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!