AIGISTHOS.
O light propitious of day justice-bringing!
I may say truly, now, that men's avengers,
The gods from high, of earth behold the sorrows --
Seeing, as I have, i' the spun robes of the Erinues,
This man here lying, -- sight to me how pleasant! --
His father's hands' contrivances repaying.
For Atreus, this land's lord, of this man father,
Thuestes, my own father -- to speak clearly --
His brother too, -- being i' the rule contested, --
Drove forth to exile from both town and household:
And, coming back, to the hearth turned, a suppliant,
Wretched Thuestes found the fate assured him
-- Not to die, bloodying his paternal threshold
Just there: but host-wise this man's impious father
Atreus, soul-keenly more than kindly, -- seeming
To joyous hold a flesh-day, -- to my father
Served up a meal, the flesh of his own children.
The feet indeed and the hands' top divisions
He hid, high up and isolated sitting:
But, their unshowing parts in ignorance taking,
He forthwith eats food -- as thou seest -- perdition
To the race: and then, 'ware of the deed ill-omened,
He shrieked O! -- falls back, vomiting, from the carnage,
And fate on the Pelopidai past bearing
He prays down -- putting in his curse together
The kicking down o' the feast -- that so might perish
The race of Pleisthenes entire: and thence is
That it is given thee to see this man prostrate.
And I was rightly of this slaughter stitch-man:
Since me, -- being third from ten, -- with my poor father
He drives out -- being then a babe in swathe-bands:
But, grown up, back again has justice brought me:
And of this man I got hold -- being without-doors --
Fitting together the whole scheme of ill-will.
So, sweet, in fine, even to die were to me,
Seeing, as I have, this man i' the toils of justice!
CHOROS.
Aigisthos, arrogance in ills I love not.
Dost thou say -- willing, thou didst kill the man here,
And, alone, plot this lamentable slaughter?
I say -- thy head in justice will escape not
The people's throwing -- know that! -- stones and curses!
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The Poetical Works of Robert Browning, volume 13. Robert Browning. London. Smith, Elder, and Co. 1889.
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