University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Electra.
Elec.
Oh fatal, horrible, atrocious night,
Oh night, for ever present to my thoughts!
Now, for two lustres, every year, I've witness'd,
Pall'd in ensanguined darkness, thy return;
Yet, 'tis not shed, the expiatory blood,
The blood that thou requirest. Oh remembrance!
Oh Agamemnon, oh my wretched father!
Within these thresholds I beheld thee slain;
And by what hand? To his most sacred tomb,
Oh night, thou guidest me, by all unseen;
Except, indeed, that, ere to-morrow dawn,
Ægisthus do not come to interrupt
The tears, which I disconsolately bring
In annual tribute to his sacred ashes!
The only tribute which I now can give thee
Of past affection, and the only pledge
Of hope, not yet quite banish'd from my bosom,
Of possible revenge. Ah! yes: I swear,
If yet I live in Argos, in this palace,
Near a flagitious mother, and the slave
Of an Ægisthus, it is that revenge,
That possible revenge, and nothing else,
That gives me strength t'endure the life I lead.
Orestes yet, though far from Argos, lives.
'Twas I that saved thee, brother; and for thee
I save myself, until the day arise,
When thou shalt shed upon my father's tomb,
Not tears, but life-blood of an enemy.