Come, Pylades, and let us stand aside,
That I may clearly learn what means this train
Of women offering prayers.
20
Strophe I
Chor. Sent from the house I come,
With quick, sharp beatings of the hands in grief,
To pour libations here;
[*]And see, my cheeks with bloody marks are tracked,[[403]]
The new-cut furrows which my nails have made,