GREEK TRAGIC SCENES.

No. II.

SOPHOCLES.

FROM THE ELECTRA.

As the character of Clytemnestra unavoidably excited by the vindictive in Æschylus is distinguished by a resentment of Electra towards her masculine energy, that of Electra in own mother, by heightening the afSophocles is brought out in grace- fecting touches of her fondness for ful relief, as a model of generous the brother from whom she had and enthusiastic sisterly affection.— parted in his infancy, and of the The overflowing of her tenderness pious and melancholy sentiment with and joy on the recognition of the re

which she cherishes the memory of turned Orestes, betraying her into her father. The latter is finely a forgetfulness of their mutual cri- thrown in as a motive for her ferocity tical situation and a heedlessness of in the very acting of the appalling danger, evinces the poet's close ob- catastrophe, when she exhorts Orestes servation of nature. He has con- to repeat his blow: a refined altrived, with exquisite art, to soften lusion to the second wound of Agathe impression of horror which is memnon.

VIDA.
Electra. Chorus of Native Virgins.
To them enter ORESTES, his Guardian, and one or two Attendants

bearing an Urn.
Orestes. Inform me, damsels ; have I heard aright?

And tread I now aright the way I seek?
Chorus. What dost thou seek, and what thy wish in coming ?
Orestes. I have long sought the mansion of Ægisthus.
Chorus. In the right way thou art, and he that show'd thee

Stands clear of blame.
Orestes.

Who of your company
Will speak the welcome presence of us both ?
Chorus. She: if she needs must tell a brother's death.
Orestes. Go, lady: enter in, and signify

That certain Phocyan strangers seek Ægisthus.
Electra. Ah me unhappy! bringst thou certain proofs

Of that sad rumour which has met our ears?
Orestes. What you have heard I know not: but th' old man,

Straphius, has sent a message of Orestes.
Electra. What, stranger, is the message? How I tremble !
Orestes. Thou seest we carry with us in this urn

The crumbled relics of Orestes dead.
Electra. Oh wretched that I am ! it then is clear ;

My whole vast anguish stares me in the face.
Orestes. If that thou weepst th' ill-fortunes of Orestes-

Know that this vase contains his rested ashes.
Electra. Beseech you, stranger ! let me, by the Gods,

If that poor urn indeed enshrines my brother-
Let me but hold it in my hands: and weep
For these sad ashes, for myself, and all

My race at once.
Orestes.

Ho!

ye

that bear the urn,
Give it the lady, whosoe'er she is ;
Not in the spirit of ill-will she asks it;

Some friend perchance of his, or near of blood.
Electra (taking the urn in her arms). Oh dear memorial of the most

beloved
Of men! thou remnant of Orestes' soul !

With hopes how different do I now receive thee
From those with which I sent thee forth ! for now
I grasp thee in my hands, and thou art nothing.
Yet then, poor youth! I sent thee from our house,
Radiant in all thy bloom. Oh! would that life
Had left me, ere I sent thee thus away
Into a foreign land, when I by stealth
Preserved thee safe, and snatch'd thee from the slaughter !
So on that very day thou mightst have fallen,
And thus in quiet shared thy father's tomb !
Now far from home, and in a stranger land,
A banish'd man, and parted from thy sister,
Thou hast most foully fallen! Nor with these hands
Could I, unhappy! deck thy sprinkled corse,
Or, as beseem'd me, bear the painful pile
For th' all-consuming fire: but thou, poor wretch !
Wert laid by foreign hands, and thou art here
A heap of dust within a narrow urn.
Oh me unhappy! unavailing dainties,
Which many a time and oft in the days past
I brought thee with sweet trouble! thou wert never
Dear to thy mother as to me: and I
Of all the household people was thy nurse ;
I, thy own sister, still conversed with thee.
There is an end of all; for on one day
All died with thee: departing, thou hast swept
All with thee, like a storm : dead is my father :
I too am dead to thee: thou dead and vanish'd.
My enemies—they laugh; and she, my mother,
Yet not my mother, is at her wits' end
With exultation : she, concerning whom
Thou oft hast sent me messengers, and said
That thou wouldst come in person and with vengeance.
But thy most ill-starr'd fortune and my own
Hath robb'd us of our hope, and brought me back,
For thy dear person, ashes and a shade.
Ah me! ah me!-ah pitiable form!
Oh! sent through paths of worst calamity
Alas! my dearest! how hast thou destroy'd me!
Thou hast destroy'd me verily, dear brother!
Then take me, take me with thee in thine urn;
Me, who am nothing, blended with thyself
Who now art nothing, that I may hereafter
Dwell with thee in th' invisible abyss ;
And since we shared together a like lot
Here in this upper world, so let me not,
When I am dead, fail of thy sepulchre:

I do not see that grief disturbs the dead.
Chorus.

Of mortal father born,
Be thou discreet, Electra : thy Orestes
Was also mortal : mourn not to excess :

We all must pay the debt of death.
Orestes. Alas! alas ! what shall I say? - Where fix

Midst the perplexing words that crowd upon

I am no longer master of my tongue. Electra. What troubles thee, or wherefore say'st thou this? Orestes. Is thine the noble person of Electra ? Electra. The very same; although in plight most wretched. Orestes. Alas! for this calamitous event! Electra. Why this, O stranger! why these sighs for me? Orestes. Maid, impiously, unworthily abused ! Electra. The object of thy piteous phrase am I.

me ?

a

Orestes. Ab! for thy hapless, unespoused condition !
Electra. Why, stranger! dost thou groan and gaze upon me?
Orestes. How little did I know of my misfortunes !
Electra. From what, that I have said, discernst thou this ?
Orestes. Seeing thee thus in singular distresses.
Electra. And yet thou seest not half of what I suffer..
Orestes. How can I look on worse than what I see?
Electra. I dwell, perforce, with murderers.
Orestes.

How! with murderers ?
Electra. My father's murderers : forced to be their slave.
Orestes. Who drives thee on to this necessity?
Electra. She who is call’d-ah how unlike my mother.
Orestes. Say, by what usage?—blows or sordid fare?
Electra. Blows, and ill fare, and every kind of outrage.
Orestes. And is there none to help or to prevent?
Electra. None-he I had his ashes are before me.
Orestes. Ill-fated maid ! I gaze, and pity thee.
Electra. Know, none has ever pitied me but thou.
Orestes. I only sympathize with thy misfortunes.
Electra. Art thou a kinsman then ?
Orestes.

I would inform thee
If these were friendly.
Electra.

They are friendly; trust them.
Orestes (reaching out his hands to the urn). Set down this urn, and

thou shalt learn the whole.
Electra. Nay—by the Gods, treat me not thus, sweet stranger !
Orestes. Yield to my voice, and thou shalt not repent it.
Electra. Stop-on my knees-bereave me not of that

Which is most precious
Orestes.

Nay-it must not be.
Electra. Oh, my Orestes! I indeed am wretched

If they deprive me of thy very tomb!
Orestes. Speak not so hardly: these are sighs misplaced.
Electra. May not my sighs be utter'd for my brother?
Orestes. You speak not what you ought.
Electra.

Am I unworthy
Of my dead brother?
Orestes.

Lady! no, most worthy :
But this is none of thine.
Electra.

It is, it is,
If that I hold the relics of Orestes.
Orestes. Thou dost not: 'twas a flourish of my speech.
Electra. O where then is my wretched brother's tomb?
Orestes. Nowhere: the living do not want a tomb.
Electra. What sayst thou, youth?
Orestes.

I speak no falsehood now.
Electra. Is he alive?
Orestes.

If I am so, he lives.
Electra. Ha! art thou he?
Orestes.

Look thou upon this ring ;
It was my father's: speak I truth or no?
Electra. Oh blessed day!
Orestes.

Blest ! I confirm thy witness.
Electra. That voice-and art thou come?
Orestes.

Seek me not elsewhere.
Electra. And do I clasp thee in these arms?
Orestes.

For ever! Electra. Oh dearest ladies ! fellow countrywomen!

See you Orestes by this double plot

Dead and alive!
Chorus.

We see it, gentle maiden !
A tear of joy is stealing from our eyes.

Electra. Joy! joy! thou child, thou child of him I loved !

Thou art return'd at last: yes, thou art come!

Yes, thou art met, and look'st on her thou sigh'dst for!
Orestes. Yes—I am here, but wait, and wait in silence.
Electra. What dost thou mean?
Orestes.

Be still, lest those within
O'erhear us.
Electra.

By the never-wedded Dian,
I cannot deign to tremble at the women.

Who block those rooms with a superfluous load.
Orestes. Yet look to it: ev'n women have within

A fiery spirit: thou hast proved it once.
Electra. Oh, wo is me! thou bring'st it to my mind

In all its naked horror, our misfortune,

Which cannot be undone nor blotted out. Orestes. I know it: but when opportunity

Declares itself, this deed may be remember'd. Electra. All, all occasions are the same to me

To speak of this, as I in justice ought,

And scarce my tongue has gain'd its liberty.
Orestes. I think with you: but rein this liberty.
Electra. How?
Orestes.

Give it not a loose, unless in season.
Electra. Who fitly could exchange my words for silence

When thou appear’st before me ? beyond hope
And expectation when I gaze upon thee?

(Pylades goes in at the porch of the palace.) Orestes. Thou seest me, since the Gods urged my return. Electra. Oh heavens !—thou tell’st me still more pleasing tidings:

If the Gods bring thee home, blest is thy coming. Orestes. I'm partly loth to give thy joy the curb,

And partly dread th' excess of this thy transport.
Electra. Oh thou, who after such a tedious time

Took’st thy delightful journey, and hast deign'd
To bless my vision with thy darling presence-

If thou wouldst not behold me drown'd in sorrow-
Orestes. What should I do?
Electra.

Do not deprive me of thee
The pleasure of thy sight, that I should lose thee.
Orestes. I should be angry if another thought it.
Electra. Thou wilt remain then ?
Orestes.

Wherefore should I not?
Electra. Oh, my sweet friends !- I've heard again the voice

I ne'er had hope to hear. Of late I held
My speechless anger, nor would utter

aught
of exclamation while I heard and suffer'ă.
But now I clasp thee: thou art in my sight
With that beloved countenance, which in all

My sore afflictions I could ne'er forget.
Orestes. Break off this useless parley: I am not

To learn how bad is she we call our mother,
Nor that Ægisthus draws my father's wealth
And pours it out to waste with heedless scattering:
Thy talk debars us from the time that serves ;
But show me rather what befits th' occasion;
How best, appearing openly or ambush’d,
We now may find a way to stop the laughter
Of our light-hearted foes. Demean thyself
So that thy mother may not recognize
Thy gladden'd brow, when I the palace enter.
But give thy sobs a vent, as for these tidings,
Though told in falsehood. When we catch success,

We may allow our joy and laugh in freedom. Electra. Nay, oh my brother! that which pleases thee Shall please me also: thou hast brought delight To me, who could not gain it of myself.

I would not for advantage to myself

Trouble thee in the least: I should not thus

Serve, as I ought, the Power whose presence aids us.
What passes here thou know'st: is it not so?
Ægisthus is abroad: at home my mother.
Fear not that she will see my face in smiles;
I feel the ancient inbred hate within me;
And since I look'd upon thee, shall not cease
To weep-though they are tears of joy. For how
Should I refrain, who saw thee thus at once
Dead and alive? thou hast accomplish'd wonders:
Nay-if my father should return alive

I should not deem the sight a prodigy,

But should believe I saw him. Thou hast reach'd me
By such a wondrous path, 'tis surely fitting
That thou dispose the matter to thy mind:
Stood I alone, I would not from th' attempt
Shrink, but would die with honour or be free.
Orestes. Beseech you, silence! for I hear the step
Within of some-one passing through the doors.

Electra (to Orestes and the attendants). Enter, oh strangers!-bearers

of a gift

Which may no inmate of this house reject,

Nor yet accept with an ill-omen'd joy.

PYLADES (coming from the Palace).

Pylades. Oh most infatuate and deprived of sense!
Set ye no greater value on your lives,
Or have ye not innate the power of reason,
That when
ye stand, I will not say most near,
Fast in the jaws of peril, great and pressing,
Ye have no knowledge? had I not kept close
The door, your machinations would have reach'd
The inner mansion, ere yourselves could enter.
But, as it is, I have opposed to this

My own precaution. Leave this prolix talk,
And this immoderate burst of joy, and enter.
To linger in conjunctures such as this

Is fatal: 'tis the crisis of deliverance.

Orestes. How stand affairs within, if I should enter?

Pylades. As thou couldst wish: there is not one could know thee.
Orestes. Didst thou report me dead, as was befitting?

Pylades. Assure thee, thou art dead though standing here.
Orestes. Rejoice they at these tidings? or what say they?
Pylades. When all is done I'll tell thee. Now suffice it
That all goes well, ev'n that which seemeth ill.
Electra. Beseech you, tell me, who is this, my brother?
Orestes. And know'st thou not?

Electra.
I cannot ev'n conjecture.
Orestes. Thou know'st not to whose hands thou gavest me once?
Electra. To whose?-what say'st thou?
Orestes.

His, by whom thy foresight

Sent me by stealth unto the land of Phocis. Electra. Ah! is this he, the only faithful found

Among the many, when my father bled?

Orestes. The same, assure thee: thou may'st spare thy questions. Electra. O blessed day! sole pillar of the house

Of Agamemnon, say, how camest thou hither?