And of the bloody deed the bath was witness.
I then, returning to my father’s house
After long exile—I confess the deed—
Slew her who bore me, a dear father’s murder
With murder quitting. The blame—what blame may be—
I share with Loxias, who fore-augured griefs
To goad my heart if, by my fault, such guilt
Should go unpunished. I have spoken. Thou
What I have done, if justly or unjustly,
Decide. Thy doom, howe’er it fall, contents me.