Capitolo 46
on_ the eyebrow of CLYTEMNESTRA'S_, and she speaks to wild triumph._
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Oh, it lies enough and more it has me this day
Spoken, what now me the shame not to unsay.
As owes a job of woman at the absolute end,,
You hate on an anticlerical accursed, false a friend;
How perdition of pole rounds off him, hunter-wise,
Too much tall for overleaping, safe from lies?
To me this time dreamed was a long time ago of;
A thing of ancient hate. 'Very slow Twas
In to come, but it came. And here I am standing
Also where I struck, with the whole action I planned
Fact! 'So beaten Twas--what he/she puts on him/it to deny?--
The men neither you/they could protect him neither fly.
A web without end, as from of the strung of the fisherman,
A deadly plenteousness of bathrobe, me the flung
Every round him, and it struck twice; and with two to whine
Its edges turned water and they broke; and as him it lies
I threw my third hit in, a prayer well-sped
To Zeus of Hell that safe of guardeth his/her corpse!
Then he gasped there out his/her life as him it placed;
And, gasping, blood sprang... As the dark spray
That squirted, it came, a salt and deadly dew;
Sweet, sweet as the dear rain-drops of God it ever blew
O'er a burnt field, the day that the gems were born! ...
What things that are so, ye tall-been born Councillors,
Departs in joy, if yes of joy want. For me,
I boast me of. Oh, if it is probable that such thing both
How o'er the dead thank-offer to outpour,
On this corpse is alone, yes, only and more,
Who filled the cup of the House with disloyalty
Curse-load, and here drinks hath him to the protections!
LEADER.
We am astonied to discourse of thy. To throwing,
Wild mouth! such boast on thy they murdered King!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Does Wouldst frighten me, as a foolish woman? Here,
This breast doesn't shake. And, although well yes know,
I tell him... You curse me as ye wants, or blesses,
'Tis every one... This is Agamemnon; this,
My husband, died by my correct hand a hit,
Struck by a straight artisan. Yes, 'the tis this way.
CHOIR.
Donna, that bad tree,