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Electra
431
-^ By the gods
Let mo conjure thee, hear me. If thou dost not,
Too late shall thou repent, when for thy guilt
Evil o'ertako thee. O Chr}'sothemis !
Never, I heg theo, to our father's tomb
Bear thou those offerings ; 'twere a horrid deed
From such a woman. Give 'em to the winds ;
And not the smallest grain escape to reach
That hallawcfd place ; let 'em remain for her,
Safe in the earth tiH she shall meet 'fittTthere^
None but this shameless, tins abandoned woman,
Would e'er with impious oft'rings thus adorn
The tomb of him she murdered./^ By the dead
Thinkst thou such gifts can be with joy received ?
Gifts from that hand which from his mangled corse
435
Severed his lifeless limbs, and on the head
435
Of the poor victim wiped her bloody sword ?
435
I (Madness to think that offerings and ablutions
Could purge such crimes, or wash her stains away;
Never, oh never \J But of this no more.
Instant, my sister, thy devoted hair
With these dishevelled locks and this my zone,
Plain as it is and unadorned, shalt thou
Bear to our father. Wretched offerings these !
Bear them, and suppliant on thy knees implore
him
To smile propitious and assist his children ;
Pray for Orestes, too, tlmt soon with power
He may return, and trample on our foes ;
So shall a fairer tribute one day grace
His honoured tomb, than now we can bestow.
Trust me, my sister, we are still his care —
440
I know we are. S^rom him the vision came,
440
The horrid dream that shook her guilty soul :
440
Now then, I beg thee^be a friend to me,
Be to thyself a friend^ a friend to him
Of all mankind the dearest, our dead father.
-^ By the gods
Let mo conjure thee, hear me. If thou dost not,
Too late shall thou repent, when for thy guilt
Evil o'ertako thee. O Chr}'sothemis !
Never, I heg theo, to our father's tomb
Bear thou those offerings ; 'twere a horrid deed
From such a woman. Give 'em to the winds ;
And not the smallest grain escape to reach
That hallawcfd place ; let 'em remain for her,
Safe in the earth tiH she shall meet 'fittTthere^
None but this shameless, tins abandoned woman,
Would e'er with impious oft'rings thus adorn
The tomb of him she murdered./^ By the dead
Thinkst thou such gifts can be with joy received ?
Gifts from that hand which from his mangled corse
435
Severed his lifeless limbs, and on the head
435
Of the poor victim wiped her bloody sword ?
435
I (Madness to think that offerings and ablutions
Could purge such crimes, or wash her stains away;
Never, oh never \J But of this no more.
Instant, my sister, thy devoted hair
With these dishevelled locks and this my zone,
Plain as it is and unadorned, shalt thou
Bear to our father. Wretched offerings these !
Bear them, and suppliant on thy knees implore
him
To smile propitious and assist his children ;
Pray for Orestes, too, tlmt soon with power
He may return, and trample on our foes ;
So shall a fairer tribute one day grace
His honoured tomb, than now we can bestow.
Trust me, my sister, we are still his care —
440
I know we are. S^rom him the vision came,
440
The horrid dream that shook her guilty soul :
440
Now then, I beg thee^be a friend to me,
Be to thyself a friend^ a friend to him
Of all mankind the dearest, our dead father.
Electra. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.