Loved Pylades, demands your firm resolves :
This hour determine; for the early songs
Of birds call forth the sun's resplendent beams,
And the stars vanish from the dusky night.
Now, ere the foot of man from forth the gates
Shall tread the streets, consult: for from this hour
Th' important time to instant action calls.
O thou most loved of servants, strong the proofs
Thou givest me of thy goodness and firm faith:
For as the generous steed e'en in old age
Of his high courage in the fierce alarm
Abates not, but with pride sustains the charge,
So dost thou urge me forward, and advance
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E'en in the front of danger: for this cause
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I will unfold my counsels to my words
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Give thou attentive heed, and where I judge
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Amiss,, thy riper prudence be my guide.
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When to the fate-foretelling shrine I came
Of Pytho, and inquired by what best way
I on his impious murderers might avenge
My father's blood, this answer Phœbus gave,
" In arms advance not, nor with martial force,
"But steal upon them, and with fraudful hand
"Let thy just fury strike th' avenging blow.""
These mandates known, as time and chance present
A fair occasion, enter thou this house,
And learn what passes there; me much imports
Clear information; thee they will not know
Absent so long, and chang'd by hoary age;
Nor thus attired suspicion wilt thou wake.
Thou art a stranger, so address thy tale,
Of Phocis, sent by Phanoteus, now join'd
In close alliance with them; say, and add
The sanction of an oath, that by the force
Of ruthless fate Orestes is no more,
Hurl'd from his chariot in the Pythian games.
This be the purport of thy tale. Mean time,
Obedient to the god, my father's tomb
We with libations and these sever'd locks.
Will honour. Thence returning, in our hands
The brazen sculptured urn, now, as thou know'st,
Hid in the tangled thicket, we will bring;
That we may thus deceive them with a tale
To them most grateful, that my wretched corse
Already on the funeral pile is burnt,
And my cold ashes in this urn enclosed.
Why should this grieve me, that in words I die,
When I in deed am saved, and by them raised
To glory? Nor ill-omen'd shall I deem
A word which gives the promise of success.
Oft e'en the wise have I observed, by fame:
Reported dead, return, and rise again...!!
To higher honour. Such shall be my boast,
I from this rumour shall be found alive,
And, like a star, to my astonish'd foes
Yet shine. But, O my country, and ye gods
The guardians of my country, to your care
Receive me, and protect me in these ways!
And thou, my father's house! for I am come
With vengeance, at the impulse of the gods,
To purge thy stain away: send me not hence
Dishonour'd, but to wealth, to greatness raised,
Give me thy ancient glories to restore !
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Of this enough. Be it thy care, old man,
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The part assign'd thee to discharge. We two
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Must leave thee now; th' occasion so requires,
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Whose sovereign power o'er ev'ry work presides.
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