(Robert Fagles Translation)
TIME AND SCENE: Several years
have passed since Agamemnon's death.
At Argos, before the tomb of the king
and his fathers, stands an altar; behind
it looms the house of Atreus.
ORESTES and PYLADES enter,
dressed as travellers. ORESTES kneels
and prays.
ORESTES:
Hermes, lord of the dead, look down and guard
the fathers' power. Be my saviour, I beg you,
be my comrade now.
I have come home
to my own soil, an exile home at last.
Here at the mounded grave I call my father, 5
Hear me-- I am crying out to you...
He cuts two locks of hair and lays
them on the grave.
There is a lock for Inachos who nursed me
into manhood, there is one for death.
I was not here to mourn you when you died,
my father, never gave the last salute 10
when they bore your corpse away.
ELECTRA and a chorus of slave-
women enter in procession. They are
dressed in black and bear libations,
moving towards ORESTES at the grave.
What's this?
Look, a company moving towards us. Women,
robed in black... so clear in the early light.
I wonder what they mean, what turn of fate?--
some new wound to the house? 15
Or perhaps they come to honour you, my father,
bearing cups to soothe and still the dead.
That's right, it must be .
Electra, I think I see her coming, there,
my own sister, worn, radiant in her grief-- 20
Dear god, let me avenge my father's murder--
fight beside me now with all your might!
Out of their way, Pylades. I must know
what they mean, these women turning towards us,
what their prayers call forth. 25
They withdraw behind the tomb.
CHORUS :
Rushed from the house we come
escorting cups for the dead,
in step with the hands' hard beat,
our cheeks glistening,
flushed where the nails have raked new furrows running blood; 30
and life beats on, and
we nurse our lives with tears,
to the sound of ripping linen beat our robes in sorrow,
close to the breast the beats throb
and laughter's gone and fortune throbs and throbs. 35
Aie!-- bristling Terror struck--
the seer of the house,
the nightmare ringing clear
breathed its wrath in sleep,
in the midnight watch a cry!-- the voice of Terror 40
deep in the house, bursting down
on the women's darkened chambers, yes,
and the old ones, skilled at dreams, swore oaths to god
and called,
`The proud dead stir under earth,
they rage against the ones who took their lives.' 45
But the gifts, the empty gifts
she hopes will ward them off--
good Mother Earth!-- that godless woman sends me here...
I dread to say her prayer.
What can redeem the blood that wets the soil? 50
Oh for the hearthfire banked with grief,
the rampart's down, a fine house down--
dark, dark, and the sun, the life is curst,
and mist enshrouds the halls
where the lords of war went down. 55
And the ancient pride no war,
no storm, no force could tame,
ringing in all men's ears, in all men's hearts is gone.
They are afraid. Success,
they bow to success, more god than god himself. 60
But Justice waits and turns the scales:
a sudden blow for some at dawn,
for some in the no man's land of dusk
her torments grow with time,
and the lethal night takes others. 65
And the blood that Mother Earth consumes
clots hard, it won't seep through, it breeds revenge
and frenzy goes through the guilty,
seething like infection, swarming through the brain.
For the one who treads a virgin's bed 70
there is no cure. All the streams of the world,
all channels run into one
to cleanse a man's red hands will swell the bloody tide.
And I . . . Fate and the gods brought down their yoke,
they ringed our city, out of our fathers' halls 75
they led us here as slaves.
And the will breaks, we kneel at their command--
our masters right or wrong!
And we beat the tearing hatred down,
behind our veils we weep for her, 80
Turning to ELECTRA.
her senseless fate.
Sorrow turns the secret heart to ice.
ELECTRA:
Dear women,
you keep the house in order, best you can;
and now you've come to the grave to say a prayer
with me, my escorts. I'll need your help with this. 85
What to say when I pour the cup of sorrow?
Lifting her libation cup.
What kindness, what prayer can touch my father?
Shall I say I bring him love for love, a woman's
love for husband? My mother, love from her?
I've no taste for that, no words to say 90
as I run the honeyed oil on father's tomb.
Or try the salute we often use at graves?
`A wreath for a wreath. Now bring the givers
gifts to match' . . . no, give them pain for pain.
Or silent, dishonoured, just as father died, 95
empty it out for the soil to drink and then
retrace my steps, like a slave sent out with scourings
left from the purging of the halls, and throw
the cup behind me, looking straight ahead.
Help me decide, my friends. Join me here. 100
We nurse a common hatred in the house.
Don't hide your feelings - no, fear no one.
Destiny waits us all,
Looking towards the tomb.
born free,
or slaves who labour under another's hand.
Speak to me, please. Perhaps you've had 105
a glimpse of something better.
LEADER:
I revere
your father's death-mound like an altar.
I'll say a word, now that you ask,
that comes from deep within me.
ELECTRA:
Speak on,
with everything you feel for father's grave. 110
LEADER:
Say a blessing as you pour, for those who love you.
ELECTRA:
And of the loved ones, whom to call my friends?
LEADER:
First yourself, then all who hate Aegisthus.
ELECTRA:
I and you. I can say a prayer for us
and then for--
LEADER:
You know, try to say it. 115
ELECTRA:
There is someone else to rally to our side?
LEADER:
Remember Orestes, even abroad and gone.
ELECTRA:
Well said, the best advice I've had.
LEADER:
Now for the murderers. Remember them and--
ELECTRA:
What?
I'm so unseasoned, teach me what to say. 120
LEADER:
Let some god or man come down upon them.
ELECTRA:
Judge or avenger, which?
LEADER:
Just say 'the one who murders in return!'
ELECTRA:
How can I ask the gods for that
and keep my conscience clear?
LEADER:
How not, 125
and pay the enemy back in kind?
ELECTRA kneels at the grave in prayer.
ELECTRA:
--Herald king
of the world above and the quiet world below,
lord of the dead, my Hermes, help me now.
Tell the spirits underground to hear my prayers,
and the high watch hovering over father's roofs, 130
and have her listen too, the Earth herself
who brings all things to life and makes them strong,
then gathers in the rising tide once more.
And I will tip libations to the dead.
I call out to my father. Pity me, 135
dear Orestes too.
Rekindle the light that saves our house!
We're auctioned off; drift like vagrants now.
Mother has pawned us for a husband, Aegisthus,
her partner in her murdering.
I go like a slave, 140
and Orestes driven from his estates while they,
they roll in the fruits of all your labours,
magnificent and sleek. O bring Orestes home,
with a happy twist of fate, my father. Hear me,
make me far more self-possessed than mother, 145
make this hand more pure.
These prayers for us. For our enemies I say,
Raise up your avenger, into the light, my father--
kill the killers in return, with justice!
So in the midst of prayers for good I place 150
this curse for them.
Bring up your blessings,
up into the air, led by the gods and Earth
and all the rights that bring us triumph.
Pouring libations on the tomb and
turning to the women.
These are my prayers. Over them I pour libations.
Yours to adorn them with laments, to make them bloom, 155
so custom says - sing out and praise the dead.
CHORUS:
Let the tears fall, ring out and die,
die with the warlord at this bank,
this bulwark of the good, defence against the bad,
the guilt, the curse we ward away 160
with prayer and all we pour. Hear me, majesty, hear me,
lord of glory, from the darkness of your heart.
Ohhhhhh! -
Dear god, let him come! Some man
with a strong spear, born to free the house,
with the torsion bow of Scythia bent for slaughter, 165
splattering shafts like a god of war - sword in fist
for the slash-and-hack of battle !
ELECTRA remains at the grave, staring at the
ground.
ELECTRA:
Father,
you have it now, the earth has drunk your wine.
Wait, friends, here's news. Come share it.
LEADER:
Speak on,
my heart's a dance of fear.
ELECTRA:
A lock of hair, 170
here on the grave...
LEADER:
Whose? A man's?
A growing girl's?
ELECTRA:
And it has the marks,
and anyone would think -
LEADER:
What?
We're old. You're young, now you teach us.
ELECTRA:
No one could have cut this lock but I and - 175
LEADER:
Callous they are, the ones who ought to shear
the hair and mourn.
ELECTRA:
Look at the texture, just like -
LEADER:
Whose? I want to know.
ELECTRA:
Like mine, identical,
can't you see?
LEADER:
Orestes... he brought a gift
in secret?
ELECTRA:
It's his--I can see his curls. 18O
LEADER:
And how could he risk the journey here?
ELECTRA:
He sent it, true, a lock to honour father.
LEADER:
All the more cause for tears. You mean
he'll never set foot on native ground again.
ELECTRA:
Yes!
It's sweeping over me too-- anguish like a breaker-- 185
a sword ripping through my heart!
Tears come like the winter rains that flood the gates--
can't hold them back, when I see this lock of hair.
How could I think another Greek could play
the prince with this?
She'd never cut it, 190
the murderess, my mother. She insults the name,
she and her godless spirit preying on her children.
But how, how can I come right out and say it is
the glory of the dearest man I know-- Orestes?
Stop, I'm fawning on hope.
Oh, if only 195
it had a herald's voice, kind and human--
I'm so shaken, torn-- and told me clearly
to throw it away, they severed it from a head
that I detest. Or it could sorrow with me
like a brother, aye, 200
this splendour come to honour father's grave.
We call on the gods, and the gods well know
what storms torment us, sailors whirled to nothing.
But if we are to live and reach the haven,
one small seed could grow a mighty tree-- 205
Look, tracks.
A new sign to tell us more.
Footmarks . . . pairs of them, like mine.
Two outlines, two prints, his own, and there,
a fellow traveller's.
Putting her foot into ORESTES' print.
The heel, the curve of the arch
like twins.
While ORESTES emerges from behind
the grave, she follows cautiously in his
steps until they come together.
Step by step, my step in his .
we meet-- 210
Oh the pain, like pangs of labour-- this is madness!
ORESTES:
Pray for the future. Tell the gods they've brought
your prayers to birth, and pray that we succeed.
ELECTRA draws back, struggling for composure.
ELECTRA:
The gods-- why now? What have I ever won from them?
ORESTES:
The sight you prayed to see for many years. 215
PLECTRA:
And you know the one I call?
ORESTES:
I know Orestes,
know he moves you deeply.
ELECTRA:
Yes,
but now what's come to fill my prayers?
ORESTES:
Here I am. Look no further.
No one loves you more than I.
ELECTRA:
No, 220
it's a trap, stranger... a net you tie around me?
ORESTES:
Then I tie myself as well.
ELECTRA:
But the pain,
you're laughing at all -
ORESTES:
Your pain is mine.
If I laugh at yours, I only laugh at mine.
ELECTRA:
Orestes--
can I call you?-- are you really-- 225
ORESTES:
I am !
Open your eyes. So slow to learn.
You saw the lock of hair I cut in mourning.
You scanned my tracks, you could see my marks,
your breath leapt, you all but saw me in the flesh-- 230
Look--
Holding the lock to his temple, then
to ELECTRA'S.
put it where I cut it.
It's your brother's. Try, it matches yours.
Removing a strip of weaving from his
clothing.
Work of your own hand, you tamped the loom,
look, there are wild creatures in the weaving.
She kneels beside him, weeping; he
lifts her to her feet and they embrace.
No, no control yourself-- don't lose yourself in joy! 235
Our loved ones, well I know, would slit our throats.
LEADER:
Dearest, the darling of your father's house,
hope of the seed we nursed with tears--you save us.
Trust to your power, win your father's house once more!
ELECTRA:
You light to my eyes, four loves in one! 240
I have to call you father, it is fate;
and I turn to you the love I gave my mother--
I despise her, she deserves it, yes,
and the love I gave my sister, sacrificed
on the cruel sword, I turn to you. 245
You were my faith, my brother--
you alone restore my self-respect.
Praying.
Power and Justice, Saving Zeus, Third Zeus,
almighty all in all, be with us now
ORESTES:
Zeus, Zeus, watch over all we do, 250
fledglings reft of the noble eagle father.
He died in the coils, the viper's dark embrace,
We are his orphans worn down with hunger,
weak, too young to haul the father's quarry
home to shelter.
Look down on us! 255
I and Electra, too, I tell you, children
robbed of our father, both of us bound
in exile from our house.
And what a father --
a priest at sacrifice, he showered you
with honours. Put an end to his nestlings now 260
and who will serve you banquets rich as his?
Destroy the eagle's brood, you can never
send a sign that wins all men's belief.
Rot the stock of a proud dynastic tree--
it can never shore your altar steaming 265
with the oxen in the mornings. Tend us--
we seem in ruins now, I know. Up from nothing
rear a house to greatness.
LEADER:
Softly, children,
white hopes of your father's hearth. Someone
might hear you, children, charmed with his own voice 270
blurt all this out to the masters. Oh, just once
to see them -- live bones crackling in the fire
spitting pitch!
ORESTES:
Apollo will never fail me, no,
his tremendous power, his oracle charges me
to see this trial through.
I can still hear the god -- 275
a high voice ringing with winters of disaster,
piercing the heart within me, warm and strong,
unless I hunt my father's murderers, cut them down
in their own style-- they destroyed my birthright.
`Gore them like a bull I ' he called, 'or pay their debt 280
with your own life, one long career of grief'
He revealed so much about us,
told how the dead take root beneath the soil,
they grow with hate and plague the lives of men.
He told of the leprous boils that ride the flesh, 285
their wild teeth gnawing the mother tissue, aye,
and a white scurf spreads like cancer over these,
and worse, he told how assaults of Furies spring
to life on the father's blood...
You can see them --
the eyes burning, grim brows working over you in the dark-- 290
the dark sword of the dead! -- your murdered kinsmen
pleading for revenge. And the madness haunts
the midnight watch, the empty terror shakes you,
harries, drives you on -- an exile from your city --
a brazen whip will mutilate your back. 295
For such as us, no share in the wine-bowl,
no libations poured in love. You never see
your father's wrath but it pulls you from the altars.
There is no refuge, none to take you in.
A pariah, reviled, at long last you die, 300
withered in the grip of all this dying.
Such oracles are persuasive, don't you think?
And even if I am not convinced,
the rough work of the world is still to do.
So many yearnings meet and urge me on. 305
The god's commands. Mounting sorrow for father.
Besides, the lack of patrimony presses hard;
and my compatriots, the glory of men
who toppled Troy with nerves of singing steel,
go at the beck and call of a brace of women. 310
Womanhearted he is -- if not, we'll soon see.
The leader lights the altar fires.
ORESTES, ELECTRA and the chorus
gather for the invocation at the grave.
CHORUS:
Powers of destiny, mighty queens of Fate!--
by the will of Zeus your will be done,
press on to the end now,
Justice turns the wheel. 315
`Word for word, curse for curse
be born now,' Justice thunders,
hungry for retribution,
`stroke for bloody stroke be paid.
The one who acts must suffer.' 320
Three generations strong the word resounds.
ORESTES:
Dear father, father of dread,
what can I do or say to reach you now?
What breath can reach from here
to the bank where you lie moored at anchor? 325
What light can match your darkness? None,
but there is a kind of grace that comes
when the tears revive a proud old house
and Atreus' sons, the warlords lost and gone.
LEADER:
The ruthless jaws of the fire, 330
my child, can never tame the dead,
his rage inflames his sons.
Men die and the voices rise, they light the guilty, true--
cries raised for the fathers, clear and just,
will hunt their killers harried to the end. 335
ELECTRA:
Then hear me now, my father,
it is my turn, my tears are welling now,
as child by child we come
to the tomb and raise the dirge, my father
Your grave receives a girl in prayer 340
and a man in flight, and we are one,
and the pain is equal, whose is worse?
And who outwrestles death--what third last fall?
CHORUS:
But still some god, if he desires,
may work our strains to a song of joy, 345
from the dirges chanted over the grave
may lift a hymn in the kings' halls
and warm the loving cup you stir this morning.
ORESTES:
If only at Troy
a Lycian cut you down, my father -- 350
gone, with an aura left at home behind you,
children to go their ways
and the eyes look on them bright with awe,
and the tomb you win on headlands seas away
would buoy up the house... 355
LEADER:
And loved by the men you loved
who died in glory, there you'd rule
beneath the earth-- lord, prince,
stem aide to the giant kings who judge the shadows there.
You were a king of kings when you drew breath; 360
the mace you held could make men kneel or die.
ELECTRA:
No, not under Troy!--
not dead and gone with them, my father,
hordes pierced by the spear Scamander washes down.
Sooner the killers die 365
as they killed you-- at the hands of friends,
and the news of death would come from far away,
we'd never know this grief.
CHORUS:
You are dreaming, children,
dreams dearer than gold, more blest 370
than the Blest beyond the North Wind's raging.
Dreams are easy, oh,
but the double lash is striking home.
Now our comrades group underground.
Our masters' reeking hands are doomed-- 375
the children take the day!
ORESTES:
That thrills his ear,
that arrow lands!
Zeus, Zeus, force up from the earth
destruction, late but true to the mark, 380
to the reckless heart, the killing hand--
for parents of revenge revenge be done.
LEADER:
And the ripping cries of triumph mine
to sing when the man is stabbed,
the woman dies-- 385
why hide what's deep inside me,
black wings beating, storming the spirit's prow--
hurricane, slashing hatred!
ELECTRA:
Both fists at once
come down, come down--
Zeus, crush their skulls! Kill! kill! 390
Now give the land some faith, I beg you,
from these ancient wrongs bring forth our rights.
Hear me, Earth, and all you lords of death.
CHORUS:
It is the law: when the blood of slaughter
wets the ground it wants more blood. 395
Slaughter cries for the Fury
of those long dead to bring destruction
on destruction churning in its wake!
ORESTES:
Sweet Earth, how long?-- great lords of death, look on,
you mighty curses of the dead. Look on 400
the last of Atreus' children, here, the remnant
helpless, cast from home... god, where to turn?
LEADER:
And again my pulses race and leap,
I can feel your sobs, and hope
becomes despair 405
and the heart goes dark to hear you--
then the anguish ebbs, I see you stronger,
hope and the light come on me.
ELECTRA:
What hope? - what force to summon, what can help?
What but the pain we suffer, bred by her? 410
So let her fawn. She can never soothe her young wolves-
Mother dear, you bred our wolves' raw fury.
LEADER AND CHORUS:
I beat and beat the dirge like a Persian mourner,
hands clenched tight and the blows are coming thick and fast,
you can see the hands shoot out, 415
now hand over hand and down - the head pulsates,
blood at the temples pounding to explode!
ELECTRA:
Reckless, brutal mother - oh dear god! -
The brutal, cruel cortege,
the warlord stripped of his honour guard 420
and stripped of mourning rites -
you dared entomb your lord unwept, unsung.
ORESTES:
Shamed for all the world, you mean -
dear god, my father degraded so !
Oh she'll pay, 425
she'll pay, by the gods and these bare hands -
just let me take her life and die!
LEADER AND CHORUS:
Shamed? Butchered, I tell you - hands lopped,
strung to shackle his neck and arms !
So she worked, 430
she buried him, made your life a hell.
Your father mutilated - do you hear?
ELECTRA:
You tell him of father's death, but I was an outcast,
worthless, leashed like a vicious dog in a dark cell.
I wept-- laughter died that day... 435
I wept, pouring out the tears behind my veils.
Hear that, my brother, carve it on your heart!
LEADER AND CHORUS:
Let it ring in your ears
but let your heart stand firm.
The outrage stands as it stands, 440
you bum to know the end,
but first be strong, be steel, then down and fight.
ORESTES:
I am calling you, my father-- be with all you love!
ELECTRA:
I am with you, calling through my tears.
LEADER AND CHORUS:
We band together now, the call resounds-- 445
hear us now, come back into the light.
Be with us, battle all you hate.
ORESTES:
Now force clash with force-- right with right
ELECTRA:
Dear gods, be just-- win back our rights.
LEADER AND CHORUS:
The flesh crawls to hear them pray. 450
The hour of doom has waited long...
pray for it once, and oh my god, it comes.
CHORUS:
Oh, the torment bred in the race,
the grinding scream of death
and the stroke that hits the vein, 455
the haemorrhage none can staunch, the grief,
the curse no man can bear.
But there is a cure in the house
and not outside it, no,
not from others but from them, 460
their bloody strife. We sing to you,
dark gods beneath the earth.
Now hear, you blissful powers underground --
answer the call, send help.
Bless the children, give them triumph now. 465
They withdraw, while ELECTRA and
ORESTES come to the altar.
ORESTES:
Father, king, no royal death you died--
give me the power now to rule our house.
ELECTRA:
I need you too, my father.
Help me kill her lover, then go free.
ORESTES:
Then men will extend the sacred feast to you. 470
Or else, when the steam and the rich savour burn
for Mother Earth, you will starve for honour.
ELECTRA:
And I will pour my birthright out to you --
the wine of the fathers' house, my bridal wine,
and first of all the shrines revere your tomb. 475
ORESTES:
O Earth, bring father up to watch me fight.
ELECTRA:
O Persephone, give us power - lovely, gorgeous power!
ORESTES:
Remember the bath - they stripped away your life, my father.
ELECTRA:
Remember the all-embracing net - they made it first for you.
ORESTES:
Chained like a beast - chains of hate, not bronze, my father! 480
ELECTRA:
Shamed in the schemes, the hoods they slung around you!
ORESTES:
Does our taunting wake you, oh my father?
ELECTRA:
Do you lift your beloved head?
ORESTES:
Send us justice, fight for all you love,
or help us pin them grip for grip. They threw you - 485
don't you long to throw them down in turn?
ELECTRA:
One last cry, father. Look at your nestlings
stationed at your tomb - pity
your son and daughter. We are all you have.
ORESTES:
Never blot out the seed of Pelops here. 490
Then in the face of death you cannot die.
The LEADER comes forward again.
LEADER:
The voices of children -- salvation to the dead!
Corks to the net, they rescue the linen meshes
from the depths. This line will never drown!
ELECTRA:
Hear us -- the long wail we raise is all for you! 495
Honour our call and you will save yourself.
LEADER:
And a fine thing it is to lengthen out the dirge;
you adore a grave and fate they never mourned.
But now for action -- now you're set on action,
put your stars to proof.
ORESTES:
So we will. 500
One thing first, I think it's on the track.
Why did she send libations? What possessed her,
so late, so salve a wound past healing?
To the unforgiving dead she sends this sop,
this . . . who am I to appreciate her gifts? 505
They fall so short of all her failings. True,
`pour out your all to atone an act of blood,
you work for nothing'. So the saying goes.
I'm ready. Tell me what you know.
LEADER:
I know, my boy,
I was there. She had bad dreams. Some terror 510
came groping through the night, it shook her,
and she sent these cups, unholy woman.
ORESTES:
And you know the dream, you can tell it clearly?
LEADER:
She dreamed she bore a snake, said so herself and...
ORESTES:
Come to the point -- where does the story end? 515
LEADER:
...she swaddled it like a baby, laid it to rest.
ORESTES:
And food, what did the little monster want?
LEADER:
She gave it her breast to suck -- she was dreaming.
ORESTES:
And didn't it tear her nipple, the brute inhuman--
LEADER:
Blood curdled the milk with each sharp tug... 520
ORESTES:
No empty dream. The vision of a man.
LEADER:
. . . and she woke with a scream, appalled,
and rows of torches, burning out of the blind dark,
flared across the halls to soothe the queen,
and then she sent the libations for the dead, 525
an easy cure she hopes will cut the pain.
ORESTES:
No,
I pray to the Earth and father's grave to bring
that dream to life in me. I'll play the seer -
it all fits together, watch!
If the serpent came from the same place as I, 530
and slept in the bands that swaddled me, and its jaws
spread wide for the breast that nursed me into life
and clots stained the milk, mother's milk,
and she cried in fear and agony - so be it.
As she bred this sign, this violent prodigy 535
so she dies by violence. I turn serpent,
I kill her. So the vision says.
LEADER:
You are the seer for me, I like your reading.
Let it come! But now rehearse your friends.
Say do this, or don't do that - 540
ORESTES:
The plan is simple. My sister goes inside.
And I'd have her keep the bond with me a secret.
They killed an honoured man by cunning, so
they die by cunning, caught in the same noose.
So he commands, 545
Apollo the Seer who's never lied before.
And I like a stranger, equipped for all events,
go to the outer gates with this man here,
Pylades, a friend, the house's friend-in-arms.
And we both will speak Parnassian, both try 550
for the native tones of Delphi.
Now, say none
at the doors will give us a royal welcome
(after all the house is ridden by a curse),
well then we wait . . . till a passer-by will stop
and puzzle and make insinuations at the house, 555
`Aegisthus shuts his door on the man who needs him.
Why, I wonder - does he know? Is he home?'
But once through the gates, across the threshold,
once I find that man on my father's throne,
or returning late to meet me face to face, 560
and his eyes shift and fall -
I promise you,
before he can ask me, 'Stranger, who are you?' -
I drop him dead, a thrust of the sword, and twist!
Our Fury never wants for blood. His she drinks unmixed,
our third libation poured to Saving Zeus. 565
Turning to ELECTRA.
Keep a close watch inside, dear, be careful.
We must work together step by step.
To the chorus.
And you,
better hold your tongues, religiously.
Silence, friends, or speak when it will help.
Looking towards PYLADES and the
death-mound and beyond.
For the rest, watch over me, I need you - 570
guide my sword through struggle, guide me home!
As ORESTES, PYLADES and
ELECTRA leave, the women reassemble
for the chorus.
CHORUS:
Marvels, the Earth breeds many marvels,
terrible marvels overwhelm us.
The heaving arms of the sea embrace and swarm
with savage life. And high in the no man's land of night 575
torches hang like swords. The hawk on the wing,
the beast astride the fields
can tell of the whirlwind's fury roaring strong.
Oh but a man's high daring spirit,
who can account for that? Or woman's 580
desperate passion daring past all bounds?
She couples with every form of ruin known to mortals.
Woman, frenzied, driven wild with lust,
twists the dark, warm harness
of wedded love-- tortures man and beast! 585
Well you know, you with a sense of truth
recall Althaia,
the heartless mother
who killed her son,
ai! what a scheme she had-- 590
she rushed his destiny,
lit the bloody torch
preserved from the day he left her loins with a cry--
the life of the torch paced his,
burning on till Fate burned out his life. 595
There is one more in the tales of hate:
remember Scylla,
the girl of slaughter
seduced by foes
to take her father's life. 600
The gift of Minos,
a choker forged in gold
turned her head and Nisos' immortal lock she cut
as he slept away his breath...
ruthless bitch, now Hermes takes her down. 605
Now that I call to mind old wounds that never heal--
Stop, it's time for the wedded love-in-hate,
for the curse of the halls,
the woman's brazen cunning
bent on her lord in arms, 610
her warlord's power--
Do you respect such things?
I prize the hearthstone warmed by faith,
a woman's temper nothing bends to outrage.
First at the head of legendary crime stands Lemnos.
People shudder and moan, and can't forget-- 615
each new horror that comes
we call the hells of Lemnos.
Loathed by the gods for guilt,
cast off by men, disgraced, their line dies out.
Who could respect what god detests? 620
What of these tales have I not picked with justice?
The sword's at the lungs! -- it stabs deep,
the edge cuts through and through
and Justice drives it -- Outrage still lives on,
not trodden to pieces underfoot, not yet, 625
though the laws lie trampled down,
the majesty of Zeus.
The anvil of Justice stands fast
and Fate beats out her sword.
Tempered for glory, a child will wipe clean 630
the inveterate stain of blood shed long ago--
Fury brings him home at last,
the brooding mother Fury!
The women leave. ORESTES and
PYLADES approach the house of .
Atreus.
ORESTES:
Slave, the slave! --
where is he? Hear me pounding the gates?
Is there a man inside the house?
For the third time, come out of the halls !
If Aegisthus has them welcome friendly guests.
A voice from inside.
PORTER:
All right, I hear you...
Where do you come from, stranger? Who are you?
ORESTES:
Announce me to the masters of the house.
I've come for them, I bring them news.
Hurry,
the chariot of the night is rushing on the dark!
The hour falls, the traveller casts his anchor
in an inn where every stranger feels at home.
Come out!
Whoever rules the house. The woman in charge.
No, the man, better that way.
No scruples then. Say what you mean,
man to man launch in and prove your point,
make it clear, strong.
CLYTAEMNESTRA emerges from the
palace, attended by ELECTRA.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Strangers, please,
tell me what you would like and it is yours. 650
We've all you might expect in a house like ours.
We have warm baths and beds to charm away your pains
and the eyes of Justice look on all we do.
But if you come for higher things, affairs--
that touch the state, that is the men's concern 655
and I will stir them on.
ORESTES:
I am a stranger,
from Daulis, close to Delphi, I'd just set out,
packing my own burden bound for Argos
(here I'd put my burden down and rest),
when I met a perfect stranger, out of the blue,
who asks about my way and tells me his.
Strophios,
a Phocian, so I gathered in conversation.
`Well, my friend,' he says, 'out for Argos
in any case? Remember to tell the parents
he is dead, Orestes...
promise me please
(it's only right), it will not slip your mind.
Then whatever his people want, to bring him home
or bury him here, an alien, all outcast here
forever, won't you ferry back their wishes?
As it is, a bronze urn is armour to his embers.
The man's been mourned so well...'
I only tell you
what I heard. And am I speaking now
with guardians, kinsmen who will care?
It's hard to say. But a parent ought to know.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
I, I--your words, you storm us, raze us to the roots,
you curse of the house so hard to wrestle down!
How you range -- targets at peace, miles away,
and a shaft from your lookout brings them down.
You strip me bare of all I love, destroy me,
now -- Orestes.
And he was trained so well, we'd been so careful,
kept his footsteps clear of the quicksand of death.
Just now, the hope of the halls, the surgeon to cure
our Furies' lovely revel -- he seemed so close,
he's written off the rolls.
ORESTES:
If only I were...
my friends, with hosts as fortunate as you
if only I could be known for better news
and welcomed like a brother. The tie between
the host and stranger, what is kinder?
But what an impiety, so it seemed to me,
not to bring this to a head for loved ones.
I was bound by honour, bound by the rights
of hospitality.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Nothing has changed.
For all that you receive what you deserve,
as welcome in these halls as one of us.
Wouldn't another bear the message just as well?
But you must be worn from the long day's journey--
time for your rewards.
To ELECTRA.
Escort him in,
where the men who come are made to feel at home.
He and his retinue, and fellow travellers.
Let them taste the bounty of our house.
Do it, as if you depended on his welfare.
And we will rouse the powers in the house
and share the news. We never lack for loved ones,
we will probe this turn of fortune every way.
ELECTRA leads ORESTES, PYLADES
and their retinue into the halls;
CLYTAEMNESTRA follows, while the
chorus reassembles.
LEADER:
Oh dear friends who serve the house,
when can we speak out, when
can the vigour of our voices serve Orestes?
CHORUS:
Queen of the Earth, rich mounded Earth,
breasting over the lord of ships,
the king's corpse at rest,
hear us now, now help us,
now the time is ripe--
Down to the pit Persuasion goes
with all her cunning. Hermes of Death,
the great shade patrols the ring
to guide the struggles, drive the tearing sword.
LEADER:
And I think our new friend is at his mischief.
Look, Orestes' nurse in tears.
Enter CILISSA.
Where now, old-timer, padding along the gates?
With pain a volunteer to go your way.
NURSE:
`Aegisthus,'
your mistress calling, 'hurry and meet your guests.
There's news. It's clearer man to man, you'll see.'
And she looks at the maids and pulls that long face
and down deep her eyes are laughing over the work
that's done. Well and good for her. For the house
it's the curse all over -- the strangers make that plain.
But let him hear, he'll revel once he knows.
Oh god,
the life is hard. The old griefs, the memories
mixing, cups of pain, so much pain in the halls,
the house of Atreus . . . I suffered, the heart within me
always breaking, oh, but I never shouldered
misery like this. So many blows, good slave,
I took my blows.
Now dear Orestes --
the sweetest, dearest plague of all our lives!
Red from your mother's womb I took you, reared you...
nights, the endless nights I paced, your wailing
kept me moving -- led me a life of labour,
all for what?
And such care I gave it...
baby can't think for itself, poor creature. 740
You have to nurse it, don't you? Read its mind,
little devil's got no words, it's still swaddled.
Maybe it wants a bite or a sip of something,
or its bladder pinches -- a baby's soft insides
have a will of their own. I had to be a prophet. 745
Oh I tried, and missed, believe you me, I missed,
and I'd scrub its pretty things until they sparkled.
Washerwoman and wet-nurse shared the shop.
A jack of two trades, that's me,
and an old hand at both...
and so I nursed Orestes, 750
yes, from his father's arms I took him once,
and now they say he's dead,
I've suffered it all, and now I'll fetch that man,
the ruination of the house -- give him the news,
he'll relish every word.
LEADER:
She tells him to come, 755
but how, prepared?
NURSE:
Prepared, how else?
I don't see
LEADER:
With his men, I mean, or all alone?
NURSE:
Oh, she says to bring his bodyguard, his cut-throats.
LEADER:
No, not now, not if you hate our master--
tell him to come alone.
Nothing for him to fear then, when he hears.
Have him come quickly, too, rejoicing all the way!
The teller sets the crooked message straight.
NURSE:
What,
you're glad for the news that's come?
LEADER:
Why not,
if Zeus will turn the evil wind to good? 765
NURSE:
But how? Orestes, the hope of the house is gone.
LEADER:
Not yet. It's a poor seer who'd say so.
NURSE:
What are you saying? -- something I don't know?
LEADER:
Go in with your message. Do as you're told.
May the gods take care of cares that come from them.
NURSE:
Well, I'm off. Do as I'm told.
And here's to the best...
some help, dear gods, some help.
Exit.
CHORUS:
O now bend to my prayer, Father Zeus,
lord of the gods astride the sky--
grant them all good fortune,
the lords of the house who strain to see
strict discipline return.
Our cry is the cry of Justice,
Zeus, safeguard it well.
Zeus, Zeus,
set him against his enemies in the halls !
Do it, rear him to greatness - two, threefold
he will repay you freely, gladly.
Look now - watch the colt of a man you loved,
yoked to the chariot of pain.
Now the orphan needs you--
harness his racing, rein him in,
preserve his stride so we
can watch him surge at the last turn,
storming for the goal.
And you who haunt the vaults
where the gold glows in the darkness,
hear us now, good spirits of the house,
conspire with us - come,
and wash old works of blood
in the fresh-drawn blood of Justice.
Let the grey retainer, murder, breed no more.
And you, Apollo, lord of the glorious masoned cavern,
grant that this man's house lift up its head,
that we may see with loving eyes
the light of freedom burst from its dark veil!
And lend a hand and scheme
for the rights, my Hermes, help us,
sail the action on with all your breath.
Reveal what's hidden, please, 805
or say a baffling word
in the night and blind men's eyes -
when the morning comes your word is just as dark.
Soon, at last, in the dawn that frees the house,
we sea-widows wed to the winds 810
will beat our mourning looms of song
and sing, 'Our ship's come in!
Mine, mine is the wealth that swells her holds -
those I love are home and free of death.'
But you, when your turn in the action comes, be strong. 815
When she cries 'Son !' cry out 'My father's son!'
Go through with the murder - innocent at last.
Raise up the heart of Perseus in your breast!
And for all you love under earth
and all above its rim, now scarf your eyes 820
against the Gorgon's fury--
In, go in for the slaughter now!
Enter AEGISTHUS, alone.
The butcher comes. Wipe out death with death.
AEGISTHUS:
Coming, coming. Yes, I have my summons.
There's news, I gather, travellers here to tell it. 825
No joy in the telling, though - Orestes dead.
Saddle the house with a bloody thing like that
and it might just collapse. It's still raw
from the last murders, galled and raw.
But how to take the story, for living truth? 830
Or work of a woman's panic, gossip starting up
in the night to flicker out and die?
Turning to the LEADER.
Do you know?
Tell me, clear my mind.
LEADER:
We've heard a little.
But get it from the strangers, go inside.
Messengers have no power. Nothing like
a face-to-face encounter with the source.
AEGISTHUS:
--Must see him, test the messenger. Where was he
when the boy died, standing on the spot?
Or is he dazed with rumour, mouthing hearsay?
No, he'll never trap me open-eyed!
Striding through the doors.
CHORUS:
Zeus, Zeus, what can I say?--
how to begin this prayer, call down
the gods for help? what words
can reach the depth of all I feel?
Now they swing to the work,
the red edge of the cleaver
hacks at flesh and men go down.
Agamemnon's house goes down--
all-out disaster now,
or a son ignites the torch of freedom,
wins the throne, the citadel,
the fathers' realms of gold.
The last man on the bench, a challenger
must come to grips with two. Up,
like a young god, Orestes, wrestle--
let it be to win.
A scream inside the palace.
--Listen!
--What's happening?
--The house,
what have they done to the house?
LEADER:
Back,
till the work is over ! Stand back--
they'll count us clean of the dreadful business. 860
The women scatter; a wounded
SERVANT OfAEGISTRUS enters.
Look, the die is cast, the battle's done.
SERVANT:
Ai,
Ai, all over, master's dead--Aie,
a third, last salute. Aegisthus is no more.
Rushing at a side door, struggling to
work it open.
Open up, wrench the bolts on the women's doors.
Faster! A strong young arm it takes, 865
but not to save him now, he's finished.
What's the use?
Look--wake up !
No good,
I call to the deaf, to sleepers... a waste of breath.
Where are you, Clytaemnestra? What are you doing?
LEADER:
Her head is ripe for lopping on the block. 870
She's next, and justice wields the axe.
The door opens, and CLYTAEMNESTRA
comes forth.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
What now?
Why this shouting up and down the halls?
SERVANT:
The dead are cutting down the quick, I tell you!
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Ah, a riddle. I do well at riddles.
By cunning we die, precisely as we killed. 875
Hand me the man-axe, someone, hurry!
The SERVANT dashes out.
Now we will see. Win all or lose all,
we have come to this-- the crisis of our lives.
The main doors open; ORESTES,
sword in hand, is standing over the
body of AEGISTHUS, with PYLADES
close behind him.
ORESTES:
It's you I want. This one's had enough.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Gone, my violent one-- Aegisthus, very dear. 880
ORESTES:
You love your man? Then lie in the same grave.
You can never be unfaithful to the dead.
Pulling her towards AEGISTHUS' body.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Wait, my son - no respect for this, my child?
The breast you held, drowsing away the hours,
soft gums tugging the milk that made you grow? 885
ORESTES turns to PYLADES.
ORESTES:
What will I do, Pylades?-- I dread to kill my mother!
PYLADES:
What of the future? What of the Prophet God Apollo,
the Delphic voice, the faith and oaths we swear?
Make all mankind your enemy, not the gods.
ORESTES:
O you win me over-- good advice.
Wheeling on CLYTAEMNESTRA,
thrusting her towards AEGISTHUS.
This way-- 890
I want to butcher you--right across his body!
In life you thought he dwarfed my father-- Die!--
go down with him forever!
You love this man,
the man you should have loved you hated.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
I gave you life. Let me grow old with you. 895
ORESTES:
What-- kill my father, then you'd live with me?
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Destiny had a hand in that, my child.
ORESTES:
This too: destiny is handing you your death.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
You have no fear of a mother's curse, my son?
ORESTES:
Mother? You flung me to a life of pain. 900
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Never flung you, placed you in a comrade's house.
ORESTES:
--Disgraced me, sold me, a freeborn father's son.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Oh? then name the price I took for you.
ORESTES:
I am ashamed to mention it in public.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Please, and tell your father's failings, too. 905
ORESTES:
Never judge him--he suffered, you sat here at home.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
It hurts women, being kept from men, my son.
ORESTES:
Perhaps... but the man slaves to keep them safe at home.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
--I see murder in your eyes, my child-- mother's murder!
ORESTES:
You are the murderer, not I-- and you will kill yourself. 910
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Watch out--the hounds of a mother's curse will hunt you
down.
ORESTES:
But how to escape a father's if I fail?
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
I must be spilling live tears on a tomb of stone.
ORESTES:
Yes, my father's destiny-- it decrees your death.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Ai--you are the snake I bore--I gave you life!
ORESTES:
Yes! 915
That was the great seer, that terror in your dreams.
You killed and it was outrage--suffer outrage now.
He draws her over the threshold; the
doors close behind them, and the
chorus gathers at the altar.
LEADER:
I even mourn the victims' double fates.
But Orestes fought, he reached the summit
OI bloodshed here-- we'd rather have it so. 920
he bright eye of the halls must never die.
CHORUS:
Justice came at last to the sons of Priam,
late but crushing vengeance, yes,
but to Agamemnon's house returned
the double lion, 925
the double onslaught
drove to the hilt-- the exile sped by god,
by Delphi's just command that drove him home.
Lift the cry of triumph O! the master's house
wins free of grief, free of the ones 930
who bled its wealth, the couple stained with murder,
free of Fate's rough path.
He came back with a lust for secret combat,
stealthy, cunning vengeance, yes,
but his hand was steered in open fight 935
by god's true daughter,
Right, Right we call her,
we and our mortal voices aiming well--
she breathes her fury, shatters all she hates.
Lift the cry of triumph O! the master's house
wins free of grief, free of the ones 940
who bled its wealth, the couple stained with murder,
free of Fate's rough path.
Apollo wills it so !--
Apollo, clear from the Earth's deep cleft 945
his voice came shrill, 'Now stealth will master stealth!'
And the pure god came down and healed our ancient wounds,
the heavens come, somehow, to lift our yoke of grief--
Now to praise the heavens' just command.
Look, the light is breaking! 950
The huge chain that curbed the halls gives way.
Rise up, proud house, long, too long
your walls lay fallen, strewn along the earth.
Time brings all to birth--
soon Time will stride through the gates with blessings, 955
once the hearth burns off corruption, once
the house drives off the Furies. Look, the dice of Fate
fall well for all to see. We sing how fortune smiles--
the aliens in the house are routed out at last!
Look, the light is breaking! 960
The huge chain that curbed the halls gives way.
Rise up, proud house, long, too long
your walls lay fallen, strewn along the earth.
The doors open. Torches light
PYLADES and ORESTES, sword in
hand, standing over the bodies of
CLYTAEMNESTRA and AEGISTHUS,
as CLYTAEMNESTRA stood over the
bodies of AGAMEMNON and
CASSANDRA.
ORESTES:
Behold the double tyranny of our land!
They killed my father, stormed my fathers' house. 965
They had their power when they held the throne.
Great lovers still, as you may read their fate.
True to their oath, hand in hand they swore
to kill my father, hand in hand to die.
Now they keep their word.
Unwinding from the bodies on the
bier the robes that entangled
AGAMEMNON, he displays them, as
CLYTAEMNESTRA had displayed
them, to the chorus at the altar.
Look once more on this, 970
you who gather here to attend our crimes--
the master-plot that bound my wretched father,
shackled his ankles, manacled his hands.
Spread it out! Stand in a ring around it,
a grand shroud for a man.
Here, unfurl it 975
so the Father--no, not mine but the One
who watches over all, the Sun can behold
my mother's godless work. So he may come,
my witness when the day of judgement comes,
that I pursued this bloody death with justice, 980
mother's death.
Aegisthus, why mention him?
The adulterer dies. An old custom, justice.
But she who plotted this horror against her husband,
she carried his children, growing in her womb
and she--I loved her once 985
and now I loathe, I have to loathe--
what is she?
Kneeling by the body of his mother.
Some moray eel, some viper born to rot her mate
with a single touch, no fang to strike him,
just the wrong, the reckless fury in her heart!
Glancing back and forth from
CLYTAEMNESTRA to the robes.
This-- how can I dignify this... snare for a beast?-- 990
sheath for a corpse's feet?
This winding-sheet,
this tent for the bath of death!
No, a hunting net,
a coiling-- what to call--?
Foot-trap--
woven of robes...
why, this is perfect gear for the highwayman 995
who entices guests and robs them blind and plies
the trade of thieves. With a sweet lure like this
he'd hoist a hundred lives and warm his heart.
Live with such a woman, marry her? Sooner
the gods destroy me-- die without an heir! 1000
CHORUS:
Oh the dreadful work...
Death calls and she is gone.
But oh, for you, the survivor,
suffering is just about to bloom.
ORESTES:
Did she do the work or not?-- Here, come close-- 1005
This shroud's my witness, dyed with Aegisthus' blade--
Look, the blood ran here, conspired with time to blot
the swirling dyes, the handsome old brocade.
Clutching AGAMEMNON'S robes,
burying his face in them and weeping.
Now I can praise you, now I am here to mourn.
You were my father's death, great robe, I hail you! 1010
Even if I must suffer the work and the agony
and all the race of man--
I embrace you . . . you,
my victory, are my guilt, my curse, and still--
CHORUS:
No man can go through life
and reach the end unharmed. 1015
Aye, trouble is now,
and trouble still to come.
ORESTES:
But still,
that you may know--
I see no end in sight,
I am a charioteer-- the reins are flying, look,
the mares plunge off the track--
my bolting heart, 1020
it beats me down and terror beats the drum,
my dance-and-singing master pitched to fury--
And still, while I still have some self-control,
I say to my friends in public: I killed my mother,
not with a little justice. She was stained 1025
with father's murder, she was cursed by god.
And the magic spells that fired up my daring?
One comes first. The Seer of Delphi who declared,
`Go through with this and you go free of guilt.
Fail and -'
I can't repeat the punishment. 1030
What bow could hit the crest of so much pain?
PYLADES gives ORESTES a branch of
olive and invests him in the robes of
APOLLO, the wreath and insignia of
suppliants to DELPHI.
Now look on me, armed with the branch and wreath,
a suppliant bound for the Navelstone of Earth,
Apollo's sacred heights
where they say the fire of heaven can never die. 1035
Looking at his hand that still retains
the sword.
I must escape this blood . . . it is my own. -
Must turn towards his hearth,
none but his, the Prophet God decreed.
I ask you, Argos and all my generations,
remember how these brutal things were done. 104O
Be my witness to Menelaus when he comes.
And now I go, an outcast driven off the land,
in life, in death, I leave behind a name for--
LEADER:
But you've done well. Don't burden yourself
with bad omens, lash yourself with guilt. 1045
You've set us free, the whole city of Argos,
lopped the heads of these two serpents once for all.
Staring at the women and beyond,
ORESTES screams in terror.
ORESTES:
No, no ! Women-- look-- like Gorgons,
shrouded in black, their heads wreathed,
swarming serpents!
--Cannot stay, I must move on. 1050
LEADER:
What dreams can whirl you so? You of all men,
you have your father's love. Steady, nothing
to fear with all you've won.
ORESTES:
No dreams, these torments,
not to me, they're clear, real-- the hounds
of mother's hate.
LEADER:
The blood's still wet on your hands. 1055
It puts a kind of frenzy in you...
ORESTES:
God Apollo!
Here they come, thick and fast,
their eyes dripping hate--
LEADER:
One thing
will purge you. Apollo's touch will set you free
from all your . . . torments.
ORESTES:
You can't see them 1060
I can, they drive me on! I must move on--
He rushes out; PYLADES follows
close behind.
LEADER:
Farewell then. God look down on you with kindness,
guard you, grant you fortune.
CHORUS:
Here once more, for the third time,
the tempest in the race has struck
the house of kings and run its course.
First the children eaten,
the cause of all our pain, the curse.
And next the kingly man's ordeal,
the bath where the proud commander,
lord of Achaea's armies lost his life.
And now a third has come, but who?
A third like Saving Zeus?
Or should we call him death?
Where will it end?--
where will it sink to sleep and rest,
this murderous hate, this Fury?