Chorus
This is the voice of rumour, that she saw
Thine and my father, to the light return'd,
Once more her husband; in the earth he fix'd
The sceptre of his ancestors, which once
He bore, but now Ægisthus; from its top
Sprouted a vigorous branch, and spread its shade
Wide o'er Mycenæ and its ample realms...
This from one present, when she told her dream
To the bright Sun, I heard. No more than this
I know, but that she sent me to the tomb
Struck with this fear. Now by our country's gods
I pray thee, be persuaded; do not rush、
On ruin through perverseness: shou'dst thou now
Reject me, thou wilt seek me in thy ills.
Electra. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.