Stasimon 5
CHOROS.
What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred
Or sent from the flowing sea,
Of a curse on thy head?
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Off thou hast thrown him, off hast cut
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The man from the city: but —
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Off from the city thyself shalt be
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KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Now, indeed, thou adjudgest exile to me,
And citizens’ hate, and to have popular curses:
Nothing of this against the man here bringing,
Who, no more awe-checked than as ’t were a beast’s fate, —
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With sheep abundant in the well-fleeced graze-flocks, —
Sacrificed his child, — dearest fruit of travail
To me, — as song-spell against Threkian blowings.
Not him did it behove thee hence to banish
— Pollution’s penalty? But hearing mzy deeds
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Justicer rough thou art! Now, this I tell thee:
To threaten thus — me, one prepared to have thee
(On like conditions, thy hand conquering) o’er me
Rule: but if God the opposite ordain us,
Thou shalt learn — late taught, certes — to be modest.
1425
CHOROS.
Greatly-intending thou art:
Much-mindful, too, hast thou cried
(Since thy mind, with its slaughter-outpouring part,
Is frantic) that over the eyes, a patch
Of blood — with blood to match —
Yet still, bereft of friends, thy fate
Is — blow with blow to expiate!
1430