And with well-darted arrows from afar
Dost bring them low! And now thou strippest me,
Most wretched one, of all that most I loved.
A lucky throw Orestes now was making,
Getting his feet from out destruction's slough;
But now the hope of high, exulting joy,
[*]Which this house had as healer, he scores down
As present in this fashion that we see.
Orest. I could have wished to come to prosperous hosts,
As known and welcomed for my tidings good;