By who fulfilled things for my daughter, Justice,Até, Erinus, — by whose help I slew him, —Not mine the fancy — Fear will tread my palaceSo long as on my hearth there burns a fire,Aigisthos as before well-caring for me;Since he to me is shield, no small, of boldness.Here does he lie — outrager of this female,Dainty of all the Chruseids under Ilion;And she — the captive, the soothsayer alsoAnd couchmate of this man, oracle-speaker,Faithful bed-fellow, — ay, the sailors’ benchesThey wore in common, nor unpunished did so,Since he is — thus! While, as for her, — swan-fashion,Her latest having chanted, — dying wailingShe lies, — to him, a sweetheart: me she brought to —My bed’s by-nicety — the whet of dalliance.

CHOROS.Alas, that someFate would comeUpon us in quickness —Neither much sicknessNeither bed-keeping —And bear unended sleeping,Now that subduedIs our keeper, the kindest of mood!Having borne, for a woman’s sake, much strife —By a woman he withered from life! Ah me!Law-breaking Helena who, one,Hast many, so many souls undone’Neath Troia! and now the consummated