Till the twelfth moon had wheel’d her pale career;

And now, admonish’d by his eye, to court

With terror wing’d conveys the dread report.

Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs

The ministers of blood in dark surprise;

And twenty youths, in radiant mail incased,

Close ambush’d nigh the spacious hall he placed.

Then bids prepare the hospitable treat:

Vain shows of love to veil his felon hate!

To grace the victor’s welcome from the wars,

A train of coursers and triumphal cars

Magnificent he leads: the royal guest,

Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast.

The troop forth-issuing from the dark recess,

With homicidal rage the king oppress!

So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall,

The sovereign of the herd is doomed to fall,

The partners of his fame and toils at Troy,

Around their lord, a mighty ruin, lie:

Mix’d with the brave, the base invaders bleed;

Ægysthus sole survives to boast the deed.’


“He said: chill horrors shook my shivering soul,

Rack’d with convulsive pangs in dust I roll;

And hate, in madness of extreme despair,

To view the sun, or breathe the vital air.

But when, superior to the rage of woe,

I stood restored and tears had ceased to flow,

Lenient of grief the pitying god began:

‘Forget the brother, and resume the man.

To Fate’s supreme dispose the dead resign,

That care be Fate’s, a speedy passage thine

Still lives the wretch who wrought the death deplored,

But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword;

Unless with filial rage Orestes glow,

And swift prevent the meditated blow:

You timely will return a welcome guest,

With him to share the sad funereal feast.’


“He said: new thoughts my beating heart employ,

My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy.

Fair hope revives; and eager I address’d

The prescient godhead to reveal the rest:

‘The doom decreed of those disastrous two

I’ve heard with pain, but oh! the tale pursue;

What third brave son of Mars the Fates constrain