Electra
Sophocles
Sophocles the plays and fragments, Part 6: The Electra. Jebb, Richard Claverhouse, Sir, translator. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1894.
- No, no; before all else, let us strive to obey the commands of Loxias and from them make a fair beginning by pouring libations to your father. For such actions bring
- victory within our grasp and give us mastery in all our doings.Exeunt Paedagogus on the spectators left, Orestes and Pylades on the right.
- O you pure sunlight, and you air, light’s equal partner over earth, how often have you heard the chords of my laments
- and the thudding blows against this bloodied breast at the time of gloomy night’s leaving off! My accursed bed in that house of suffering there knows well already how I observe my night-long rites—how often I bewail my miserable
- father, whom bloody Ares did not welcome with deadly gifts in a foreign land, but my mother and her bedfellow Aegisthus split his head with murderous axe, just as woodmen chop an oak.
- And for this crime no pitying cry bursts from any lips but mine, when you, Father, have died a death so cruel and so deserving of pity!
- But never will I end from cries and bitter lamentation,
- while I look on the stars’ glistening flashes or on this light of day. No, like the nightingale, slayer of her offspring, I will wail without ceasing, and cry aloud to all here at the doors of my father.
- O House of Hades and Persephone! O Hermes of the shades! O potent Curse, and you fearsome daughters of the gods, the Erinyes, who take note when a life is unjustly taken, when a marriage-bed is thievishly dishonored,
- come, help me, bring vengeance for the murder of my father and send me my brother. I no longer have the strength to hold up alone against
- the load of grief that crushes me.
- Ah, Electra, child of a most wretched mother, why are you always wasting away in this unsated mourning for Agamemnon, who long ago was godlessly
- ensnared in your false mother’s wiles and betrayed by her corrupt hand? May the one who did that perish, if I may speak such a curse without breaking the gods’ laws.
- Ah, noble-hearted girls,
- you have come to relieve me in my troubles. I know and feel it: it does not escape me. Still I cannot leave this task undone, nor abandon this mourning for my poor father. Ah, friends whose love responds to mine in every mood,
- allow me to rave as I am, oh, please, I beg you!
- But never by weeping nor by prayer will you resurrect your father from the pool of Hades which receives all men.
- No, by grieving without end and beyond due limits you will find cureless misery and your own ruin; in these actions there is no deliverance from evils. Tell us, why do you pursue such suffering?
- Foolish is the child who forgets a parent’s piteous death. No, closer to my heart is the mourner who eternally wails, Itys, Itys, that bird mad with grief, the messenger of Zeus.
- Ah, all-suffering Niobe, you I count divine, since you weep forever in your rocky tomb!