SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 93 | Next

Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"Modern Italian Poets Essays and Versions"

_ Leave her; she is perchance
Kindling the pyre unto her traitor husband.
_Pyl._ Oh, thou hast far more than fulfilled thy vengeance.
Come, now, and ask no more.
_Or._ What dost thou say?
_El._ Our mother! I beseech thee yet again!
Pylades--Oh what chill is this that creeps
Through all my veins?
_Pyl._ The heavens--
_El._ Ah, she is dead!
_Or._ Hath turned her dagger, maddened, on herself?
_El._ Alas, Pylades! Why dost thou not answer?
_Or._. Speak! What hath been?
_Pyl._ Slain--
_Or._ And by whose hand?
_Pyl._ Come!
_El._ (_To_ ORESTES.) Thou slewest her!
_Or._ I parricide?
_Pyl._ Unknowing
Thou plungedst in her heart thy sword, as blind
With rage thou rannest on Aegisthus--
_Or._ Oh,
What horror seizes me! I parricide?
My sword! Pylades, give it me; I'll have it--
_Pyl._ It shall not be.
_El._ Brother--
_Or._ Who calls me brother?
Thou, haply, impious wretch, thou that didst save me
To life and matricide? Give me my sword!
My sword! O fury! Where am I? What is it
That I have done? Who stays me? Who follows me?
Ah, whither shall I fly, where hide myself?--
O father, dost thou look on me askance?
Thou wouldst have blood of me, and this is blood;
For thee alone--for thee alone I shed it!
_El.


Pages:
81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105