Mighty is the goddess; so come, and borrow of me broidered robes
for apparel and jewels of gold that add a further grace to beauty's
charms. Dost think to triumph o'er thy foes by tears, if thou honour
not the gods? 'Tis not by lamentation but by pious prayers to heaved
that thou, my daughter, wilt make fortune smile on thee.
Electra: No god hearkens to the voice of lost Electra, or heeds the
sacrifices offered by my father long ago. Ah woe for the dead! woe
for the living wanderer, who dwelleth in some foreign land, an outcast
and vagabond at a menial board, sprung though he is of a famous sire!
Myself, too, in a poor man's hut do dwell, wasting my soul with grief,
an exile from my father's halls, here by the scarred hill-side; while
my mother is wedded to a new husband in a marriage stained by blood.
Leader of the Chorus: Many a woe to Hellas and thy house did Helen,
thy mother's sister, cause.
Electra: (catching sight of Orestes and Pylades) Ha! Friends, I break
off my lament; yonder are strangers just leaving the place of ambush
where they were couching, and making for the house. We must seek to
escape the villains by flying, thou along the path and I into my cottage.