Monologue

Chorus Monologue from Electra

From Electra by Euripides

any · joyful · 31 sec

Now, now thou shalt dance in our dances, Beloved, as a fawn in the night! The wind is astir for the glances Of thy feet; thou art robed with delight. He hath conquered, he cometh to free us With garlands new-won, More high than the crowns of Alpheüs, Thine own father's son: Cry, cry, for the day that is won!

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