HEL.  I fear the fathers of those who are dead under Ilium.

ELEC.  For this is a dreadful thing; and at Argos thou art declaimed against by every one’s mouth.

HEL.  Do thou then grant me this favor, and free me from this fear.

ELEC.  I can not look upon the tomb of my mother.

HEL.  And yet it is disgraceful for servants to bear these.

ELEC.  But why not send thy daughter Hermione?

HEL.  It is not well for virgins to go among the crowd.

ELEC.  And yet she might repay the dead the care of her education.

HEL.  Right hast thou spoken, and I obey thee, O virgin, and I will send my daughter, for thou sayest well.  Come forth, my child Hermione, before the house, and take these libations in thine hand, and my hair, and, going to the tomb of Clytaemnestra, leave there this mixture of milk and honey, and the froth of wine, and standing on the summit of the mound, say thus:  “Helen, thy sister, presents thee with these libations, in fear herself to approach thy tomb, and afraid of the populace of Argos:”  and bid her hold kind intentions toward me, and thyself, and my husband, and toward these two miserable persons whom the God has destroyed.  But promise all the offerings to the manes, whatever it is fitting that I should perform for a sister.  Go, my child, hasten, and when thou hast offered the libations at the tomb, remember to return back as speedily as possible.

ELEC. [alone] O Nature, what a great evil art thou among men, and the safeguard of those who possess thee, with virtue!  For see, how she has shorn off the extremities of her hair, in order to preserve her beauty; but she is the same woman she always was.  May the Gods detest thee, for that thou hast destroyed me, and this man, and the whole state of Greece:  oh wretch that I am!  But my dear friends that accompany me in my lamentations are again present; perhaps they will disturb the sleeper from his slumber, and will melt my eyes in tears when I behold my brother raving.

ELECTRA, CHORUS.

ELEC.  O most dear woman, proceed with a gentle foot, make no noise, let there be heard no sound.  For your friendliness is very kind, but to awake him will be a calamity to me.  Hush, hush—­gently advance the tread of thy sandal, make no noise, let there be heard no sound.  Move onward from that place—­onward from before the couch.

CHOR.  Behold, I obey.

ELEC.  St! st!  Speak to me, my friend, as the breathing of the soft reed pipe.

CHOR.  See, I utter a voice low as an under note.

ELEC.  Ay, thus come hither, come hither, approach quietly—­go quietly:  tell me, for what purpose, I pray, are ye come?  For he has fallen on his couch, and been sleeping some time.

CHOR.  How is he?  Give us an account of him, my friend.

ELEC.  What fortune can I say of him? and what his calamities? still indeed he breathes, but sighs at short intervals.