Electra
ELECTRA, CHORUS.
Did this unnatural mother show one sign
Of grief or pity? Did she shed a tear?
Or once lament a son by such a fate
Cut off? She left us with a smile of joy.
My dear Orestes, how hast thou destroy'd
Thy poor unhappy sister by thy death!
Thou hast torn from me the fond hope, which cheer'd
Alone my sinking mind, that thou wouldst live,
Live to avenge my father's death, and me,
Unhappy me. Now whither shall I go?
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Now I am left alone; deprived of thee,
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And of my father, I must be again
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A slave to those whom most my soul abhors,
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The murderers of my father. Is this well?
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But never from this moment will I deign
To dwell with them: no, stretch'd before this gate,
Unfriended, I will pine my life away :
And let them kill me, if this gives offence
To those who here are lords: death were a grace,
And life a grief: I have no wish to live.
Electra. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.