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Electra
947
Hear then the solemn purpoi-t of my soul.
Tliou knowst too well how friendless and forlorn
We both are left, by death bereaved of all
Who could support us. Whilst Orestes lived,
I cherished flattering thoughts of sweet revenge ;
But he is gone, and thou ai-t now my hope.
Yes, thou must join (for I will tell thee all)
To kill the murderer. Why should we delay ?
Is aught of comfort left ? Thou canst but weep
Thy ravished foi-tunes torn unjustly from thee ;
Thou canst but mourn thy loss of nuptial rites,
And each domestic bliss. For, O my sister !
The tyrant cannot be so weak of soul
As e'er to suffer our detested race
To send new branches forth for his destruction.
Assist me then. So shalt thou best deserve
A father's praises and a brother's love ;
So shalt thou still, as thou wert born, be free,
And gain a partner worthy of thy bed.
Dost thou not hear th' applauding voice of fame,
950
And every tongue conspire to praise the deed ?
950
Will they not mark us as we pass along,
950
And cry aloud, *' Behold the noble pair !
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The pious sisters who preserved their race,
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Whose daring souls, unawed by danger, sought
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The tyrant's life, regardless of their own.
What love to these, what reverence is due !
These shall th' assembled nation throng to praise,
And every feast with public honours crown.
The fit reward of more than female virtue."
Thus will they talk, my sister, whilst we live,
And after death our names sliall be immortal.
Aid then a brother's, aid a sister's cause.
Think on thy father's wrongs, preserve Electra,
Preserve thyself ; and, oh ! remember well
That to the noble mind a life dishonoured
Is infamy and shame.
Hear then the solemn purpoi-t of my soul.
Tliou knowst too well how friendless and forlorn
We both are left, by death bereaved of all
Who could support us. Whilst Orestes lived,
I cherished flattering thoughts of sweet revenge ;
But he is gone, and thou ai-t now my hope.
Yes, thou must join (for I will tell thee all)
To kill the murderer. Why should we delay ?
Is aught of comfort left ? Thou canst but weep
Thy ravished foi-tunes torn unjustly from thee ;
Thou canst but mourn thy loss of nuptial rites,
And each domestic bliss. For, O my sister !
The tyrant cannot be so weak of soul
As e'er to suffer our detested race
To send new branches forth for his destruction.
Assist me then. So shalt thou best deserve
A father's praises and a brother's love ;
So shalt thou still, as thou wert born, be free,
And gain a partner worthy of thy bed.
Dost thou not hear th' applauding voice of fame,
950
And every tongue conspire to praise the deed ?
950
Will they not mark us as we pass along,
950
And cry aloud, *' Behold the noble pair !
950
The pious sisters who preserved their race,
950
Whose daring souls, unawed by danger, sought
950
The tyrant's life, regardless of their own.
What love to these, what reverence is due !
These shall th' assembled nation throng to praise,
And every feast with public honours crown.
The fit reward of more than female virtue."
Thus will they talk, my sister, whilst we live,
And after death our names sliall be immortal.
Aid then a brother's, aid a sister's cause.
Think on thy father's wrongs, preserve Electra,
Preserve thyself ; and, oh ! remember well
That to the noble mind a life dishonoured
Is infamy and shame.
Electra. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.