The House of Atreus

Aeschylus

Capitolo 61

You wakes up the corpse;  th' avengers rise, although late;
    Blood's stains the guilty pride
Of the accursed one who you/they dominate on the earth and the Fate
    Stands on the side of his/her/their children.

ELECTRA

That thros of sped of hath' dig ear as an auction from an arc!
Zeus, Zeus! it is you who dost send from under
A decree on the who does desperate--first from a lot
On a mother a father will visit badly his.

CHOIR

Both it mine to upraise thro' you exhale him some pyre
The liturgical song of delight, while the funeral fire
  Devoureth a man's dead body that is killed
    And a woman placed least!
For that offers me conceal him/it! I check that out-torn,
Hits never austere gust of thro of the hate' my soul,
  And in front of me a vision of anger and bad luck
    It flutters and it ripples before and back.

ORESTES

Zeus, you alone to us parent of art now.
    Struck with a hit that lacerates
  On their heads, and he/she offers the earth both well:
Puts correct where wrong haths were standing;  and you give ear,
    Earth of Or, to my prayer--
Yea, feel Or mother Earth and monarchy of hell!

CHOIR

No, the law has put austerely--
  Blood-drops pour on the earth
You still beg for other shedding of blood;
  Strongly the call of sound of doth of death,
Guilt that calls of ancient time,
A Fury, highest crime with crime.

ELECTRA

  Where, where ye is, powers avenger,
      Furies of Puissant of the killed ones?
    Sees the relics of the run
    Of Atreus, thrust from the pride of place!
  Or Zeus, of that house is now from now on ours,
      What shelter to reach?

CHOIR

Here, to Your moan my heart beats, it mixed wildly;
      Now it is me lorn with sadness,
Darkened in all of my soul, to feel the word of Your pain
  Soon to hope, strength's place I rise,--
  You, while thrusting away the pain, it lifts on eyes of mine
      To the new dawn of cheerfulness.

ORESTES

  Ability it to say of badly lifesaving of aught on badly,
    Done beat by the action of our mother?
  Although now her fallow deer for the pardon, austerely strong
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