Stasimon 6
CHOROS.
Thou rulest me with, now,
1470
Whose heart thou gallest!
And on the body, like a hateful crow,
Stationed, all out of tune, his chant to chant
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Now, of a truth, hast thou set upright
1475
O’er the race that has dominion:
For through him it is that Eros
In the belly is bred: ere ended quite
Is the elder throe — new ichor!
1480
CHOROS.
Certainly, great of might
And heavy of wrath, the Sprite
Thou tellest of, in the palace
— An evil tale of a fate
1485
King, king, how shall I beweep thee?
1490
From friendly soul whatever say?
Thou liest where webs of the spider o’ersweep thee
In impious death, life breathing away.
By a slavish death subdued thou art,
1495
From the hand, by the two-edged dart.