Stasimon 1
[Choral 1]
If I am not a deranged prophet and one who lacks wise judgments,
Chorus
Justice, the sender of the omen, will come, winning the just victory of her hands’ might.
She will come in pursuit before long, my child. Courage is mine,
475
since I heard just now of this sweet-blowing dream. Never does the lord of the Hellenes, your producer forget,
480
nor does the axe of long ago forget, striking with bronze on its jaws, which in most shameless disgrace annihilated him.
485
She, too, will come, she of many hands and many feet who lurks in her terrible ambush,
the bronze-shod Erinys. For an unwed, unbetrothed passion for a marriage polluted by murder seized the pair, though divine law forbade it to them.
490
Therefore I am confident that the portent—a wonder which I will never blame—will draw near to the criminals and conspirators. To be sure, mortal prophecy
495
from fearful dreams or divine signs exists no more, if this vision of the night does not find due fulfillment.
500
[Choral]
O chariot-race of Pelops long ago, source of many a sorrow,
Chorus
what disaster you have brought upon this land! For ever since Myrtilus sank to rest beneath the waves,
505
hurled to utter destruction from his golden chariot in disgraceful outrage, from that time to this, outrage and its many sorrows
510
were never yet gone from this house.
515