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Monologue

Electra Monologue

From Electra by Euripides

female · anguished · 46 sec

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No care cometh to God For the voice of the helpless; none For the crying of ancient blood. Alas for him that is gone, And for thee, O wandering one: That now, methinks, in a land Of the stranger must toil for hire, And stand where the poor men stand, A-cold by another's fire, O son of the mighty sire: While I in a beggar's cot On the wrecked hills, changing not, Starve in my soul for food; But our mother lieth wed In another's arms, and blood Is about her bed.

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