This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
 Ah, Phoebus! you proclaimed in song unclear justice, but you have brought about clear woes, and granted me a bloody destiny far from the land of Hellas. To what other city can I go?  What host, what pious man will look at me, who killed my mother? Electra
Ah me! Where can I go, to what dance, to what marriage? What husband will receive me  into the bridal bed? Chorus
Again, again your thought changes with the breeze; for now you think piously, though you did not before, and you did dreadful things,  my dear, to your unwilling brother.