 | Clytemnestra |  |
SCENE V.
ELECTRA.O ye dread deities, this work is yours!
It is my wretched mother, and Egysthus,
Sent helpless here for their own sacrifice;
With all the train of pliant priests that gave
A guilty acquiescence to their sin.
Alas! alas! with what despairing looks,
She frequent turns, and eyes the blacken'd sun:
Herself too chang'd from all imperial show.
| Clytemnestra | |