Electra
Euripides
Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.
- washed by the very last bath, in the most piteous bed of death. Oh, me,
- your bitter cleaving by the axe, father, the bitter plans of the way from Troy! Your wife welcomed you with no victor’s garlands or crowns, but with a two-edged sword,
- making you the mournful victim of Aigisthus, she got a treacherous bed-fellow.
- O Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, I have come to your rustic courtyard. A milk-drinker from Mycenae has come, he has come,
- a mountain walker; he reports that the Argives are proclaiming a sacrifice for the third day from now, and that all maidens are to go to Hera’s temple.
- My unhappy heart beats fast, friends, but not at adornment or gold; nor will I set up choruses with the maidens of Argos
- and beat my foot in the mazes of the dance. By tears I pass the night; tears are my unhappy care day by day. See if my filthy hair,
- and the rags of my dress, will be fit for a princess, a daughter of Agamemnon, or for Troy, once taken, which remembers my father.
- Mighty is the goddess; come then, and borrow from me thick-woven clothes to wear, and gold—as a favor to me—accessories to adornment. Do you think to rule over your enemies by tears, if you do not revere the gods?
- Honoring the gods not by lamentation but by prayers, you will have good fortune, child.
- No god attends to the voice of the ill-fated one,
- or to the slaying of my father long ago. Alas for the dead, and for the living vagabond, who dwells in another land somewhere,
- miserably wandering to a slave’s hearth, yet born of that renowned father. I myself live in a poor man’s house, wasting my life away, an exile from my father’s house,
- on the mountain crags. But my mother, with a new husband, makes her home in a bed stained by blood.
- Helen, your mother’s sister, is the cause of many evils to the Hellenes and to your house.
- Ah! Women, I have broken off my lament; strangers, who had their lair at the altar, are rising from ambush towards the household. Let us escape the villains by flight, you along the path and I to the house.
- Stay, poor girl; do not fear my hand.
- O Phoebus Apollo! I beseech you to spare my life.
- May I kill others more hated than you!
- Go away! Do not touch one whom you must not touch.