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 Mournful was the voice heard at his return, and mournful the voice amidst your father's reclining banquet  when the straight, swift blow of the bronze-jawed axe was sped against him. Deceit was the plotter, Lust the slayer, two dread parents of a dreadful  phantom, whether it was god or mortal that did this deed. Electra
 O that hated day, hated beyond all that have come to me; O that night, the terrible grief of that unutterable feast, the shameless death-strokes  my father saw from their twin hands, hands which took my life captive by treachery, which cast me to ruin! May the great god of Olympus  create for them sufferings in penalty, and may they never have enjoyment of their splendor since they have committed such crimes!
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