chill
      my hot heart, if I did not take revenge
      on those who killed my father.  It ordered me
      to murder them the way they murdered him,
      insisting they could not pay the penalty                           340
      with their possessions.  The oracle declared,
      "If not, you'll pay the debt with your own life,
      a life of troubles."  It spoke a revelation,
      making known to men the wrath of blood guilt
      from underneath the earth, infectious plagues,
      leprous sores which gnaw the flesh, fangs chewing                     [280]
      living tissue, festering white rot in the sores.
      It mentioned other miseries as well—
      attacks by vengeful Furies, stemming
      from a slaughtered father's blood, dark bolts
                   350
      from gods below, aroused by murdered kinsmen
      calling for revenge, frenzied night fits.
      Such terrors plague the man—he sees them all
      so clearly, eyeballs rolling in the dark.
      Then he's chased in exile from the city,
      his body scourged by bronze-tipped whips.                                 [290]
      A man like this can never share the wine bowl,
      no libations mixed with love. We don't see
      his father's anger, but it casts him out—
      no access to an altar.  There's no relief,
                           360
      and no one takes him in, until at last,
      universally despised, without a friend,
      he wastes in all-consuming pain and dies.
      Am I not right to trust such oracles?
      Even if I don't, the work must still be done.
      Many feelings lead to one conclusion—
      the gods' decree, my keen paternal grief,                                     [300]
      the weight of poverty I bear.  Besides,
      my countrymen, most glorious of men,
      whose courageous spirit brought down Troy,
                  370
      should not be subject to a pair of women.
      For Aegisthus is at heart a woman—
      if not, we'll learn about it soon enough.

CHORUS
      Oh mighty Fates, bring all this to pass.
      Through Zeus' power, make all things right.
      For Justice, as she turns the scales
      exacting retribution, cries aloud,
      "Hostile words for hostile words—                                            
[310]
      let it be done. One murderous stroke
      is paid off by another lethal blow.
                                    380
      The one who acts must suffer."
      So runs the ancient saying,
      now three generations old.

ORESTES
      Oh my unhappy father,
      what can I say for you or do,
      to send you, where you rest
      so far away, some light
      to drive away your darkness?
      But nonetheless some joy                                                           
[320]
      comes from a funeral lament
                                           390
      for glorious sons of Atreus,
      who once possessed the house.

CHORUS
      My child, among the dead
      the savage jaws of fire
      cannot destroy the spirit.
      He'll show his rage in time.
      Dead men receive their dirge—
      the guilty stand revealed.
      A father's funeral lament,
      strong and clear and just,
                                                 400
      searches far and wide,                                                                
[330]
      confounding those who killed. 

ELECTRA
      Hear us now, my father,
      as, in turn, we mourn and weep.
      Your two children at your tomb
      now sing your death song.
      Your tomb has welcomed us,
      two suppliants and outcasts.
      What in this is good?
      What free from trouble?
                                                  410
      Who wrestles death and wins?

CHORUS
      But if god wills it, he can turn                                                    
[340]
      our dirges into joyful songs— 
      instead of funeral laments
      around this monument
      chants of triumph ringing out
      throughout the palace halls,
      a welcome celebration
      for reunion with a friend.

ORESTES
      My father, if only you had died
                                       420
      hit by some Lycian spear at Troy!
      You'd have left your glory
      with your children in their home.
      In their dealings with the world
      men would now honour them.                                                   
[350]
      You'd have won a tomb raised high
      in lands across the seas, a death
      your home could bear with ease.

CHORUS
      Dear to the men you loved,
      the ones who died so bravely,                                        
430
      you'd stand out under earth,
      as a majestic lord, minister
      of the mightiest gods below,
      who rule the dead.  In life,
      you were a king of men—                                                          
[360]
      the ones who hold the staff
      that every man obeys,
      those with authority
      to sentence men to die.

ELECTRA
      I don't want you dead, my father,
                                    440
      not even under Trojan walls,
      with all those other men
      who perished by the spear,
      where the Scamander flows.
      No.  I'd much prefer
      your killers had been killed
      by their own families,
      just as they murdered you.
      People then in far-off lands
      would hear about their deaths         
                                450        [370]
      and not our present trouble.

CHORUS
      Children, these things you say
      are merely your desires,
      finer than gold, greater still
      than the great happiness
      of those who live in bliss
      beyond the northern wind.
      But wishing is an easy thing.
      Still, now it's striking home,
      that double whip—for now
                                             460
      protectors underneath the earth
      are helping us. Our masters
      are unholy creatures
      with polluted hands.
      The children win the day!

ORESTES
      Our words, like arrows,                                                             
[380]
      pierce down into the earth
      straight to my father's ear.
      O Zeus, Zeus, send us
      from the world below 
                                                     470
      your long-delayed revenge,
      pay back the wickedness
      brought on by human hands.
      Oh, let that come to pass—
      and thus avenge all fathers.

CHORUS
      Let my heart cry out in triumph
      when that man is stabbed,
      when that woman dies.
      Why should my spirit hide
      what hovers here before me,
                                            480
      when driving hatred, like a storm,                                              
[390]
      a biting head wind,
      breaks across my heart?

ELECTRA
      Oh, when will mighty Zeus
      strike them with his fist—
      split their skulls apart!
      Alas, alas! Give our land
      some sign—confirm our faith.
      From these crimes I seek
      the rights of justice.
                                                         490
      Oh Earth, hear me, and you,
      blessed gods in earth below.

CHORUS
      It's the law—once drops of blood                                             
[400]
      are shed upon the ground
      they cry out for still more blood.
      Slaughter calls upon the Furies
      of those who have been killed.
      Thus, hard on murder's heels
      destruction comes again.

ORESTES
      Lords of the world below, alas,
                                       500
      see the mighty curses of the dead.
      See survivors of the line of Atreus,
      here in our helplessness,
      outcasts from home, dishonoured.
      Oh Zeus, where can we turn?

CHORUS
      My fond heart races once again                                                 
[410]
      to hear your pitiful lament.
      But as I listen to your words
      I lose my hope. My heart
      grows dark.  But then again
                                             510
      hope comes to make me strong—
      all my unhappiness is gone.
      I see a bright new dawn.

ELECTRA
      To what can we appeal? What else
      but to the agonies we suffer,
      anguish from the one who bore us,
      our mother.  So let her grovel.                                                   
[420]
      She'll not appease our pain.
      We
're bred from her, like wolves,
      whose savage hearts do not relent.
                                  520

CHORUS
      Like some Asian wailing woman,
      I beat out my lament, my fists
      keep pounding out the blows
      in quick succession.  You see
      my hands—I stretch them out,
      then strike down from above.
      My torment beats upon my head
      until it breaks for sorrow.

ELECTRA
      Oh cruel and reckless mother,                                                   
[430]
      that savage burial, our king,
                                             530
      no fellow citizens around,
      no suffering procession—
      you dared place him in the tomb
      without the rites of mourning.

ORESTES
      Alas. As you say, totally disgraced. 
      But she'll pay for his dishonour,
      by the gods, by my own hands.
      Let me kill her. Then let me die.

CHORUS
      And let me tell you this—
      she first hacked off his limbs, 
                                         540        [440]
      then hung them round his neck.
      That's how she buried him,
      to make that slaughter
      a burden on your life—
      a thing you couldn't bear.
      You hear me? Your father's death—
      she made it an abomination.

ELECTRA
      You describe my father's death,
      but I too was utterly disgraced,
      worth nothing, set apart,
                                                  550
      inside a cell, as if I were
      some rabid dog.  I wept.
      What had I to laugh about,
      as I shed all those tears in hiding?
      Hear that.  Carve that on your heart.                                         
[450]

CHORUS
      Let your ears pick up her story,
      but keep your spirit firm.
      Things now stand as they stand.
      You're keen to know what's next,
      but you must wait, prepared
                                            570
      to fight on with no turning back.

ORESTES
      Father, I call on you.  Stand by your children.

ELECTRA
      Through these tears I join his call.

CHORUS
      In unison, our voices blend as one—
      hear us.  Return into the light.
      Join us against our enemies.                                                       
[460]

ORESTES
      Now war god Ares goes to meet
      the war god Ares.  Right fights with right.

ELECTRA
      Dear gods, let justice choose what's right.

CHORUS
      I hear these prayers and shudder.
                                     580
      This doom's been long delayed,
      but it does come for those who pray.

      Oh, family bred for torments,
      for the bloody strokes
      of harsh discordant ruin,
      for pains beyond enduring,
      grief that can't be staunched.                                                     
[470]

      For all this evil there's a remedy,
      not from some stranger,
      someone outside the house,
                                             590
      but from within, the cure
      that blood strife brings,
      their savage bloody fight.
      To gods beneath the ground
      we sing this hymn.

      Hear us, you blessed gods of earth,
      hear this supplication, and assist
      with your good will these children.
      Give them the victory!

ORESTES
      Father, you may not have perished like a king,
                600
      but, in answer to my prayer, make me                                       
[480]
      the master of your house.

ELECTRA
                                                 I, too, father,
      have a request of you—let me escape,
      once I've accomplished this enormous task,
      once Aegisthus is destroyed.

ORESTES
                                                                     Yes.  
      Then men would set up on your behalf
      those feasts of honour our laws demand.
      But otherwise, when people sacrifice
      burnt offering to Earth at solemn banquets
      they will not honour you. 

ELECTRA
                                                         And I, too,
                    610
      at my marriage feast, from the full store
      of what I inherit in my father's house,
      will pour libations to you. And your tomb
      I'll honour above all other shrines.

ORESTES
      O Earth, send my father up to see our fight.

ELECTRA
      O Persephone, grant us glorious power.                                    
[490]

ORESTES
      My father, remember that bath
      where you were slaughtered.

ELECTRA
      Remember the net in which they killed you.

ORESTES
      My father, you were trapped in fetters,
                            620
      but they weren't forged in bronze.

ELECTRA
                                                  They covered you
      with their deceit and shame.

ORESTES
                                            Father, these taunts—
      do they not stir your spirit?

ELECTRA
                                                  Will you raise
      that beloved head of yours upright?

ORESTES
      Either send Justice here to stand with us,
      the ones you love, or let us, in our turn,
      catch them in our grip, as they caught you—
      that is, if you want to beat them down,
      after the way they overpowered you.

ELECTRA
      Father, listen to my last appeal—            
                         630       [500]
      see your children huddled at your tomb.
      Take pity on them, your son and daughter.

ORESTES
      Don't let the seed of Pelops disappear.
      With us alive, in death you cannot die.

ELECTRA
      For to a man that's dead his children
      are saving testament—like corks,
      they hold up the net and keep the mesh
      from sinking deep into the sea.  

ORESTES
                                                          Hear us!
      We're making our lament on your behalf.
      Honour our request and save yourself.
                            640

CHORUS LEADER
      There's nothing wrong expanding your lament.                         
[510]
      For that will honour this neglected tomb.
      But since your heart is rightly set to act, 
      it's time to test your fortune, time to start.

ORESTES
      You're right. But first we might ask this question:
      Why did that woman send out these libations?
      What did she have in mind, trying so late
      to heal a crime which cannot be forgiven?
      What she sent here was paltry tribute
      to the unforgiving dead.  I don't see
                                 650
      what she intends. The gift's too trivial
      for her offence.  As the old saying runs,
      "Pour out all you've got to make amends                                   [520]
      for bloodshed, your work is all in vain."
      If you know her reason, tell me now.
      I'd like to hear.

CHORUS LEADER
                                   My child, I knowI was there.
      She had bad dreams.  Vague terrors in the night
      upset her.  So that godless woman sent these gifts.

ORESTES
      Do you know the nature of her dreams?
      Can you give me details?

CHORUS LEADER
                                                    She'd given birth,
               660
      but to a snake.  That's what she told me.

ORESTES
      How did the dream end up?  What happened?

CHORUS LEADER
      She set it in bed wrapped in swaddling clothes,
      just like a child.

ORESTES
                                         And that newborn snake,
      what did it want for nourishment?                                              [530]

CHORUS LEADER
      She dreamt she offered it her breasts. 

ORESTES
      Didn't the monster bite her nipple?

CHORUS LEADER
      No.  But with her milk it sucked out clots of blood.

ORESTES
      It's an omen.  Her vision means a man.

CHORUS LEADER
      She woke up with a scream, quite terrified.
                     670
      Many torches which stay unlit at night
      were set ablaze throughout the house
      to calm our mistress.  Then she sent out
      libations for the dead—in the hope
      they'd work like medicine for her distress.

ORESTES
      I pray to Earth and to my father's tomb                                     
[540]
      that this dream will fulfill itself in me.
      I think it matches me in every point.
      If that snake came from the same womb as me,
      if it was wrapped up in my swaddling clothes
                  680
      and opened up its jaws to suck the milk
      that nourished me, mixing sweet milk with blood,
      so she cried out in terror at the sight,
      then that must mean she'll die by violence,
      from nursing such a violent beast.
      I am that snake.  And I will kill her.                                          
[550]
      That's the meaning of this dream.

CHORUS LEADER
      Your reading of her dream seems right to me.
      So let it come.  Tell your friends the rest—
      what they must do or take care not to do.
                       690

ORESTES
      My plan is simple.  First, Electra here
     
must go inside.  I'm instructing her
      to keep this bond with me a secret.
      The two in there deceived a noble man,
      then killed him.  So we'll use deceit on them.
      They'll die in the same net.  Lord Apollo,
      who's never wrong in what he prophesies,
      has ordered this.  I'll approach the outer gates,                           [560]
      pretending I'm a stranger, prepared
      for anything.  Pylades goes with me,
                                700
      as guest and ally of the house.  We two
      will speak Parnassian dialect of Phocis.
      If no one at the gate is in the mood 
      to let us in, alleging that the house
      is haunted by some evil demon,
      we'll wait there so any passer-by
      will be intrigued and say, "What's going on?
      Why does Aegisthus shut his doors like this                              
[570]
      against a suppliant?  Is he at home?
      Is he aware of this?"  If I get past the gate,
                      710
      across the outer threshold, then find that man
      seated on my father's throne or meet him
      face to face, his eyes will shift and fall,
      I promise you. Before he's had time to ask,
      "Stranger, what country are you from?"
      I'll kill him quickly with my sword.  
      Our Fury never lacked for blood—
      for her third draught she'll drink his pure.

      Now, Electra, keep a close watch in there,
      check what's going on inside the house.
                           720
      We'll need to work on this together.                                           [580]
      You women, be careful what you say
      keep quiet—speak only when you have to.
      As for the rest, I invoke Apollo
      to cast his eyes down here and be my guide
      when the time comes to fight it out with swords.

[Orestes, Pylades, and Electra leave together]

CHORUS
      Earth brings forth many horrors
      terrors and agonies—the sea's arms
      hold monsters, savage beasts.
      Between the earth and heaven
                                         730
      hang fiery lights, suspended high.                                               [590]
      Winged birds and beasts
      that walk along the ground
      can also speak of storms,
      the whirlwind's power.

      But who of us can speak
      about the arrogance of men
      or women's reckless passion
      beyond all self-control,
      so they become conspirators 
                                           740
      in all our lethal woes?
      Passionate desire wins out—
      it gains a fatal victory
      in every woman. 
      It ends all married love                                                               [600]
      in men and beasts.

      A man with any sense
      should recognize these things,
      once he recalls Althaea,
      ruthless child of Thestius,
                                                750
      who planned her own son's ruin.
      She burned the fatal torch,
      knowing that Meleager's life,
      from the time he first appeared
      howling from his mother's womb,
      depended on that wood.
      And so it was—he stayed alive 
                                                  [610]
      until her fire doomed him.

      Another story of a hateful girl
     
tells of that murderous Scylla,
                                         760
      who killed her father,
      brought to it by his enemies.
      Tempted by a gift from Minos,
      a golden necklace made in Crete,
      she plucked out her father's hair,
      the one which made Nisus immortal.
      As he lay peacefully asleep,                                                        [620]
      he died, murdered by that bitch,
      and Hermes led him off.

      As I recall these stories                                                    770
      of savagery without remorse,
      it's time to speak of marriages
      in which there was no love,
      which laid a curse upon the house,
      schemes devised by woman's cunning
      against her warrior lord, a man
      his enemies have cause to honour.
      I value hearth and home
      where passions do not rule,
      where women's spirits
                                                      780
      rein in their waywardness.                                                          [630]

      Of all such tales of crime, the worst
      concerns the isle of Lemnos,
      where all the women killed their men.
      At that story people moan
      they weep for that abomination.
      When some new troubles come
      men measure them by Lemnos.
      Horror at that deed brought on
      the hatred of the gods, and thus,
                                     790
      cast out by humankind and in disgrace,
      that women's race dies out.
      No man can hold in reverence 
      what gods abhor.  So of these tales
      which one can I not justly cite?

      Justice wields her sword.
      She thrusts it home
      hungry and sharp,                                                                        [640]
      it slices deep, 
      right by the lungs
                                                         800
      and so the lawlessness
      of those who flout what's right,
      who violate the majesty of Zeus,
      lies trampled underfoot.

      The anvil of Justice now holds firm.
      Fate hammers out her sword—
      she forges it in time.
      At last the brooding Fury comes,
      famous spirit of revenge—
      leading a child inside the house,
                                      810
      to cleanse the stain of blood,                                                      [650]
      the family curse from long ago.

[Enter Orestes and Pylades, with a couple of attendants.  They move up to the front doors of the royal palace.  Orestes knocks loudly on the door]

ORESTES
      Hey, in there!  You hear this knocking on the door?
      I'll try again.  Anyone in there? 
      All right, a third attempt.  I'm knocking here—
      are you coming out?  Anyone in there?
      Hello!  Does Aegisthus welcome strangers?

SERVANT [from within]
      All right.  All right. I hear you.  Stranger,
      what country are you from?   Who are you?

ORESTES
      Announce me to the masters of the house.
                      820
      I've come to bring them news.  And hurry!                                
[660]
      Night's black chariot is speeding overhead.
      It's time for people on the road to rest—
      drop anchor where all strangers feel at home.
      Tell someone to come out who's in control—
      the mistress would be fine, the master
      even better.  We could speak our minds.
      After all, politeness can obscure the sense.
      When we talk man to man, we get the point—
      we say just what we mean without reserve.
                     830

[Clytaemnestra and Electra enter through the palace doors]

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      Stranger, welcome.  Just ask for what you need.
      Inside we have all luxuries of home
      warm baths and beds to charm away your pains. 
                      [670]
      We live under the eyes of Justice here.
      But if your business is more serious,
      men's work, then we'll send for Aegisthus.

ORESTES
      I'm a stranger—a Daulian from Phocis—
      coming to Argos on private business,
      carrying this pack.  I need to pause and rest.      
      On my way here I ran into a man
                                 840
      we'd never met before.  He told me
      where he was going and asked my route.
      As we talked, I learned his nameStrophius.
      He came from Phocis, too.  And he said this,
      "Well, friend, since you're heading off to Argos,                        [680]
      here's a message for Orestes' parents,
      something they've a right to know, so please
      remember it: Orestes is dead.  Don't forget.
      Then, when you return, you can tell me
      whether his family wants to bring him back
                    850
      or have him buried here in Phocis,
      where he's a stranger, forever outcast.
      Right now his ashes sit in a bronze urn.
      The man was truly mourned."  That's my message.
      That's what I heard.  At this point I'm not sure
      whether I'm telling this to anyone who cares,
      but Orestes' parent ought to be informed.                                  [690]

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      I . . . this news . . . what you just said . . .
      it's shattering . . . that curse we can't repress.
      It haunts the house, ranges everywhere . . . 
                    860
      Someone kept safe and far away from here
      the curse seeks out.  Its arrow strikes and kills.
      It takes those I love, drives me to desperation.
      And now Orestes.  He was well prepared.
      He kept his feet well clear of muddy ground
      where hidden danger lurks.  He offered hope
      the Furies' striking revels in this house
      might find a cure.  Now, from what you say,
      we've lost that hope.

ORESTES
      
                          As far as I'm concerned,                                    [700]
      with hosts as prosperous as you, I wish
                           870
      you'd seen me as the bearer of good news
      and welcomed me for that. What's kinder
      than the link between a stranger and his host?
      But to my mind, it would have been profane
      if I'd not told his loved ones, as I promised,
      as hospitality demands.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
                                                      Don't worry.
      You'll receive what you deserve.  In this house
      you're no less welcome for your news,
      which, in any case, someone else would bring.
      But now's the time when strangers on the road
               880        [710]
      get entertained once their long  journey's done.

[Clytaemnestra turns to Electra, ordering her as if she were a servant]

      You there—take this traveler to the rooms
      we use to entertain our guests—and with him
      these fellow travelers, his attendants.
      Look after them the way this house requires.
      Those are my orders.  See you follow them.
      I'm holding you responsible.  Meanwhile,
      I'll go find the master of the house,
      tell him the news.  We don't lack friends—
      from them we'll seek advice about this death.
                 890

[Electra escorts Orestes, Pylades, and their attendants into the palace.  Clytaemnestra enters the palace.  The Chorus is left alone on stage]

CHORUS LEADER
      Dear fellow slaves who serve this house,
      how long before our words can demonstrate
      just how strongly we support Orestes?                                      
[720]

CHORUS
      O sacred Earth, 
      heaped-up burial mound,
      lying above that noble corpse,
      commander of the ships,
      hear me now,
      help me now.
      Now's the moment
                                                           900
      for Persuasion to come in
      with her deceit,
      for that stealthy god,
      Hermes of the lower world,
      to guide the fight,
      the fatal clash of swords.

[Enter Orestes' Nurse, Cilissa, in tears]

CHORUS LEADER
      It seems the stranger's mischief is at work.                                 [730]
      Here comes Orestes' nurse.  I see she's crying.
      Cilissa, why are you walking by the gates,
      with your unpaid companion Sorrow?
                             910

NURSE
      My mistress ordered me to fetch Aegisthus
      to meet the strangers—and to hurry up—
      so he can find out clearly, man to man, 
      the news that's just arrived.  With servants
      she puts on her gloomy face, but deep down
      her eyes are laughing at how well all this
      has ended up for her.  But for this house                                    [740]
      the stranger's news is simply a disaster.
      Once Aegisthus hears, gets the full report,
      he'll jump for joy.  How miserable I feel!
                         920
      The old troubles of the house of Atreus,
      so hard to bear, how they've hurt my heart.
      I get these chest pains.  But a blow like this—
      I've never had to bear such sorrow.
      Other troubles I've endured with patience,
      but dear Orestes, how it breaks my heart.
      When he was born, I got him from his mother.                           [750]
      I nursed him. I spent all night on my feet,
      answering his cries.  So much tiring work
      all for nothing.  A helpless child like that
                        930
      one has to nurse as if he were a beast.
      How'd I do that?  By following his moods.
      A child in swaddling clothes can't speak at all.
      So if he needed something to eat or drink, 
      or had just wet himself, his one response
      came from his instincts.  So I had to use
      a prophet's skill.  But often I was wrong.
      I had to launder linen.  Yes, I was
      wet nurse and washerwoman, all in one,                                     [760]
      two special skills.  I received Orestes
                              940
      from his own father's hands.  Now he's dead.
      That's what I've been told.  It makes me cry.
      Well, I must go.  I have to fetch Aegisthus,
      the man who brought this house to ruin.
      He'll be glad enough to hear my words.

CHORUS LEADER
      Did she tell him how to come and what to bring?

NURSE
      How's that?  Say it again. I need a clearer sense
      of what you're asking.

CHORUS LEADER
                              
                Did she tell him
      to come with guards or unattended?

NURSE
      She said he should bring his spearmen with him.
            950

CHORUS LEADER
      Don't give that message to Aegisthus,                                        [770]
      that hateful tyrant.  Tell him to come alone,
      with a joyous heart, as quickly as he can.
      He won't suspect a thing.  The messenger
      can straighten out a crooked message.

NURSE
      What?  Does your heart feel good about this news?

CHORUS LEADER
      Why not, if Zeus turns evil into good?

NURSE
      How's that to happen?  Orestes,
      the house's hope, is gone.

CHORUS LEADER
                                                               Not so fast.
      A prophet who claimed that would be a bad one.      
     960

NURSE
      What are you saying?  Do you know something
      more than what I've heard?

CHORUS LEADER
      
                                                          Go on then.
      Relay your message.  Do what you've been told.
      Let the gods care about what most concerns them.                    [780]

NURSE
      All right, I'll go and do what you suggest.
      With blessings from the gods, I pray all this
      will work out for the best.

[Exit Nurse, off in search of Aegisthus, who is not in the palace]

CHORUS
      Now, in answer to my prayers,
      I implore you, Zeus,
      father of Olympian gods,
                                                 970
      restore this house,
      give it good fortune, so those 
      who rightly love due order
      may witness it right here.
      In every word we cry,
      we plead for justice.
      O Zeus, protect what's right.

      Zeus, Zeus,
      inside that palace                                                                        [790]
      place him face to face
                                                      980
      before his enemies.
      If you exalt him
      he'll willingly repay you,
      three or four times over.

      You know that orphan colt,
      child of a man you cherish,
      stands now in harness,
      yoked to a chariot of pain.
      Control the way he runs,
      preserve his pace,
                                                            990
      so he will last the course,
      and we may see him surge,
      as he races to his goal.

      You gods inside the house,                                                         [800]
      in those inner chambers,
      where you celebrate its wealth,
      hear me, you gods
      who sympathize with us.
      Cleanse that ancient blood
      of crimes committed long ago.
                                        1000
      Let old murder cease to breed.

      And Apollo, you who dwell
      in that massive well-built cavern,
      grant that this man's house
      may raise its head once more,
      so with loving eyes we see
      the veil of darkness yield                                                           
[810]
      to freedom's light.

      May Hermes, Maia's son,
      support him in what's right.
                                             1010
      He sends the finest winds
      to hold an enterprise on course,
      when that's his will—
      and when he so desires,
      he will make known
      much hidden from our view, 
      or speak in riddles in the night,
      darkening men's eyes,
      which see no better by the light of day.

      Soon at last we'll shout in song                                       1020
      of the deliverance of this house—                                              
[820]
      no shrill lament of those who mourn,
      but robust songs the sea wives sing
      when the wind sits fair,
      "Good sailing now—for me,
      for me this means more riches—
      no dangers for the ones I love."

      But you, Orestes, do your part—
      when your moment comes, be brave.
      When she cries out "My son!"
                                        1030
      cry in return "My father's son!"
      Then murder her in innocence.                                                  
[830]

      In your heart maintain
      the heart of Perseus.
      Satisfy the rage
      of those you love 
      under the earth,
      and here above.
      With blood murder
      inside the house
                                                              1040
      eradicate the cause
      of all our blood-guilt. 

[Enter Aegisthus]

AEGISTHUS
      A stranger's story called me here
      I'm told that travelers have arrived
      with startling and unwelcome news—
                                        [840]
      Orestes is dead—yet one more burden
      laid upon this house, a terrifying load,
      while it still bears raw festering wounds
      from earlier murder.  But is what they saw
      the living truth?  That's what I must confirm.
                 1050
      Or is it some fearful women's gossip,
      which blazes up, then dies away to nothing?
      Can you clear my mind?  What do you know?

CHORUS LEADER
      Well, we heard the news.  But go inside.
      You can learn it from the guests themselves.
      The power in a messenger's report
      is not like hearing what he has to say
      when you confront him face to face.                                          
[850]

AEGISTHUS
      I want to see this messenger and check
      if he was present at Orestes' death,
                                1060
      or if he's just repeating what he heard
      from some vague rumours.  I'll see through him.
      These keen eyes of mine won't be deceived.

[Exit Aegisthus into the palace]

 CHORUS
                                           Zeus, O Zeus,
      what do I say? How do I start
      appealing to the gods in prayer?
      How from a loyal heart
      can I find what to say,
      matching words with deeds?
      Now blood-stained blades
                                              1070
      are slicing men to death                                                              [860]
      and totally destroy forever
      Agamemnon's house, or else
      with freedom's blazing light
      Orestes wins the throne,
      and all his father's riches.
      The ambush now is set—
      noble Orestes by himself
      must face two enemies.
      Let him emerge the victor!
                                              1080

[Aegisthus screams in pain from inside the palace]

CHORUS MEMBERS [speaking separately]
      Listen!                                                                                         [870]
      
               What was that?
            
                                     What's going on
      in there, inside the palace?

[Some members of the chorus start to move towards the palace doors]

CHORUS LEADER
      Stay back.  Until this work is finished,
      we won't get involved in all the bloodshed.
      That way no one can blame us.

[A servant emerges through the palace doors]

                                                                         It's over.
      Whatever the result, the fighting's over.

SERVANT
      Oh, it's horrible—my master's killed!
      He's dead.  Alas.  I'll cry it out again,
      a third time, Aegisthus is no more!

[The servant moves to a side door and tries desperately to pull it open]

      Come on! Come on!  Open this door!  Hurry!                 1090
      Unbolt the women's doors!  A strong right arm
      is all it takes!  Not to help Aegisthus—
      he's already dead.  No point in trying.
                                         [880]
      Come on!  Am I shouting to the deaf,
      or are you all asleep?  

[The servant gives up pounding on the side door]

                                                  A waste of time.
      Where's Clytaemnestra gone?  What's she doing?
      Her own neck's resting on the razor's edge—
      this justice could strike her down as well.

[Enter Clytaemnestra through the doors]

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      What's happening?  Why are you shouting
      all around the house?

SERVANT
                                               I'm telling you
                        1100
      the dead are murdering the living!

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      I see.  I understand your paradox.
      We
're being destroyed by someone's trickery,
      just as we destroyed.  All right, then,
      get me a man-killing axe—and quickly!

[Exit servant into the palace]

      Let's see now if we win through or lose.                                      [890]
      The wretched business brings me down to this.

[The palace doors open to reveal the dead body of Aegisthus with Orestes standing over it.  Pylades is beside Orestes]

ORESTES
      The very one I seek.  This fellow here
      has had enough.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
                                                 No, not Aegisthus,
      not my love, my power . . . dead.
                                    1110

ORESTES
      You loved this man?  Then you'll find your rest
      in a common grave with him—he's one man
      you won't abandon when he dies.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      Hold off, my son, my child.  Take pity
      on these breasts.  Here you often lay asleep.
      Your toothless gums sucked out the milk
      that made you strong.

ORESTES
                                   Pylades, what do I do?
      It's a dreadful act to kill my mother.

PYLADES
      What then becomes of what Apollo said,                                  
[900]
      what he foretold at Delphi?  We made an oath.
             1120
      Make all men your enemies but not the gods.

ORESTES
      That's good advice.  As judge in this debate
      I say you prevail.

[Orestes turns on Clytaemnestra, pulls her towards the body of Aegisthus]

                                                         Over here.
      I want to kill you right beside this man.
      When he was alive, you considered him 
      better than my father, so once you're dead
      you can sleep on by his side.  You loved him.
      The man you should have loved you hated.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      I brought you up.  Let me grow old with you.

ORESTES
      What?  Kill my father and then live with me?
                  1130

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      My child, in this our fate's to blame.                                          
[910]

ORESTES
      Then, in the same way, Fate brings your death.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      My son, do you not fear your mother's curse?

ORESTES
      You bore me, then threw me out to misery.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      No, no—I sent you to live with a friend.

ORESTES
      You sold me in disgrace—a free man's son.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      What's the price I charged for you?

ORESTES
      That's too shameful to declare in public.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      Don't forget to name your father's failings, too.

ORESTES
      Don't charge him with anything—he worked hard
         1140
      while you sat here at home.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      
                                         My son, it's painful                            [920]
      for women to go on without their men.

ORESTES
      Maybe, but while they're safe at home, their men
      look after them.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
                                  My son, you really mean to do this—
      to slaughter your own mother?

ORESTES
                                                       You kill yourself.
      I'll not be the murderer.  You will.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
                                                             Take care.
      The vicious hounds which avenge all mothers
      will hunt you down.

ORESTES
                                           What about my father's.
      If I don't kill you, there's no escaping them.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
      It seems as if, while still alive, I waste
                            1150
      my useless tears at my own tomb.

ORESTES
      My father's destiny has marked you out.
      It states that you must die.

CLYTAEMNESTRA
                                                     Alas for me.
      You are the snake I bore and nourished.

ORESTES
      Yes.  That terror in your dream foretold the truth.
      You killed the man you should not kill, and now                      
[930]
      you'll suffer what no one should ever see.

[Orestes pushes Clytaemnestra inside the palace doors.  Pylades goes with them.  The doors close behind them]

CHORUS LEADER
      The fate of these two victims makes me grieve.
      But long-suffering Orestes rides the crest
      of so much bloodshed, we'd prefer he triumph—
           1160
      the bright eyes of this house must never fade.

CHORUS
      Just as justice came at last
      to Priam and his sons,
      a crushing retribution,
      so a double lion comes
      to Agamemnon's house,
      a two-fold slaughter.
      Apollo's suppliant, the exile,                                                      
[940]
      sees his action through,
      driven on by justice
                                                        1170
      sent from gods above.

      Raise now a shout of triumph
      above our master's house, 
      free of misery at last,
      free of that tainted couple
      squandering its wealth,
      and free of its unhappy fate.

      He came back with a secret plan,
      fighting to win crafty vengeance.
      The goddess took him by the hand,
                                1180
      true daughter of great Zeus,
      his guide throughout the fight.                                                   
[950]
      Men call her rightful Justice—
      who destroys her enemies
      once she breathes in anger.

      Raise a shout of triumph now
      above our master's house,
      free of misery at last,
      free of that tainted couple
      squandering its wealth,
                                                   1190
      free of its unhappy destiny.

      From his shrine deep within the earth,
      Parnassian Apollo spoke in prophecy
      "Well intentioned stealthy trickery
      will conquer long-entrenched deceit."
      I pray his words somehow prevail,
      so I never am a slave to wickedness.
      True reverence should worship heaven's rule.
                            [960]

      Look now, dawn is coming!
      Great chains on the home are falling off.
                       1200
      Let this house rise up!  For far too long
      it's lain in pieces on the ground.

      Time, which brings all things to pass,
      will soon move through these doors,
      once purifying rites expel
      polluting evil.  That will change
      the roll of fortune's dice—they'll fall
      so all can see the fair result,
      a happy destiny once more 
                                                         [970]
      for all who live within the house.
                                   1210

      Look now, dawn is coming!
      Great chains on the home are falling off.
      Let this house rise up!  For far too long
      it's lain in pieces on the ground.

[The palace doors are thrown open, revealing Orestes standing above the bodies of Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra.  Pylades stands beside Orestes.  With them are attendants holding the bloodstained robes of Agamemnon]

ORESTES
      Here you see them—this pair of tyrants.
      They killed my father, then robbed my home.
      Once they sat enthroned in regal splendour.
      They're lovers still, as you can witness here
      by how they died, true to the oaths they swore.
      They made a pact to murder my poor father,
                1220
      then die together.  Well, they've kept their word.

[Orestes starts unfurling the robes in which Agamemnon was killed]

      Look at this again, all those of you                                            [980]
      who pay attention to this house's troubles.
      This robe they used to trap my helpless father.
      With it they tied his hands and lashed his feet.
      Spread it out. Stand round here in a group—
      put it on display, my father's death shroud,
      so that the Father (not mine—the one
      who sees everything, the Sun) can see
      my mother's sacrilege. Then he will come
                       1230
      on the day when I am judged, to testify
      that I pursued and even killed my mother
      in a just cause.  About Aegisthus' death
      there's nothing I need say. As an adulterer,
                                [990]
      he dies—our law's just punishment.
      But as for her who planned this evil act
      against her husband, a man whose children
      she carried in her womb—I loved her once,
      but she became my bitter enemy,
      as you can see.  What do you make of her?
                     1240
      If she'd been born a viper or sea snake,
      she wouldn't need to bite—her very touch 
      would make men rot, so evil is her heart,
      so reckless.

[Orestes stoops and picks up the bloody robe]

                                                           What do I call this?
      What fine words will do?  A snare for some wild beast?
      A corpse's shroud?  The curtain from a bath
      wrapped round his legs? No.  It's a hunting net.
      That name sounds right—robes to trap a man,      
                      [1000]
      entangling his feet, something a highway thief
      might use to trick and rob a stranger.
                             1250
      With such a net he'd take so many lives,.
      his pleasure in the work would warm his heart.
      May I never live with such a woman.
      Before that, let the gods destroy me—
      let me die without a child.

CHORUS
      Alas for this horrific act,
      the monstrous way she died.
      But woe on the survivor, too—
      his suffering begins to flower.

ORESTES
      Did she commit the crime or not?  Come here.   
           1260        [1010]
      This clothing is my witness, dyed with blood.
      It's from Aegisthus' blade.  These bloody stains
      with time have blotted out the fine embroidery.
      But I can praise my father; now at last
      I'm here to mourn him, as I hold this robe,
      the net that brought about my father's death.
      But I lament my act, my suffering.
      I mourn the entire race, for though I've won,
      I can't avoid the guilt which now pollutes me.

CHORUS
      No mortal goes through life unscathed, 
                         1270
      free from pain until the end.
      One trouble comes today,
      yet another comes tomorrow.                                                     
[1020]

ORESTES [starting to break down]
      But still, you need to understand . . .
      I don't know how this will end . . . I feel like
      some chariot racer lashing on my team,
      but we're way off track . . . My mind is racing . . .
      it's lost control.  Something's overpowering me . . .
      carrying me off . . .  Deep in my heart, fear
      prepares its furious song and dance. 
                              1280
      So while I still have my wits about me,
      to all my friends I publicly proclaim
      I killed my mother not without just cause.
      She was guilty of my father's murder,
      a woman gods despised.  What drove me on?
      I cite as my chief cause the Delphic prophet,                             
[1030]
      Apollo's priest, who said this to me, 
      "If you carry out this act, you'll go free—
      no charge of evil.  But if you refuse . . . "
      I won't describe the punishment—  
                              1290
      no arrow fired from a bow could reach
      the top of so much pain.  

[Pylades hands Orestes an olive branch, the mark of a suppliant to Apollo's oracle at Delphi]

                                                 Look at me now—
      armed with this branch and wreath, I go
      a suppliant to earth's central navel stone,
      Apollo's realm, to that sacred flame
      which, people say, never dies away,
      an exile who murdered his own blood.
      Apollo's prophet gave me his orders—
      I'm to go to his shrine, no other place.
      As to how I did this brutal act, 
                                      1300
      I call all men of Argos—be my witnesses
                                    [1040]
      to Menelaus when he comes back home.
      Remember me in years to come.  Now I go,
      wandering in exile from my country.
      Whether I live or die, I leave with you
      your memory of me.

CHORUS LEADER
                                      But you've done great things.  
      Why depress your spirit with such talk,
      ominous predictions, evil omens?
      You've freed the city, all of Argos,
      hacking off the heads of those two serpents,
                  1310
      a healing blow.

[Orestes is suddenly overpowered with fear by a vision of his mother's Furies coming after him]

ORESTES 
                                                      No . . . They're here . . .
      Look, you women . . . over there . . . 
      like Gorgons draped in black . . . their heads 
      hundreds of writhing snakes . . .                                                 
[1050]
      I can't stand it here . . . 

CHORUS LEADER
                                       What's wrong?  What are you looking at?
      Of all men you have a father's strongest love,
      so stay calm.  Don't give in to fear

ORESTES
                                                           It's no imagined horror.
      It's real.  Out there my mother's blood hounds wait. 
      They want revenge.

CHORUS LEADER
                                              Your hands are still blood stained—
      that's made your mind disordered.

ORESTES
                                                                Lord Apollo!  
       1320
      They come at me!  Hordes of them! Their eyes
      drip blood . . . it's horrible!

CHORUS LEADER
                                                  There's just one cure—
      Apollo's touch will cleanse you, set you free
                               [1060]
      of these hallucinations.

ORESTES
                                           You don't see them.  I do.
      They're coming for me.  I have to leave . . . 

[Orestes runs off.  Pylades follows him]

CHORUS LEADER
      Good fortune go with you.  And may god
      watch over you, protect you with his favours.

CHORUS
      The third storm has broken on the palace,
      then run its course across the royal clan.
      First, came the torments of those children
                     1330
      slaughtered for Thyestes' food.  Next came                                 
[1070]
      the suffering of a man, our warrior lord,
      Achaea's king.  And now the third—
      do I call him our saviour or our doom?
      When will all this cease?  When will murder,
      its fury spent, rest at last in sleep?


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