from Clytemnestra Triumphant
So he goes down, and the life is bursting out of him--
great sprays of blood, and the murderous shower
wounds me, dyes me black and I, I revel
like the Earth when the spring rains come down
the blessed gifts of god, and the new green spear
splits the sheath and rips to birth in glory!
And if I'd pour upon his body the libation
it deserves, what wine could match my words?
It is right and more than right.
--Translated by Robert Fagles