In light who dwell; on others wait,
†Lingering, their woes in Darkness' glimmering realm;
Others sheer Night enshrouds in blackest fate
Strophe III.
When nurturing earth is blood-drenched, lo
Fixed is for aye the vengeance-crying gore;—
And he who shed it, paying Atè's score,
†Doth burgeon out in all-entangling woe. 60
Antistrophe III.
The bridal couch if man profane,
†Hopeless is cure; though in one common flood,
To purify the hand defiled by blood,
All streams commingling flow, they flow in vain.
Epode.
But for myself, through Heaven's command,
The captured city's doom I share;—
Led hither from my native land,
'Tis mine the menial's lot to bear.
Their acts, whose will my fortune sways,
Just or unjust, I needs must praise: 70
†Beneath my vest grief's anguished throes
Shrouding, I quell my bitter hate;—
While numbed in heart by secret woes,
Of my true lords I weep the hapless fate.
Electra.
Ye captive women, yo who tend this home,
