not in bright estate,
Nor blessed by wayward fate,
But through thy loyalty to Heaven's eternal cause
Wearing the stainless crown
Of perfectest renown,
And richly dowered by the mightiest laws.

_Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _with the urn_.

OR. Say, dames and damsels, have we heard aright,
And speed we to the goal of our desire?

CH. And what desire or quest hath brought thee hither?

OR. I seek Aegisthus' dwelling all this while.

CH. Welcome. The tongue that told thee hath no blame.

OR. Which of you all will signify within
Our joint arrival,--not unwelcome here.

CH. This maiden, if the nearest should report.

OR. Mistress, wilt thou go yonder and make known,
That certain Phocians on Aegisthus wait?

EL. Oh! can it be that you are come to bring
Clear proofs of the sad rumour we have heard?

OR. I know not what ye have heard. Old Strophius
Charged me with tidings of Orestes' fate.

EL. What, stranger? How this terror steals on me!

OR. Bearing scant remnants of his body dead
In this small vase thou seest, we bring them home.

EL. O sorrow! thou art here: I see full well
That burden of my heart in present view.

OR. If thou hast tears for aught Orestes suffered,
Know that he lies within this vessel's room.

EL. Ah, sir! by all in Heaven, if yonder urn
Hide him, ah! give it once into my hand,
That o'er that dust I may lament and mourn
Myself and mine own house and all our woe!

OR. Bring it and give her, whosoe'er she be.
For not an enemy--this petition shows it--
But of his friends or kindred, is this maid.
[_The urn is given into_ ELECTRA'S _hands_

EL. O monument of him whom o'er all else
I loved! sole relic of Orestes' life,
How cold in this thy welcome is the hope
Wherein I decked thee as I sent thee forth!
Then bright was thy departure, whom I now
Bear lightly, a mere nothing, in my hands.
Would I had gone from life, ere I dispatched
Thee from my arms that saved thee to a land
Of strangers, stealing thee from death! For then
Thou hadst been quiet on that far off day,
And had thy portion in our father's tomb
Now thou hast perished in the stranger land
Far from thy sister, lorn and comfortless
And I, O wretchedness! neither have bathed
And laid thee forth, nor from the blazing fire
Collected the sad burden, as was meet
But thou, when foreign hands have tended thee
Com'st a small handful in a narrow shell
Woe for the