 | Electra |  |
92
SCENE THE SIXTH.
ORESTES, and ELECTRA, with a lighted torch one hand and a drawn sword in the other.ELECTRA.
Take this sword—
[He takes the sword and torch.
And seize the happy minute for escape.
ORESTES.
Amazement!—Whence this providential turn?
Thy dress is all disorder'd! and thy face
Full of affright and horror!—What has happen'd?
ELECTRA.
I want the breath to give it utt'rance.—Lycon—
With ruffian violence, assail'd my honour.
At first with soothing vows he sought to conquer—
Till finding they were fruitless—he then menac'd.
But impotent alike in that attempt—
His last essay was force!—I trembled—shriek'd—
And call'd on all the host of heav'n to aid me!
Till in the struggle—sure some pitying God
Inspir'd the thought—I sudden drew his sword,
And plung'd it thro' his heart. He backward sprung
Upon the pavement!—roll'd his ghastly eyes—
Blasphem'd, and curst—'till, with a dreadful roar
Of mingled rage and pain, his furious soul
Broke from the quiv'ring flesh!
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All gracious pow'rs!
The work was yours.
ELECTRA.
I seiz'd that friendly torch,
And found the key that gave him ent'rance. Soon
I try'd it on your cell—for I remark'd
Where they dispos'd you when they brought us hither—
And found, transported, 'twas a passport to you.
O, my Orestes, how I bless the Gods,
That I once more am made their instrument
To save your precious life. But haste we hence,
And thro' yon vaulted mazes—dreary scenes—
Trace out our path to safety.
[A confused noise behind.
ORESTES.
Hah!—What noise?
ELECTRA.
O my distracting fears! Some new arrest!
Ruin pursues us on too sure a scent.
ORESTES.
The sounds increase! Whatever the event,
We cannot shun it.
ELECTRA.
Grudging destiny!
Was all you could afford this short-liv'd hope?
Alas, my brother, what my arm has done
Will nothing stead thee now. Howe'er, at least
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That we shall die together.
ORESTES.
Here I'll stand
To intercept all danger on its way—
And guard, while I have pow'r to wield a sword,
My dear Electra's life.
ELECTRA.
See! they approach!
Hear you their clashing weapons?
ORESTES.
Keep behind me.
How fearful are the gleams of flashing light,
Which from their tapers, thro' the bending arches,
Stream onward broken glares!
ELECTRA.
Now—now they come!
ORESTES.
Pray be compos'd. Your terrors more depress
A heart that bleeds—astonishment!—my friend?
| Electra | |