The Oresteia

Sleep on! awake! what skills your sleep to me--Me, among all the dead by you dishonoured--Me from whom never, in the world of death,Dieth this curse, "'Tis she who smote and slew",And shamed and scorned I roam? Awake, and hearMy plaint of dead men's hate intolerable.Me, sternly slain by them that should have loved,Me doth no god arouse him to avenge,Hewn down in blood by matricidal hands.