...he Titans; but . . . a bloody fate, not to be hymned by the lyre, of strangers who wail a piteous cry and weep piteous tears. And now I must forget these things, and lament my brother, killed in Argos , whom I left at the breast, still a baby, still an infant, still a young child in his mother's arms and at her breast, the holder of the scepter in Argos, Orestes.