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Electra
1126
[taking the Urn]. O ye dear remains
Of my Orestes, the most loved of men !
How do I see thee now ! How much unlike
What my fond hopes presaged, when List we parted l
I sent thee forth with all the bloom of youth
Fresh on thy cheek, and now, O dismal change !
I bear thee in these hands an empty shade.
Would I had died ere X had sent thee hence,
Ere I had saved tliee from the tyrant's hand !
Would thou liadst died thyself that dreadful day,
And joined thy murdered father in the tomb,
Rather than thus a wretched exile fallen,
1130
Far from thy sister, in a foreign land I
1130
I was not there with pious hands to wash
Thy breathless corpse, or from the greedy flame
To gather up thy ashes. What have all
My pleasing toils, my fruitless cares availed,
E'en from thy infant years, that as a mother
I watched thee still, and as a mother loved ?
I would not trust thee to a servant's hand.
But was myself the guardian of thy youth,
Thy dear companion. All is gone with thee !
Alas ! thy death, like the devouring storm,
Hath borne down all. Thy father is no more,
And thou art gone, and I am going too.
1135
Our foes rejoice. Our mother, mad with joy,
1135
Smiles at our miseries — that unnatural mother,
She whom thou oft hast promised to destroy.
But cruel fate hath blasted all my hopes,
And for my dear Orestes left me naught
But this poor shadow. Oh ! th' accursed place
Where I had sent thee ! Oh ! my hapless brother,
Oh ! take me to thee ! Let this urn enclose
My ashes too, and dust to dust be joined,
That we may dwell together once again :
In life united by one hapless fate,
I would not wish in death to be divided.
1140
The dead are free from sorrows.
1140
Do not indulge thy griefs ; but, oh ! remember,
1140
Sprung from a mortal like thyself, Orestes
Was mortal too — that we are mortal all.
[taking the Urn]. O ye dear remains
Of my Orestes, the most loved of men !
How do I see thee now ! How much unlike
What my fond hopes presaged, when List we parted l
I sent thee forth with all the bloom of youth
Fresh on thy cheek, and now, O dismal change !
I bear thee in these hands an empty shade.
Would I had died ere X had sent thee hence,
Ere I had saved tliee from the tyrant's hand !
Would thou liadst died thyself that dreadful day,
And joined thy murdered father in the tomb,
Rather than thus a wretched exile fallen,
1130
Far from thy sister, in a foreign land I
1130
I was not there with pious hands to wash
Thy breathless corpse, or from the greedy flame
To gather up thy ashes. What have all
My pleasing toils, my fruitless cares availed,
E'en from thy infant years, that as a mother
I watched thee still, and as a mother loved ?
I would not trust thee to a servant's hand.
But was myself the guardian of thy youth,
Thy dear companion. All is gone with thee !
Alas ! thy death, like the devouring storm,
Hath borne down all. Thy father is no more,
And thou art gone, and I am going too.
1135
Our foes rejoice. Our mother, mad with joy,
1135
Smiles at our miseries — that unnatural mother,
She whom thou oft hast promised to destroy.
But cruel fate hath blasted all my hopes,
And for my dear Orestes left me naught
But this poor shadow. Oh ! th' accursed place
Where I had sent thee ! Oh ! my hapless brother,
Oh ! take me to thee ! Let this urn enclose
My ashes too, and dust to dust be joined,
That we may dwell together once again :
In life united by one hapless fate,
I would not wish in death to be divided.
1140
The dead are free from sorrows.
1140
Do not indulge thy griefs ; but, oh ! remember,
1140
Sprung from a mortal like thyself, Orestes
Was mortal too — that we are mortal all.
Electra. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.