Clytemnestra.
Ah me! this snake it is I bare and reared.
Orestes.
True prophet was thy dream-engendered fear.
Him thou didst slay whom thou shouldst not have slain.
So doom unseemly suffer in thy turn.
[Orestes drags his mother into the palace, followed by Pylades.]
Chorus.
E'en of this pair I weep the twofold woe.
But since Orestes hath the bloody height
Achieved of dire revenge, one hope remains,
Not quenched the eye of Atreus' royal house. 920
Strophe I.
Justice, in time, with heavy doom,
Smote all of Priam's name;
So Agamemnon, to thy home,
Twin Lions, twofold Ares, came:
Suppliant at Pythos' shrine,
By oracles divine,
Sped on his way, the exile wins the game.
Strophe II.
Hail jubilant the house redeemed from bale!
The godless pair no more
Shall waste its gathered store. 930
Hail, joyous riddance, hail!
