With hue that gives no token of deeds done:
And I will wear a trouble-clouded eye,
As who of deeds accomplished knoweth nought.1320
Enter Hermionê.
Maiden, from wreathing Klytemnestra's grave,
From pouring offerings to the dead, art come?
Hermione.
I come, her favour won. But on mine ears
Hath smitten strange dismay touching a cry
Heard from the house when I was yet afar.1325
Electra.
Why not?—to us things worthy groans befall.
Hermione.
Ah, say not so! What ill news tellest thou?
Electra.
Argos decrees Orestes' death and mine.
Hermione.
Ah never!—you who are by blood my kin!
Electra.
'Tis fixed: beneath the yoke of doom we stand.1330
Hermione.
For this cause was the cry beneath the roof?
Electra.
The suppliant crying fell at Helen's knees,—
