CHORUS.

Venerable Night,

O thou who giv'st sweet sleep to man with toils
Exhausted, borne on sable pinions, come
From Erebus to Agamemnon's house,
For, by calamity and grief o'erwhelm'd,
We sink to rise no more.

No.

ELECTRA.

Ye are too loud,

CHORUS.

ELECTRA.

Leave the couch in silence; O refrain Your tongues, and grant him the calm joys of sleep.

CHORUS.

Say what will be the period of his woes?

Apollo was the author of our ruin,

When he pronounc'd that blood demanded blood,
That she who slew our Father should be slain.

CHORUS.

Tho' justice urg'd, yet from her Children's hands Foul was the blow.

ELECTRA.

My Mother, thou didst smite,

Didst perish; but my Father, and the race
Sprung from thy womb, e'en us, hast thou involv'd
Deep in perdition; we are like the dead:

For while thou dwell'st amid the shades beneath,
I, more than half my life, in groans, in plaints,
And midnight tears, consume; unwedded, childless,

Torn with afflictions which can never end,
I thus drag out the remnant of my days.

CHORUS.

Approach, take heed, Electra, lest death steal
Upon thy Brother ere thou art aware,
For this long intermission of his frenzy

I like not.

ORESTES, (waking.)

Sleep, thou med'cine, who reliev'st Every disease, how sweetly didst thou come To visit me, e'en on that hour when most Thy help I needed; venerable oblivion. Of misery, how art thou endued with wisdom, Benignant Goddess, whom each wretch adores! But whence, or by what means did I come hither? For I have lost my reason, and forget

All that has pass'd.

ELECTRA.

Dear Brother, with what joy

Have I beheld thee sleep!- Shall I support

Thy feeble body?

ORESTES.

Lend your pious hand,

Wipe off that foam which loads my clammy mouth, And on these eye-lids hangs.

ELECTRA.

Lo, I perform

The grateful service, and am nothing loth
To tend my Brother with a Sister's care.

ORESTES.

Permit me on that arm awhile to lean, And from my face remove the clotted hair, For it obstructs my sight.

ELECTRA.

How are the ringlets

Of this thy miserable head defil'd,
From being long unwash'd!

ORESTES.

Upon the bed

Lay me again; soon as the frenzy leaves me

I droop unnerv'd, and feel each limb grow weak.

See how the couch

A thing we love not,

ELECTRA.

to the sick man is welcome,

but which oft we need.

ORESTES.

Stretch forth again and raise me from the couch.

CHORUS.

The sick thro' listlessness are hard to please.

ELECTRA.

Wilt thou not set thy foot upon the ground After so long an interval? In all things

Variety affords delight.

ORESTES.

Most gladly:

For this appears like health, and to seem well,
E'en tho' we are not, is of some advantage.

ELECTRA.

Now, O my Brother, to my voice attend, While yet thou by the Furies art allow'd Thy senses to retain.

ORESTES.

Is there aught new

You would disclose to me? if it be good,
You will rejoice me; but if fraught with ill,
Already I've enough to make me wretched.

ELECTRA.

Thy Uncle Menelaus is arrived;

In Nauplia's haven lies his anchor'd fleet.

ORESTES.

What say you? With auspicious beams of light,

The cloud of our afflictions to dispell,

Comes he our kinsman, he who by the ties

Of gratitude was to our Father bound?

ELECTRA.

He comes, indeed; believe me, when I add, Helen accompanies his march from Troy.

ORESTES.

Had he been sav'd alone, he had been happier; But, if he bring his Consort, he comes laden With no small mischief.

ELECTRA.

Tyndarus hath begotten

A race of Daughters, by their shame distinguish'd,
And infamous thro' Greece.

ORESTES.

Now be it yours,

(For surely it is possible,) to act

A widely different part from those vile women;
Nor let your virtue be to words alone

Confin'd, but deeply rooted in the heart.

ELECTRA.

My Brother, how those eye-balls roll! sure thou,
Who but this moment wert in thy right mind,
Art suddenly grown frantic.

ORESTES.

O, my Mother,

Forbear to rouse against me, I beseech,

Those blood-stain'd Virgins arm'd with hissing snakes; See, see they leap upon my couch.

ELECTRA.

Poor wretch,

Lie still; these visions are but fancy's coinage.

ORESTES.

Me, mighty Phoebus, with their dog-ey'd glare,
Frowning askance, those Priestesses of Hell,
E'en those terrific Goddesses, would murder,

ELECTRA.

I will not loose, but hold thee with firm hand, Lest hence with inauspicious rage thou spring.

ORESTES.

Let me alone; one of my Furies too

- Are you

who grasp me round the waist, beneath The yawning depth of Tartarus to plunge me.

ELECTRA.

Ah, wretched me! what aid can I obtain When Heaven itself's against us?

ORESTES.

Reach my bow,

The present of Apollo, who ordain'd

I with this sounding weapon should repell
Those direful Goddesses whene'er they came
To scare me into madness.

ELECTRA.

Can a God

By human arm be wounded?

ORESTES.

From my sight

Unless they vanish. Heard ye the loud twang? Behold ye not the winged arrows sped

With force unerring from a distant bow?

But, ah! what means this strange delay? Ascend
Th' etherial fields, on rapid pinions borne,
And charge Apollo's oracles with guilt.
Why droop my spirits? wherefore do my lungs.
Retain no power of breathing? from the couch.
Ah, whither have I wander'd? But again
The storm I see subsides, and all is calm.
My Sister, covering with a veil your head,
Why do you weep? It shames me to involve
In my calamities a guiltless maid.
My woes bewail no longer you indeed
Approv'd the project, but 'twas I that slew
My Mother, tho' the guilt I charge on Phoebus,
Who, after he had urg'd me to commit
An action the most impious, with vain words,
Not in effect, consol'd me. For my Sire,