DEATH

OF

CLYTEMNESTRA.

BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, ESQ.

ELECTRA.

Pass on, my brother! She awaits the wretch, Dishonourer, despoiler, murderer,

.. None other name shall name him! . . She

awaits

As would a lover . . .

Heavenly Gods! what poison

O'erflows my lips!.. Adultress! husband

slayer!

Strike her! the tigress!

Think upon our father!

Give the sword scope.. Think what a man

was he!

How fond of her! how kind to all about,

That he might gladden and teach us!.. how prond

Of you, Orestes! tossing you above

His joyous head, and calling you his crown! Ah! boys remember not what melts our hearts And marks them evermore! Bite not your lip, Nor tramp, as an unsteady colt, the ground, Nor stare against the wall, but think again How better than all fathers was our father! Go...

ORESTES.

Loose me then; for this white hand, Electra, Hath fastened upon mine with fiercer grasp Than mine can grasp the sword.

ELECTRA.

Go, sweet Orestes!

I knew not I was holding you.. Avenge him!..

Ever since thou didst loosen its strong valves

Either with all thy dying weight, or strength

Me (son of him who ruled this land, and

more)

She made an outcast. .

Would I had been so

For ever! . . . ere such vengeance.

ELECTRA.

Oh, that Zeus

Had let thy arm fall sooner at thy side,

Without those drops

List! they are audible,

For they are many, from the sword's point

falling,

And down from the mid blade..

Too rash Orestes!

'Twas I, 'twas I, who did it!

Of our unhappy house the most unhappy!
Under this roof, by every God accurst,

There is no grief, there is no guilt, but mine.

ORESTES.

Electra! no! 'Tis now my turn to suffer . . . Mine be, with all its pangs, the righteous

deed!

FROM REDI.

BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, ESQ.

1.

Ye gentle souls! ye love-devoted fair!
Who, passing by, to Pity's voice incline!
O stay awhile, and hear me, then declare
If there was ever grief that equal'd mine.

2.

There was a woman, to whose hallow'd breast Faith had retired, and Honour fixt his throne;

Pride, tho' upheld by Virtue, she represt.
Ye gentle souls! that woman was my own.

3.

Beauty was more than beauty in her face; Grace was in all she did, in all she said; Grace in her pleasures, in her sorrows grace.. Ye gentle souls! that gentle soul is fled.