Iphigenia in Tauris       

Euripides 410 BC
Translated by Robert Potter

Born about 480 B.C., somewhere in the vicinity of Athens, Euripides, the son of Mnesarchides, was destined from the beginning to be a misunderstood poet. He presented his first set of tragedies at the Great Dionysia in 455 B.C., but did not win his first victory until 441. In fact, he won only five awards--and the fifth of these was not awarded until after his death. This lack of recognition might seem a bit odd when one considers that Euripides wrote about 92 plays and was compared, even during his lifetime, to the likes of Aeschylus and Sophocles. But Euripides was ignored by the judges of the Greek festival because he did not cater to the the fancies of the Athenian crowd. He did not approve of their superstitions and refused to condone their moral hypocrisy. He was a pacifist, a free thinker, and a humanitarian in an age when such qualities were increasingly overshadowed by intolerance and violence. Perhaps that is why he chose to live much of his life alone with his books in a cave on the island of Salamis.

Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides

410 BC translated by Robert Potter
2004


CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

IPHIGENIA, daughter of Agamemnon ORESTES, brother of IPHIGENIA PYLADES, friend Of ORESTES THOAS, King of the Taurians HERDSMAN MESSENGER MINERVA CHORUS OF GREEK WOMEN, captives, attendants on IPHIGENIA in the temple

(SCENE:-Before the great temple of Diana of the Taurians. A blood-stained altar is prominently in view. IPHIGENIA, clad as a priestess, enters from the temple.)

IPHIGENIA

To Pisa, by the fleetest coursers borne, Comes Pelops, son of Tantalus, and weds The virgin daughter of Oenomaus: From her sprung Atreus; Menelaus from him, And Agamemnon; I from him derive My birth, his Iphigenia, by his queen, Daughter of Tyndarus. Where frequent winds Swell the vex'd Euripus with eddying blasts, And roll the darkening waves, my father slew me, A victim to Diana, so he thought, For Helen's sake, its bay where Aulis winds, To fame well known; for there his thousand ships, The armament of Greece, the imperial chief Convened, desirous that his Greeks should snatch The glorious crown of victory from Troy, And punish the base insult to the bed Of Helen, vengeance grateful to the soul Of Menelaus. But 'gainst his ships the sea Long barr'd, and not one favouring breeze to swell His flagging sails, the hallow'd flames the chief Consults, and Calchas thus disclosed the fates:- "Imperial leader of the Grecian host, Hence shalt thou not unmoor thy vessels, ere Diana as a victim shall receive Thy daughter Iphigenia: what the year Most beauteous should produce, thou to the queen Dispensing light didst vow to sacrifice: A daughter Clytemnestra in thy house Then bore (the peerless grace of beauty thus To me assigning); her must thou devote The victim." Then Ulysses by his arts, Me, to Achilles as design'd a bride, Won from my mother. My unhappy fate To Aulis brought me; on the altar there High was I placed, and o'er me gleam'd the sword, Aiming the fatal wound: but from the stroke Diana snatch'd me, in exchange a hind Giving the Grecians; through the lucid air Me she conveyed to Tauris, here to dwell, Where o'er barbarians a barbaric king Holds his rude sway, named Thoas, whose swift foot Equals the rapid wing: me he appoints The priestess of this temple, where such rites Are pleasing to Diana, that the name Alone claims honour; for I sacrifice
(Such, ere I came, the custom of the state) Whatever Grecian to this savage shore Is driven: the previous rites are mine; the deed Of blood, too horrid to be told, devolves On others in the temple: but the rest, In reverence to the goddess, I forbear. But the strange visions which the night now past Brought with it, to the air, if that may soothe My troubled thought, I will relate. I seem'd, As I lay sleeping, from this land removed, To dwell at Argos, resting on my couch Mid the apartments of the virgin train. Sudden the firm earth shook: I fled, and stood Without; the battlements I saw, and all The rocking roof fall from its lofty height In ruins to the ground: of all the house, My father's house, one pillar, as I thought, Alone was left, which from its cornice waved A length of auburn locks, and human voice Assumed: the bloody office, which is mine To strangers here, respecting, I to death, Sprinkling the lustral drops, devoted it With many tears. My dream I thus expound:- Orestes, whom I hallow'd by my rites, Is dead: for sons are pillars of the house; They, whom my lustral lavers sprinkle, die. I cannot to my friends apply my dream, For Strophius, when I perish'd, had no son. Now, to my brother, absent though he be, Libations will I offer: this, at least, With the attendants given me by the king, Virgins of Greece, I can: but what the cause They yet attend me not within the house, The temple of the goddess, where I dwell?

(She goes into the temple. ORESTES and PYLADES enter cautiously.)

ORESTES

Keep careful watch, lest some one come this way.

PYLADES

I watch, and turn mine eye to every part.

ORESTES

And dost thou, Pylades, imagine this The temple of the goddess, which we seek, Our sails from Argos sweeping o'er the main?

PYLADES

Orestes, such my thought, and must be thine.

ORESTES

And this the altar wet with Grecian blood?

PYLADES

Crimson'd with gore behold its sculptured wreaths.

ORESTES

See, from the battlements what trophies hang!

PYLADES

The spoils of strangers that have here been slain.

ORESTES

Behooves us then to watch with careful eye. O Phoebus, by thy oracles again Why hast thou led me to these toils? E'er since, In vengeance for my father's blood, I slew My mother, ceaseless by the Furies driven, Vagrant, an outcast, many a bending course My feet have trod: to thee I came, of the Inquired this whirling frenzy by what means, And by what means my labours I might end. Thy voice commanded me to speed my course To this wild coast of Tauris, where a shrine Thy sister hath, Diana; thence to take The statue of the goddess, which from heaven
(So say the natives) to this temple fell: This image, or by fraud or fortune won, The dangerous toil achieved, to place the prize In the Athenian land: no more was said; But that, performing this, I should obtain Rest from my toils. Obedient to thy words, On this unknown, inhospitable coast Am I arrived. Now, Pylades (for thou Art my associate in this dangerous task), Of thee I ask, What shall we do? for high The walls, thou seest, which fence the temple round. Shall we ascend their height? But how escape Observing eyes? Or burst the brazen bars? Of these we nothing know: in the attempt To force the gates, or meditating means To enter, if detected, we shall die. Shall we then, ere we die, by flight regain The ship in which we hither plough'd the sea?

PYLADES

Of flight we brook no thought, nor such hath been Our wont; nor may the god's commanding voice Be disobey'd; but from the temple now Retiring, in some cave, which the black sea Beats with its billows, we may lie conceal'd At distance from our bark, lest some, whose eyes May note it, bear the tidings to the king, And we be seized by force. But when the eye Of night comes darkling on, then must we dare, And take the polish'd image from the shrine, Attempting all things: and the vacant space Between the triglyphs (mark it well) enough Is open to admit us; by that way Attempt we to descend: in toils the brave Are daring; of no worth the abject soul.

ORESTES

This length of sea we plough'd not, from this coast, Nothing effected, to return: but well Hast thou advised; the god must be obey'd. Retire we then where we may lie conceal'd; For never from the god will come the cause, That what his sacred voice commands should fall Effectless. We must dare. No toil to youth Excuse, which justifies inaction, brings.

(They go out. IPHIGENIA and the CHORUS enter from the temple.)

IPHIGENIA (singing)

You, who your savage dwellings hold Nigh this inhospitable main, 'Gainst clashing rocks with fury roll'd, From all but hallow'd words abstain. Virgin queen, Latona's grace, joying in the mountain chase, To thy court, thy rich domain, To thy beauteous-pillar'd fane Where our wondering eyes behold Battlements that blaze with gold, Thus my virgin steps I bend, Holy, the holy to attend; Servant, virgin queen, to thee; Power, who bear'st life's golden key, Far from Greece for steeds renown'd, From her walls with towers crown'd, From the beauteous-planted meads Where his train Eurotas leads, Visiting the loved retreats, Once my father's royal seats.

CHORUS (singing)

I come. What cares disturb thy rest? Why hast thou brought me to the shrine? Doth some fresh grief afflict thy breast? Why bring me to this seat divine? Thou daughter of that chief, whose powers Plough'd with a thousand keels the strand And ranged in arms shook Troy's proud towers Beneath the Atreidae's great command!

IPHIGENIA (singing)

O ye attendant train, How is my heart oppress'd with wo! What notes, save notes of grief, can flow, A harsh and unmelodious strain? My soul domestic ills oppress with dread, And bid me mourn a brother dead. What visions did my sleeping sense appall In the past dark and midnight hour! 'Tis ruin, ruin all. My father's houses-it is no more: No more is his illustrious line. What dreadful deeds hath Argos known! One only brother, Fate, was mine; And dost thou rend him from me? Is he gone To Pluto's dreary realms below? For him, as dead, with pious care This goblet I prepare; And on the bosom of the earth shall flow Streams from the heifer mountain-bred, The grape's rich juice, and, mix'd with these, The labour of the yellow bees, Libations soothing to the dead. Give me the oblation: let me hold The foaming goblet's hallow'd gold. O thou, the earth beneath, Who didst from Agamemnon spring; To thee, deprived of vital breath, I these libations bring. Accept them: to thy honour'd tomb, Never, ah! never shall I come; Never these golden tresses bear, To place them there, there shed the tear; For from my country far, a hind There deem'd as slain, my wild abode I find.

CHORUS (singing)

To thee thy faithful train The Asiatic hymn will raise, A doleful, a barbaric strain, Responsive to thy lays, And steep in tears the mournful song,- Notes, which to the dead belong; Dismal notes, attuned to woe By Pluto in the realms below: No sprightly air shall we employ To cheer the soul, and wake the sense of joy.

IPHIGENIA (singing)

The Atreidae are no more; Extinct their sceptre's golden light; My father's house from its proud height Is fallen: its ruins I deplore. Who of her kings at Argos holds his reign, Her kings once bless'd? But Sorrow's train Rolls on impetuous for the rapid steeds Which o'er the strand with Pelops fly. From what atrocious deeds Starts the sun back, his sacred eye Of brightness, loathing, turn'd aside? And fatal to their house arose, From the rich ram, Thessalia's golden pride, Slaughter on slaughter, woes on woes: Thence, from the dead ages past, Vengeance came rushing on its prey, And swept the race of Tantalus away. Fatal to thee its ruthless haste; To me too fatal, from the hour My mother wedded, from the night She gave me to life's opening light, Nursed by affliction's cruel power. Early to me, the Fates unkind, To know what sorrow is assign'd: Me Leda's daughter, hapless dame, First blooming offspring of her bed
(A father's conduct here I blame), A joyless victim bred; When o'er the strand of Aulis, in the pride Of beauty kindling flames of love, High on my splendid car I move, Betrothed to Thetis' son a bride: Ah, hapless bride, to all the train Of Grecian fair preferr'd in vain! But now, a stranger on this strand, 'Gainst which the wild waves beat, I hold my dreary, joyless seat, Far distant from my native land, Nor nuptial bed is mine, nor child, nor friend. At Argos now no more I raise The festal song in Juno's praise; Nor o'er the loom sweet-sounding bend, As the creative shuttle flies; Give forms of Titans fierce to rise; And, dreadful with her purple spear, Image Athenian Pallas there: But on this barbarous shore The unhappy stranger's fate I moan, The ruthless altar stain'd with gore, His deep and dying groan; And, for each tear that weeps his woes, From me a tear of pity flows. Of these the sad remembrance now must sleep: A brother dead, ah me! I weep: At Argos him, by fate oppress'd, I left an infant at the breast, A beauteous bud, whose opening charms Then blossom'd in his mother's arms; Orestes, born to high command, The imperial sceptre of the Argive land.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Leaving the sea-wash'd shore a herdsman comes Speeding, with some fresh tidings to thee fraught.

(A HERDSMAN enters.)

HERDSMAN

Daughter of Agamemnon, and bright gem Of Clytemnestra, hear strange things from me.

IPHIGENIA

And what of terror doth thy tale import?

HERDSMAN

Two youths, swift-rowing 'twixt the clashing rocks Of our wild sea, are landed on the beach, A grateful offering at Diana's shrine, And victims to the goddess. Haste, prepare The sacred lavers, and the previous rites.

IPHIGENIA

Whence are the strangers? from what country named?

HERDSMAN

From Greece: this only, nothing more, I know.

IPHIGENIA

Didst thou not hear what names the strangers bear?

HERDSMAN

One by the other was call'd Pylades.

IPHIGENIA

How is the stranger, his companion, named?

HERDSMAN

This none of us can tell: we heard it not.

IPHIGENIA

How saw you them? how seized them? by what chance?

HERDSMAN

Mid the rude cliffs that o'er the Euxine hang-

IPHIGENIA

And what concern have herdsmen with the sea?

HERDSMAN

To wash our herds in the salt wave we came.

IPHIGENIA

To what I ask'd return: how seized you them? Tell me the manner; this I wish to know: For slow the victims come, nor hath some while The altar of the goddess, as was wont, Been crimson'd with the streams of Grecian blood.

HERDSMAN

Our herds, which in the forest feed, we drove Amid the tide that rushes to the shore, 'Twixt the Symplegades: it was the place, Where in the rifted rock the chafing surge Hath hallow'd a rude cave, the haunt of those Whose quest is purple. Of our number there A herdsman saw two youths, and back return'd With soft and silent step; then pointing, said, "Do you not see them? These are deities That sit there." One, who with religious awe Revered the gods, with hands uplifted pray'd, His eyes fix'd on them,-"Son of the sea-nymph Leucothoe, guardian of the labouring bark, Our lord Palaemon, be propitious to us! Or sit you on our shores, bright sons of Jove, Castor and Pollux? Or the glorious boast Of Nereus, father of the noble choir Of fifty Nereids?" One, whose untaught mind Audacious folly harden'd 'gainst the sense Of holy awe, scoff'd at his prayers, and said,- "These are wreck'd mariners, that take their seat In the cleft rock through fear, as they have heard Our prescribed rite, that here we sacrifice The stranger." To the greater part he seem'd Well to have spoken, and we judged it meet To seize the victims, by our country's law Due to the goddess. Of the stranger youths, One at this instant started from the rock: Awhile he stood, and wildly toss'd his head, And groan'd, his loose arms trembling all their length, Convulsed with madness; and a hunter loud Then cried,-"Dost thou behold her, Pylades? Dost thou not see this dragon fierce from hell Rushing to kill me, and against me rousing Her horrid vipers? See this other here, Emitting fire and slaughter from her vests, Sails on her wings, my mother in her arms Bearing, to hurl this mass of rock upon me! Ah, she will kill me! Whither shall I fly?" His visage might we see no more the same, And his voice varied; now the roar of bulls, The howl of dogs now uttering, mimic sounds Sent by the maddening Furies, as they say. Together thronging, as of death assured, We sit in silence; but he drew his sword, And, like a lion rushing mid our herds, Plunged in their sides the weapon, weening thus To drive the Furies, till the briny wave Foam'd with their blood. But when among our herds We saw this havoc made, we all 'gan rouse To arms, and blew our sounding shells to alarm The neighbouring peasants; for we thought in fight Rude herdsmen to these youthful strangers, train'd To arms, ill match'd; and forthwith to our aid Flock'd numbers. But, his frenzy of its force Abating, on the earth the stranger falls, Foam bursting from his mouth: but when he saw The advantage, each adventured on and hurl'd What might annoy him fallen: the other youth Wiped off the foam, took of his person care, His fine-wrought robe spread over him; with heed The flying stones observing, warded of The wounds, and each kind office to his friend Attentively perform'd. His sense return'd; The stranger started up, and soon perceived The tide of foes that roll'd impetuous on, The danger and distress that closed them round. He heaved a sigh; an unremitting storm Of stones we pour'd, and each incited each: Then we his dreadful exhortation heard:- "Pylades, we shall die; but let us die With glory: draw thy sword, and follow me." But when we saw the enemies advance With brandish'd swords, the steep heights crown'd with wood We fell in flight: but others, if one flies, Press on them; if again they drive these back, What before fled turns, with a storm of stones Assaulting them; but, what exceeds belief, Hurl'd by a thousand hands, not one could hit The victims of the goddess: scarce at length, Not by brave daring seized we them, but round We closed upon them, and their swords with stones Beat, wily, from their hands; for on their knees They through fatigue had sunk upon the ground: We bare them to the monarch of this land: He view'd them, and without delay to the Sent them devoted to the cleansing vase, And to the altar. Victims such as these, O virgin, wish to find; for if such youths Thou offer, for thy slaughter Greece will pay, Her wrongs to thee at Aulis well avenged.

LEADER

These things are wonderful, which thou hast told Of him, whoe'er he be, the youth from Greece Arrived on this inhospitable shore.

IPHIGENIA

'Tis well: go thou, and bring the strangers hither: What here is to be done shall be our care.

(The HERDSMAN departs.)

O my unhappy heart! before this hour To strangers thou wast gentle, always touch'd With pity, and with tears their tears repaid, When Grecians, natives of my country, came Into my hands: but from the dreams, which prompt To deeds ungentle, showing that no more Orestes views the sun's fair light, whoe'er Ye are that hither come, me will you find Relentless now. This is the truth, my friends: My heart is rent; and never will the wretch, Who feels affliction's cruel tortures, bear Good-will to those that are more fortunate. Never came gale from Jove, nor flying bark, Which 'twixt the dangerous rocks of the Euxine sea Brought Helen hither, who my ruin wrought, Nor Menelaus; that on them my foul wrongs I might repay, and with an Aulis here Requite the Aulis there, where I was seized, And, as a heifer, by the Grecians slain: My father too, who gave me birth, was priest. Ah me! the sad remembrance of those ills Yet lives: how often did I stroke thy cheek, And, hanging on thy knees, address thee thus:- "Alas, my father! I by thee am led A bride to bridal rites unbless'd and base: Them, while by thee I bleed, my mother hymns, And the Argive dames, with hymeneal strains, And with the jocund pipe the house resounds: But at the altar I by thee am slain; For Pluto was the Achilles, not the son Of Peleus, whom to me thou didst announce The affianced bridegroom, and by guile didst bring To bloody nuptials in the rolling car." But, o'er mine eyes the veil's fine texture spread, This brother in my hands who now is lost, I clasp'd not, though his sister; did not press My lips to his, through virgin modesty, As going to the house of Peleus: then Each fond embrace I to another time Deferr'd, as soon to Argos to return. If, O unhappy brother, thou art dead, From what a state, thy father's envied height Of glory, loved Orestes, art thou torn!- These false rules of the goddess much I blame: Whoe'er of mortals is with slaughter stain'd, Or hath at childbirth given assisting hands, Or chanced to touch aught dead, she as impure Drives from her altars; yet herself delights In human victims bleeding at her shrine. Ne'er did Latona from the embrace of Jove Bring forth such inconsistence: I then deem The feast of Tantalus, where gods were guests, Unworthy of belief, as that they fed On his son's flesh delighted; and I think These people, who themselves have a wild joy In shedding human blood, their savage guilt Charge on the goddess: for this truth I hold; None of the gods is evil, or doth wrong.

(She enters the temple.)

CHORUS (singing)

Ye rocks, ye dashing rocks, whose brow Frowns o'er the darken'd deeps below; Whose wild, inhospitable wave, From Argos flying and her native spring, The virgin once was known to brave, Tormented with the brize's maddening sting, From Europe when the rude sea o'er She pass'd to Asia's adverse shore; Who are these hapless youths, that dare to land, Leaving those soft, irriguous meads, Where, his green margin fringed with reeds, Eurotas rolls his ample tide, Or Dirce's hallow'd waters glide, And touch this barbarous, stranger-hating strand, The altars where a virgin dews, And blood the pillar'd shrine imbrues? Did they with oars impetuous sweep
(Rank answering rank) the foamy deep, And wing their bark with flying sails, To raise their humble fortune their desire; Eager to catch the rising gales, Their bosoms with the love of gain on fire? For sweet is hope to man's fond breast; The hope of gain, insatiate guest, Though on her oft attends Misfortune's train; For daring man she tempts to brave The dangers of the boisterous wave, And leads him heedless of his fate Through many a distant barbarous state. Vain his opinions, his pursuits are vain! Boundless o'er some her power is shown, But some her temperate influence own. How did they pass the dangerous rocks Clashing with rude, tremendous shocks? How pass the savage-howling shore, Where once the unhappy Phineus held his reign, And sleep affrighted flies its roar, Steering their rough course o'er this boisterous main, Form'd in a ring, beneath whose waves The Nereid train in high arch'd caves Weave the light dance, and raise the sprightly song, While, whispering in their swelling sails, Soft Zephyrs breathe, or southern gales Piping amid their tackling play, As their bark ploughs its watery way Those hoary cliffs, the haunts of birds, along, To that wild strand, the rapid race Where once Achilles deign'd to grace? O that from Troy some chance would bear Leda's loved daughter, fatal fair
(The royal virgin's vows are mine) That her bright tresses roll'd in crimson dew, Her warm blood flowing at this shrine The altar of the goddess might imbrue; And Vengeance, righteous to repay Her former mischiefs, seize her prey! But with what rapture should I hear his voice, If one this shore should reach from Greece, And bid the toils of slavery cease! Or might I in the hour of rest With pleasing dreams of Greece be bless'd; So in my house, my native land rejoice; In sleep enjoy the pleasing strain For happiness restored again

(IPHIGENIA enters from the temple.)

IPHIGENIA

But the two youths, their hands fast bound in chains, The late-seized victims to the goddess, come. Silence, my friends; for, destined at the shrine To bleed, the Grecian strangers near approach; And no false tidings did the herdsman bring.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Goddess revered, if grateful to thy soul This state presents such sacrifice, accept The victims, which the custom of this land Gives thee, but deem'd unholy by the Greeks.

(Guards lead in ORESTES and PYLADES, bound.)

IPHIGENIA

No more; that to the goddess each due rite Be well perform'd shall be my care. Unchain The strangers' hands; that, hallow'd as they are, They may no more be bound.

(The guards release ORESTES and PYLADES.)

Go you, prepare Within the temple what the rites require. Unhappy youths, what mother brought you forth, Your father who? Your sister, if perchance Ye have a sister, of what youths deprived? For brother she shall have no more. Who knows Whom such misfortunes may attend? For dark What the gods will creeps on; and none can tell The ills to come: this fortune from the sight Obscures. But, O unhappy strangers, say, Whence came you? Sail'd you long since for this land? But long will be your absence from your homes, For ever, in the dreary realms below.

ORESTES

Lady, whoe'er thou art, why for these things Dost thou lament? why mourn for ills, which soon Will fall on us? Him I esteem unwise, Who, when he sees death near, tries to o'ercome Its terrors with bewailings, without hope Of safety: ill he adds to ill, and makes His folly known, yet dies. We must give way To fortune; therefore mourn not thou for us: We know, we are acquainted with your rites.

IPHIGENIA

Which of you by the name of Pylades Is call'd? This first it is my wish to know.

ORESTES

If aught of pleasure that may give thee, he.

IPHIGENIA

A native of what Grecian state, declare.

ORESTES

What profit knowing this wouldst thou obtain?

IPHIGENIA

And are you brothers, of one mother born?

ORESTES

Brothers by friendship, lady, not by birth.

IPHIGENIA

To thee what name was by thy father given?

ORESTES

With just cause I Unhappy might be call'd.

IPHIGENIA

I ask not that; to fortune that ascribe.

ORESTES

Dying unknown, rude scoffs I shall avoid.

IPHIGENIA

Wilt thou refuse? Why are thy thoughts so high?

ORESTES

My body thou mayst kill, but not my name.

IPHIGENIA

Wilt thou not say a native of what state?

ORESTES

The question naught avails, since I must die.

IPHIGENIA

What hinders thee from granting me this grace?

ORESTES

The illustrious Argos I my country boast.

IPHIGENIA

By the gods, stranger, is thy birth from thence?

ORESTES

My birth is from Mycenae, once the bless'd.

IPHIGENIA

Dost thou an exile fly, or by what fate?

ORESTES

Of my free will, in part not free, I fly.

IPHIGENIA

Wilt thou then tell me what I wish to know?

ORESTES

Whate'er is foreign to my private griefs.

IPHIGENIA

To my dear wish from Argos art thou come.

ORESTES

Not to my wish; but if to thine, enjoy it.

IPHIGENIA

Troy, whose fame spreads so wide, perchance thou know'st.

ORESTES

O that I ne'er had known her, ev'n in dreams!

IPHIGENIA

They say she is no more, by war destroy'd.

ORESTES

It is so: you have heard no false reports.

IPHIGENIA

Is Helena with Menelaus return'd?

ORESTES

She is; and one I love her coming rues.

IPHIGENIA

Where is she? Me too she of old hath wrong'd.

ORESTES

At Sparta with her former lord she dwells.

IPHIGENIA

By Greece, and not by me alone abhorr'd!

ORESTES

I from her nuptials have my share of grief.

IPHIGENIA

And are the Greeks, as Fame reports, return'd?

ORESTES

How briefly all things dost thou ask at once!

IPHIGENIA

This favour, ere thou die, I wish to obtain.

ORESTES

Ask, then: since such thy wish, I will inform thee.

IPHIGENIA

Calchas, a prophet,-came he back from Troy?

ORESTES

He perish'd at Mycenae such the fame.

IPHIGENIA

Goddess revered! But doth Ulysses live?

ORESTES

He lives, they say, but is not yet return'd.

IPHIGENIA

Perish the wretch, nor see his country more!

ORESTES

Wish him not ill, for all with him is ill.

IPHIGENIA

But doth the son of sea-born Thetis live?

ORESTES

He lives not: vain his nuptial rites at Aulis.

IPHIGENIA

That all was fraud, as those who felt it say.

ORESTES

But who art thou, inquiring thus of Greece?

IPHIGENIA

I am from thence, in early youth undone.

ORESTES

Thou hast a right to inquire what there hath pass'd.

IPHIGENIA

What know'st thou of the chief, men call the bless'd?

ORESTES

Who? Of the bless'd was not the chief I knew.

IPHIGENIA

The royal Agamemnon, son of Atreus.

ORESTES

Of him I know not, lady; cease to ask.

IPHIGENIA

Nay, by the gods, tell me, and cheer my soul.

ORESTES

He's dead, the unhappy chief: no single ill.

IPHIGENIA

Dead! By what adverse fate? O wretched me!

ORESTES

Why mourn for this? How doth it touch thy breast?

IPHIGENIA

The glories of his former state I mourn.

ORESTES

Dreadfully murdered by a woman's hand.

IPHIGENIA

How wretched she that slew him, he thus slain!

ORESTES

Now then forbear: of him inquire no more.

IPHIGENIA

This only: lives the unhappy monarch's wife?

ORESTES

She, lady, is no more, slain by her son.

IPHIGENIA

Alas, the ruin'd house! What his intent?

ORESTES

To avenge on her his noble father slain.

IPHIGENIA

An ill, but righteous deed, how justly done!

ORESTES

Though righteous, by the gods be is not bless'd.

IPHIGENIA

Hath Agamemnon other offspring left?

ORESTES

He left one virgin daughter, named Electra.

IPHIGENIA

Of her that died a victim is aught said?

ORESTES

This only, dead, she sees the light no more.

IPHIGENIA

Unhappy she! the father too who slew her!

ORESTES

For a bad woman she unseemly died.

IPHIGENIA

At Argos lives the murdered father's son?

ORESTES

Nowhere he lives, poor wretch! and everywhere.

IPHIGENIA

False dreams, farewell; for nothing you import.

ORESTES

Nor are those gods, that have the name of wise, Less false than fleeting dreams. In things divine, And in things human, great confusion reigns. One thing is left; that, not unwise of soul, Obedient to the prophet's voice he perish'd; For that he perish'd, they who know report.

LEADER

What shall we know, what of our parents know? If yet they live or not, who can inform us?

IPHIGENIA

Hear me: this converse prompts a thought, which gives Promise of good, ye youths of Greece, to you, To these, and me: thus may it well be done, If, willing to my purpose, all assent. Wilt thou, if I shall save thee, go for me A messenger to Argos, to my friends Charged with a letter, which a captive wrote, Who pitied me, nor murderous thought my hand, But that he died beneath the law, these rites The goddess deeming just? for from that hour I have not found who might to Argos bear Himself my message, back with life return'd, Or send to any of my friends my letter. Thou, therefore, since it seems thou dost not bear Ill-will to me, and dost Mycenae know, And those I wish to address, be safe, and live, No base reward for a light letter, life Receiving; and let him, since thus the state Requires, without thee to the goddess bleed.

ORESTES

Virgin unknown, well hast thou said in all Save this, that to the goddess he should bleed A victim; that were heavy grief indeed. I steer'd the vessel to these ills; he sail'd Attendant on my toils: to gain thy grace By his destruction, and withdraw myself From sufferings, were unjust: thus let it be: Give him the letter; to fulfil thy wish, To Argos he will bear it: me let him Who claims that office, slay: base is his soul, Who in calamities involves his friends, And saves himself; this is a friend, whose life, Dear to me as my own, I would preserve.

IPHIGENIA

Excellent spirit! from some noble root It shows thee sprung, and to thy friends a friend Sincere; of those that share my blood if one Remains, such may he be! for I am not Without a brother, strangers, from my sight Though distant now. Since then thy wish is such, Him will I send to Argos; he shall bear My letter; thou shalt die; for this desire Hath strong possession of thy noble soul.

ORESTES

Who then shall do the dreadful deed, and slay me?

IPHIGENIA

I: to atone the goddess is my charge.

ORESTES

A charge unenvied, virgin, and unbless'd.

IPHIGENIA

Necessity constrains: I must obey.

ORESTES

Wilt thou, a woman, plunge the sword in men?

IPHIGENIA

No: but thy locks to sprinkle round is mine.

ORESTES

Whose then, if I may ask, the bloody deed?

IPHIGENIA

To some within the temple this belongs.

ORESTES

What tomb is destined to receive my corse?

IPHIGENIA

The hallow'd fire within, and a dark cave.

ORESTES

O, that a sister's hand might wrap these limbs!

IPHIGENIA

Vain wish, unhappy youth, whoe'er thou art, Hast thou conceived; for from this barbarous land Far is her dwelling. Yet, of what my power Permits (since thou from Argos draw'st thy birth), No grace will I omit: for in the tomb I will place much of ornament, and pour The dulcet labour of the yellow bee, From mountain flowers extracted, on thy pyre. But I will go, and from the temple bring The letter; yet 'gainst me no hostile thought Conceive. You, that attend here, guard them well, But without chains. To one, whom most I love Of all my friends, to Argos I shall send Tidings perchance unlook'd for; and this letter, Declaring those whom he thought dead alive, Shall bear him an assured and solid joy.

(She enters the temple.)

CHORUS (chanting)

Thee, o'er whose limbs the bloody drops shall soon Be from the lavers sprinkled, I lament.

ORESTES

This asks no pity, strangers: but farewell.

CHORUS (chanting)

Thee for thy happy fate we reverence, youth Who to thy country shall again return.

PYLADES

To friends unwish'd, who leave their friends to die.

CHORUS (chanting)

Painful dismission! Which shall I esteem Most lost, alas, alas! which most undone? For doubts my wavering judgment yet divide, If chief for thee my sighs should swell, or thee.

ORESTES

By the gods, Pylades, is thy mind touch'd In manner like as mine?

PYLADES

I cannot tell; Nor to thy question have I to reply.

ORESTES

Who is this virgin? With what zeal for Greece Made she inquiries of us what the toils At Troy, if yet the Grecians were return'd, And Calchas, from the flight of birds who form'd Presages of the future. And she named Achilles: with what tenderness bewail'd The unhappy Agamemnon! Of his wife She ask'd me,-of his children: thence her race This unknown virgin draws, an Argive; else Ne'er would she send this letter, nor have wish'd To know these things, as if she bore a share
(If Argos flourish) in its prosperous state.

PYLADES

Such were my thoughts (but thou hast given them words, Preventing me) of every circumstance, Save one: the fate of kings all know, whose state Holds aught of rank. But pass to other thoughts.

ORESTES

What? Share them; so thou best mayst be inform'd.

PYLADES

That thou shouldst die, and I behold this light, Were base: with thee I sail'd, with thee to die Becomes me; else shall I obtain the name Of a vile coward through the Argive state, And the deep vales of Phocis. Most will think
(For most think ill) that by betraying the I saved myself, home to return alone; Or haply that I slew thee, and thy death Contrived, that in the ruin of thy house Thy empire I might grasp, to me devolved As wedded to thy sister, now sole heir. These things I fear, and hold them infamous. Behooves me then with thee to die, with the To bleed a victim, on the pyre with thine To give my body to the flames; for this Becomes me as thy friend. who dreads reproach.

ORESTES

Speak more auspicious words: 'tis mine to bear Ills that are mine; and single when the wo, I would not bear it double. What thou say'st Is vile and infamous, would light on me, Should I cause thee to die, who in my toils Hast borne a share: to me, who from the gods Suffer afflictions which I suffer, death Is not unwelcome: thou art happy, thine An unpolluted and a prosperous house; Mine impious and unbless'd: if thou art saved, And from my sister (whom I gave to thee, Betroth'd thy bride) art bless'd with sons, my name May yet remain, nor all my father's house In total ruin sink. Go then, and live: Dwell in the mansion of thy ancestors: And when thou comest to Greece, to Argos famed For warrior-steeds, by this right hand I charge the Raise a sepulchral mound, and on it place A monument to me; and to my tomb Her tears, her tresses let my sister give; And say, that by an Argive woman's hand I perish'd, to the altar's bloody rites A hallow'd victim. Never let thy soul Betray my sister, for thou seest her state, Of friends how destitute, her father's house How desolate. Farewell. Of all my friends, Thee have I found most friendly, from my youth Train'd up with me, in all my sylvan sports Thou dear associate, and through many toils Thou faithful partner of my miseries. Me Phoebus, though a prophet, hath deceived, And, meditating guile, hath driven me far From Greece, of former oracles ashamed; To him resign'd, obedient to his words, I slew my mother, and my meed is death.

PYLADES

Yes, I will raise thy tomb: thy sister's bed I never will betray, unhappy youth, For I will hold thee dearer when thou art dead, Than while thou livest; nor hath yet the voice Of Phoebus quite destroy'd thee, though thou stand To sometimes mighty but sometimes mighty woes Yield mighty changes, so when Fortune wills.

ORESTES

Forbear: the words of Phoebus naught avail me; For, passing from the shrine, the virgin comes.

(IPHIGENIA enters from the temple. She is carrying a letter.)

IPHIGENIA (to the guards)

Go you away, and in the shrine prepare What those, who o'er the rites preside, require.

(The guards go into the temple.)

Here, strangers, is the letter folded close: What I would further, hear. The mind of man In dangers, and again, from fear relieved, Of safety when assured, is not the same: I therefore fear lest he, who should convey To Argos this epistle, when return'd Safe to his native country, will neglect My letter, as a thing of little worth.

ORESTES

What wouldst thou then? What is thy anxious thought?

IPHIGENIA

This: let him give an oath that he will bear To Argos this epistle to those friends, To whom it is my ardent wish to send it.

ORESTES

And wilt thou in return give him thy oath?

IPHIGENIA

That I will do, or will not do, say what.

ORESTES

To send him from this barbarous shore alive.

IPHIGENIA

That's just: how should he bear my letter else?

ORESTES

But will the monarch to these things assent?

IPHIGENIA

By me induced. Him I will see embark'd.

ORESTES

Swear then; and thou propose the righteous oath.

IPHIGENIA

This, let him say, he to my friends will give.

PYLADES

Well, to thy friends this letter I will give.

IPHIGENIA

Thee will I send safe through the darkening rocks.

PYLADES

What god dost thou invoke to attest thy oath?

IPHIGENIA

Diana, at whose shrine high charge I hold.

PYLADES

And I heaven's potent king, the awful Jove.

IPHIGENIA

But if thou slight thy oath, and do me wrong?

PYLADES

Never may I return. But if thou fail, And save me not?

IPHIGENIA

Then never, while I live, May I revisit my loved Argos more!

PYLADES

One thing, not mention'd, thy attention claims.

IPHIGENIA

If honour owes it, this will touch us both.

PYLADES

Let me in this be pardon'd, if the bark Be lost, and with it in the surging waves Thy letter perish, and I naked gain The shore; no longer binding be the oath.

IPHIGENIA

Know'st thou what I will do? For various ills Arise to those that plough the dangerous deep. What in this letter is contain'd, what here Is written, all I will repeat to thee, That thou mayst bear my message to my friends. 'Gainst danger thus I guard: if thou preserve The letter, that though silent will declare My purport; if it perish in the sea, Saving thyself, my words too thou wilt save.

PYLADES

Well hast thou said touching the gods and me. Say then to whom at Argos shall I bear This letter? What relate as heard from thee?

IPHIGENIA (reading)

This message to Orestes, to the son Of Agamemnon, bear:-She, who was slain At Aulis, Iphigenia, sends thee this: She lives, but not to those who then were there.

ORESTES

Where is she? From the dead return'd to life?

IPHIGENIA

She whom thou seest: but interrupt me not. To Argos, O my brother, ere I die, Bear me from this barbaric land, and far Remove me from this altar's bloody rites, At which to slay the stranger is my charge.-

ORESTES

What shall I say? Where are we, Pylades?

IPHIGENIA

Or on thy house for vengeance will I call, Orestes. Twice repeated, learn the name.

ORESTES

Ye gods!

IPHIGENIA

In my cause why invoke the gods?

ORESTES

Nothing: proceed: my thoughts were wandering wide: Strange things of thee unask'd I soon shall learn.

IPHIGENIA

Tell him the goddess saved me, in exchange A hind presenting, which my father slew A victim, deeming that he plunged his sword Deep in my breast: me in this land she placed. Thou hast my charge: and this my letter speaks.

PYLADES

O, thou hast bound me with an easy oath: What I have sworn with honest purpose, long Defer I not, but thus discharge mine oath. To thee a letter from thy sister, lo, I bear, Orestes; and I give it thee.

(PYLADES hands the letter to ORESTES.)

ORESTES

I do receive it, but forbear to unclose its foldings, greater pleasure first to enjoy Than words can give. My sister, O most dear, Astonish'd ev'n to disbelief, I throw Mine arms around thee with a fond embrace, In transport at the wondrous things I hear.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Stranger, thou dost not well with hands profane Thus to pollute the priestess of the shrine, Grasping her garments hallow'd from the touch.

ORESTES

My sister, my dear sister, from one sire, From Agamemnon sprung, turn not away, Holding thy brother thus beyond all hope.

IPHIGENIA

My brother! Thou my brother! Wilt thou not Unsay these words? At Argos far he dwells.

ORESTES

Thy brother, O unhappy! is not there.

IPHIGENIA

Thee did the Spartan Tyndarus bring forth?

ORESTES

And from the son of Pelops' son I sprung,

IPHIGENIA

What say'st thou? Canst thou give me proof of this?

ORESTES

I can: ask something of my father's house.

IPHIGENIA

Nay, it is thine to speak, mine to attend.

ORESTES

First let me mention things which I have heard Electra speak: to thee is known the strife Which fierce 'twixt Atreus and Thyestes rose.

IPHIGENIA

Yes, I have heard it; for the golden ram,-

ORESTES

In the rich texture didst thou not inweave it?

IPHIGENIA

O thou most dear! Thou windest near my heart.

ORESTES

And image in the web the averted sun?

IPHIGENIA

In the fine threads that figure did I work.

ORESTES

For Aulis did thy mother bathe thy limbs?

IPHIGENIA

I know it, to unlucky spousals led.

ORESTES

Why to thy mother didst thou send thy locks?

IPHIGENIA

Devoted for my body to the tomb.

ORESTES

What I myself have seen I now as proofs Will mention. In thy father's house, hung high Within thy virgin chambers, the old spear Of Pelops, which he brandish'd when he slew Oenomaus, and won his beauteous bride, The virgin Hippodamia, Pisa's boast.

IPHIGENIA

O thou most dear (for thou art he), most dear Acknowledged, thee, Orestes, do I hold, From Argos, from thy country distant far?

ORESTES

And hold I thee, my sister, long deem'd dead? Grief mix'd with joy, and tears, not taught by woe To rise, stand melting in thy eyes and mine.

IPHIGENIA

Thee yet an infant in thy nurse's arms I left, a babe I left thee in the house. Thou art more happy, O my soul, than speech Knows to express. What shall I say? 'tis all Surpassing wonder and the power of words.

ORESTES

May we together from this hour be bless'd!

IPHIGENIA

An unexpected pleasure, O my friends, Have I received; yet fear I from my hands Lest to the air it fly. O sacred hearths Raised by the Cyclops! O my country, loved Mycenae! Now that thou didst give me birth, T thank thee; now I thank thee, that my youth Thou trainedst, since my brother thou has train'd, A beam of light, the glory of his house.

ORESTES

We in our race are happy; but our life, My sister, by misfortunes is unhappy.

IPHIGENIA

I was, I know, unhappy, when the sword My father, frantic, pointed at my neck.

ORESTES

Ah me! methinks ev'n now I see thee there.

IPHIGENIA

When to Achilles, brother, not a bride, I to the sacrifice by guile was led, And tears and groans the altar compass'd round.

ORESTES

Alas, the lavers there!

IPHIGENIA

I mourn'd the deed My father dared; unlike a father's love; Cruel, unlike a father's love, to me.

ORESTES

Ill deeds succeed to ill: if thou hadst slain Thy brother, by some god impell'd, what griefs Must have been thine at such a dreadful deed!

IPHIGENIA (chanting)

Dreadful my brother, O how dreadful! scarce Hast thou escaped a foul, unhallow'd death, Slain by my hands. But how will these things end? What Fortune will assist me? What safe means Shall I devise to send thee from this state, From slaughter, to thy native land, to Argos, Ere with thy blood the cruel sword be stain'd? This to devise, O my unhappy soul! This to devise is thine. Wilt thou by land, Thy bark deserted, speed thy flight on foot? Perils await thee mid these barbarous tribes, Through pathless wilds; and 'twixt the clashing rocks, Narrow the passage for the flying bark, And long. Unhappy, ah, unhappy me! What god, what mortal, what unlook'd-for chance Will expedite our dangerous way, and show Two sprung from Atreus a release from ills?

LEADER

What having seen and heard I shall relate, Is marvellous, and passes fabling tales.

PYLADES

When after absence long, Orestes, friend Meets friend, embraces will express their joy. Behooves us now, bidding farewell to grief, And heedful to obtain the glorious name Of safety, from this barbarous land to fly. The wise, of fortune not regardless, seize The occasion, and to happiness advance.

ORESTES

Well hast thou said; and Fortune here, I ween, Will aid us; to the firm and strenuous mind More potent works the influence divine.

IPHIGENIA

Nothing shall check, nothing restrain my speech: First will I question thee what fortune waits Electra: this to know would yield me joy.

ORESTES

With him (pointing to Pylades) she dwells, and happy is her life,

IPHIGENIA

Whence then is he? and from what father sprung?

ORESTES

From Phocis: Strophius is his father named.

IPHIGENIA

By Atreus' daughter to my blood allied?

ORESTES

Nearly allied: my only faithful friend.

IPHIGENIA

He was not then, me when my father slew.

ORESTES

Childless was Strophius for some length of time.

IPHIGENIA

O thou, the husband of my sister, hail

ORESTES

More than relation, my preserver too.

IPHIGENIA

But to thy mother why that dreadful deed?

ORESTES

Of that no more: to avenge my father's death.

IPHIGENIA

But for what cause did she her husband slay?

ORESTES

Of her inquire not: thou wouldst blush to hear.

IPHIGENIA

The eyes of Argos now are raised to thee.

ORESTES

There Menelaus is lord; I, outcast, fly.

IPHIGENIA

Hath he then wrong'd his brother's ruin'd house?

ORESTES

Not so: the Furies fright me from the land.

IPHIGENIA

The madness this, which seized thee on the shore?

ORESTES

I was not first beheld unhappy there.

IPHIGENIA

Stern powers! they haunt thee for thy mother's blood.

ORESTES

And ruthless make me champ the bloody bit.

IPHIGENIA

Why to this region has thou steer'd thy course?

ORESTES

Commanded by Apollo's voice, I come.

IPHIGENIA

With what intent? if that may be disclosed.

ORESTES

I will inform thee, though to length of speech This leads. When vengeance from my hands o'ertook My mother's deeds-foul deeds, which let me pass In silence-by the Furies' fierce assaults To flight I was impell'd: to Athens then Apollo sent me, that, my cause there heard, I might appease the vengeful powers, whose names May not be utter'd: the tribunal there Is holy, which for Mars, when stain'd with blood, Jove in old times establish'd. There arrived, None willingly received me, by the gods As one abhorr'd; and they, who felt the touch Of shame, the hospitable board alone Yielded; and though one common roof beneath, Their silence showing they disdain'd to hold Converse with me, I took from them apart A lone repast; to each was placed a bowl Of the same measure; this they filled with wine, And bathed their spirits in delight. Unmeet I deem'd it to express offence at those Who entertain'd me, but in silence grieved, Showing a cheer as though I mark'd it not, And sigh'd for that I shed my mother's blood. A feast, I hear, at Athens is ordain'd From this my evil plight, ev'n yet observed, In which the equal-measured bowl then used Is by that people held in honour high. But when to the tribunal on the mount Of Mars I came, one stand I took, and one The eldest of the Furies opposite: The cause was heard touching my mother's blood, And Phoebus saved me by his evidence: Equal, by Pallas number'd, were the votes And I from doom of blood victorious freed Such of the Furies as there sat, appeased By the just sentence, nigh the court resolved To fix their seat; but others, whom the law Appeased not, with relentless tortures still Pursued me, till I reach'd the hallow'd soil Of Phoebus: stretch'd before his shrine, I swore Foodless to waste my wretched life away, Unless the god, by whom I was undone, Would save me: from the golden tripod burst The voice divine, and sent me to this shore, Commanding me to bear the image hence, Which fell from Jove, and in the Athenian land To fix it. What the oracular voice assign'd My safety, do thou aid: if we obtain The statue of the goddess, I no more With madness shall be tortured, but this arm Shall place thee in my bark, which ploughs the waves With many an oar, and to Mycenae safe Bear thee again. Show then a sister's love, O thou most dear; preserve thy father's house, Preserve me too; for me destruction waits, And all the race of Pelops, if we bear not This heaven-descended image from the shrine.

LEADER

The anger of the gods hath raged severe, And plunged the race of Tantalus in woes.

IPHIGENIA

Ere thy arrival here, a fond desire To be again at Argos, and to see Thee, my loved brother, fill'd my soul. Thy wish Is my warm wish, to free thee from thy toils, And from its ruins raise my father's house; Nor harbour I 'gainst him, that slew me, thought Of harsh resentment: from thy blood my hands Would I keep pure, thy house I would preserve. But from the goddess how may this be hid? The tyrant too I fear, when he shall find The statue on its marble base no more. What then from death will save me? What excuse Shall I devise? Yet by one daring deed Might these things be achieved: couldst thou bear hence The image, me too in thy gallant bark Placing secure, how glorious were the attempt! Me if thou join not with thee, I am lost Indeed; but thou, with prudent measures form'd, Return. I fly no danger, not ev'n death, Be death required, to save thee: no: the man Dying is mourn'd, as to his house a loss; But woman's weakness is of light esteem.

ORESTES

I would not be the murderer of my mother, And of thee too; sufficient is her blood. No; I will share thy fortune, live with thee, Or with thee die: to Argos I will lead thee, If here I perish not; or dying, here Remain with thee. But what my mind suggests, Hear: if Diana were averse to this, How could the voice of Phoebus from his shrine Declare that to the state of Pallas hence The statue of the goddess I should bear, And see thy face? All this, together weigh'd, Gives hope of fair success, and our return.

IPHIGENIA

But how effect it, that we neither die, And what we wish achieve? For our return On this depends: this claims deliberate thought.

ORESTES

Have we not means to work the tyrant's death?

IPHIGENIA

For strangers full of peril were the attempt.

ORESTES

Thee would it save and me, it must be dared.

IPHIGENIA

I could not: yet thy promptness I approve.

ORESTES

What if thou lodge me in the shrine conceal'd?

IPHIGENIA

That in the shades of night we may escape?

ORESTES

Night is a friend to frauds, the light to truth.

IPHIGENIA

Within are sacred guards; we 'scape not them.

ORESTES

Ruin then waits us: how can we be saved?

IPHIGENIA

I think I have some new and safe device.

ORESTES

What is it? Let me know: impart thy thought,

IPHIGENIA

Thy sufferings for my purpose I will use,-

ORESTES

To form devices quick is woman's wit.

IPHIGENIA

And say, thy mother slain, thou fledd'st from Argos.

ORESTES

If to aught good, avail thee of my ills.

IPHIGENIA

Unmeet then at this shrine to offer thee.

ORESTES

What cause alleged? I reach not thine intent.

IPHIGENIA

As now impure: when hallow'd, I will slay thee.

ORESTES

How is the image thus more promptly gain'd?

IPHIGENIA

Thee I will hallow in the ocean waves.

ORESTES

The statue we would gain is in the temple.

IPHIGENIA

That, by thy touch polluted, I would cleanse.

ORESTES

Where? On the watery margin of the main?

IPHIGENIA

Where thy tall bark secured with cables rides.

ORESTES

And who shall bear the image in his hands?

IPHIGENIA

Myself; profaned by any touch, but mine.

ORESTES

What of this blood shall on my friend be charged?

IPHIGENIA

His hands, it shall be said, like thine are stain'd.

ORESTES

In secret this, or to the king disclosed?

IPHIGENIA

With his assent; I cannot hide it from him.

ORESTES

My bark with ready oars attends thee near.

IPHIGENIA

That all be well appointed, be thy charge.

ORESTES

One thing alone remains; that these conceal Our purpose: but address them, teach thy tongue Persuasive words: a woman hath the power To melt the heart to pity: thus perchance All things may to our warmest wish succeed.

IPHIGENIA

Ye train of females, to my soul most dear, On you mine eyes are turn'd, on you depends My fate; with prosperous fortune to be bless'd, Or to be nothing, to my country lost, Of a dear kinsman and a much-loved brother Deprived. This plea I first would urge, that we Are women, and have hearts by nature form'd To love each other, of our mutual trusts Most firm preservers. Touching our design, Be silent, and assist our flight: naught claims More honour than the faithful tongue. You see How the same fortune links us three, most dear Each to the other, to revisit safe Our country, or to die. If I am saved, That thou mayst share my fortune, I to Greece Will bring thee safe: but thee by this right hand, Thee I conjure, and thee; by this loved cheek Thee, by thy knees, by all that in your house Is dearest to you, father, mother, child, If you have children. What do you reply? Which of you speaks assent? Or which dissents? But be you all assenting: for my plea If you approve not, ruin falls on me, And my unhappy brother too must die.

LEADER

Be confident, loved lady and consult Only thy safety: all thou givest in charge, Be witness, mighty Jove, I will conceal.

IPHIGENIA

O, for this generous promise be you bless'd.

(To ORESTES and PYLADES)

To enter now the temple be thy part, And thine: for soon the monarch of the land Will come, inquiring if the strangers yet Have bow'd their necks as victims at the shrine. Goddess revered, who in the dreadful bay Of Aulis from my father's slaughtering hand Didst save me; save me now, and these: through thee, Else will the voice of Phoebus be no more Held true by mortals. From this barbarous land To Athens go propitious: here to dwell Beseems thee not; thine be a polish'd state!

(ORESTES, PYLADES, and IPHIGENIA enter the temple.)

CHORUS (singing)

O bird, that round each craggy height Projecting o'er the sea below, Wheelest thy melancholy flight, Thy song attuned to notes of woe; The wise thy tender sorrows own, Which thy lost lord unceasing moan; Like thine, sad halcyon, be my strain, A bird, that have no wings to fly: With fond desire for Greece I sigh, And for my much-loved social train; Sigh for Diana, pitying maid, Who joys to rove o'er Cynthus' heights. Or in the branching laurel's shade, Or in the soft-hair'd palm delights, Or the hoar olive's sacred boughs, Lenient of sad Latona's woes; Or in the lake, that rolls its wave Where swans their plumage love to lave; Then, to the Muses soaring high, The homage pay of melody. Ye tears, what frequent-falling showers Roll'd down these cheeks in streams of woe, When in the dust my country's towers Lay levell'd by the conquering foe; And, to their spears a prey, their oars Brought me to these barbaric shores! For gold exchanged, a traffic base, No vulgar slave, the task is mine, Here at Diana's awful shrine, Who loves the woodland hind to chase, The virgin priestess to attend, Daughter of rich Mycenae's lord; At other shrines her wish to bend, Where bleeds the victim less abhorr'd: No respite to her griefs she knows; Not so the heart inured to woes, As train'd to sorrow's rigid lore: Now comes a change; it mourns no more: But lo long bliss when ill succeeds, The anguish'd heart for ever bleeds. Thee, loved virgin, freed from fear Home the Argive bark shall bear: Mountain Pan, with thrilling strain, To the oars that dash the main In just cadence well agreed, Shall accord his wax-join'd reed: Phoebus, with a prophet's fire Sweeping o'er his seven-string'd lyre, And his voice attuning high To the swelling harmony, Thee shall guide the wild waves o'er To the soft Athenian shore. Leaving me, thy oars shall sweep Eager o'er the foaming deep: Thou shalt catch the rising gales Swelling in thy firm-bound sails; And thy bark in gallant pride Light shall o'er the billows glide. Might I through the lucid air Fly where rolls yon flaming car, O'er those loved and modest bowers, Where I pass'd my youthful hours, I would stay my weary flight, Wave no more my pennons light, But, amid the virgin band, Once my loved companions, stand: Once mid them my charms could move, Blooming then, the flames of love; When the mazy dance I trod, While with joy my mother glow'd; When to vie in grace was mine, And in splendid robes to shine; For, with radiant tints impress'd, Glow'd for me the gorgeous vest; And these tresses gave new grace, As their ringlets shade my face.

(THOAS and his retinue enter.)

THOAS

Where is the Grecian lady, to whose charge This temple is committed? Have her rites Hallow'd the strangers? Do their bodies burn In the recesses of the sacred shrine?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

She comes, and will inform thee, king, of all.

(IPHIGENIA comes out of the temple. She is carrying the sacred statue of Diana.)

THOAS

Daughter of Agamemnon, what means this? The statue of the goddess in thine arms Why dost thou bear, from its firm base removed?

IPHIGENIA

There in the portal, monarch, stay thy step.

THOAS

What of strange import in the shrine hath chanced?

IPHIGENIA

Things ominous: that word I, holy, speak.

THOAS

To what is tuned thy proem? Plainly speak.

IPHIGENIA

Not pure the victims, king, you lately seized.

THOAS

What showd thee this? Or speak'st thou but thy thought?

IPHIGENIA

Back turn'd the sacred image on its base.

THOAS

Spontaneous turn'd, or by an earthquake moved?

IPHIGENIA

Spontaneous, and, averted, closed its eyes.

THOAS

What was the cause? The blood-stain'd stranger's guilt?

IPHIGENIA

That, and naught else; for horrible their deeds.

THOAS

What, have they slain some Scythian on the shore?

IPHIGENIA

They came polluted with domestic blood.

THOAS

What blood? I have a strong desire to know.

IPHIGENIA

They slew their mother with confederate swords.

THOAS

O Phoebus! This hath no barbarian dared.

IPHIGENIA

All Greece indignant chased them from her realms.

THOAS

Bear'st thou for this the image from the shrine?

IPHIGENIA

To the pure air, from stain of blood removed.

THOAS

By what means didst thou know the stranger's guilt?

IPHIGENIA

I learn'd it as the statue started back.

THOAS

Greece train'd thee wise: this well hast thou discern'd.

IPHIGENIA

Now with sweet blandishments they soothe my soul.

THOAS

Some glozing tale from Argos telling thee?

IPHIGENIA

I have one brother: he, they say, lives happy,-

THOAS

That thou mayst save them for their pleasing news?

IPHIGENIA

And that my father lives, by fortune bless'd.

THOAS

But on the goddess well thy thoughts are turn'd.

IPHIGENIA

I hate all Greece; for it hath ruin'd me.

THOAS

What with the strangers, say then, should be done?

IPHIGENIA

The law ordain'd in reverence we must hold.

THOAS

Are then thy lavers ready, and the sword?

IPHIGENIA

First I would cleanse them with ablutions pure.

THOAS

In fountain waters, or the ocean wave?

IPHIGENIA

All man's pollutions doth the salt sea cleanse.

THOAS

More holy to the goddess will they bleed.

IPHIGENIA

And better what I have in charge advance.

THOAS

Doth not the wave ev'n 'gainst the temple beat?

IPHIGENIA

This requires solitude: more must I do.

THOAS

Lead where thou wilt: on secret rite I pry not.

IPHIGENIA

The image of the goddess I must cleanse.

THOAS

If it be stain'd with touch of mother's blood.

IPHIGENIA

I could not else have borne it from its base.

THOAS

Just is thy provident and pious thought; For this by all the state thou art revered.

IPHIGENIA

Know'st thou what next I would?

THOAS

'Tis thine thy will To signify.

IPHIGENIA

Give for these strangers chains.

THOAS

To what place can they fly?

IPHIGENIA

A Grecian knows Naught faithful.

THOAS

Of my train go some for chains.

(Some attendants go out.)

IPHIGENIA

Let them lead forth the strangers.

THOAS

Be it so,

IPHIGENIA

And veil their faces.

THOAS

From the sun's bright beams?

IPHIGENIA

Some of thy train send with me.

THOAS

These shall go, Attending thee.

IPHIGENIA

One to the city send.

THOAS

With what instructions charged?

IPHIGENIA

That all remain Within their houses.

THOAS

That the stain of blood They meet not?

IPHIGENIA

These things have pollution in them.

THOAS

Go thou, and bear the instructions.

(An attendant departs.)

IPHIGENIA

That none come In sight,

THOAS

How wisely careful for the city!

IPHIGENIA

Warn our friends most.

THOAS

This speaks thy care for me.

IPHIGENIA

Stay thou before the shrine.

THOAS

To what intent?

IPHIGENIA

Cleanse it with lustral fires.

THOAS

That thy return May find it pure?

IPHIGENIA

But when the strangers come Forth from the temple,-

THOAS

What must I then do?

IPHIGENIA

Spread o'er thine eyes a veil.

THOAS

That I receive not Pollution?

IPHIGENIA

Tedious if my stay appear,-

THOAS

What bounds may be assign'd?

IPHIGENIA

Deem it not strange.

THOAS

At leisure what the rites require perform.

IPHIGENIA

May this lustration as I wish succeed!

THOAS

Thy wish is mine.

(ORESTES and PYLADES, bound, are led from the temple in solemn procession by the guards. THOAS and his retinue veil their heads as it slowly moves past.)

IPHIGENIA (chanting)

But from the temple, see, The strangers come, the sacred ornaments, The hallow'd lambs-for I with blood must wash This execrable blood away,-the light Of torches, and what else my rites require To purify these strangers to the goddess. But to the natives of this land my voice Proclaims, from this pollution far remove, Art thou attendant at the shrine, who liftest Pure to the gods thy hands, or nuptial rites Dost thou prepare, or pregnant matron; hence, Begone, that this defilement none may touch. Thou, daughter of Latona and high Jove, O royal virgin, if I cleanse the stain Of these, and where I ought with holy rites Address thee, thou shalt hold thy residence In a pure mansion; we too shall be bless'd. More though I speak not, goddess, unexpress'd, All things to thee and to the gods are known.

(IPHIGENIA, carrying the statue, joins the procession as is goes out. THOAS and his retinue enter the temple.)

CHORUS (singing)

Latona's glorious offspring claims the song, Born the hallow'd shades among, Where fruitful Delos winds her valleys low; Bright-hair'd Phoebus, skill'd to inspire Raptures, as he sweeps the lyre, And she that glories in the unerring bow. From the rocky ridges steep, At whose feet the hush'd waves sleep, Left their far-famed native shore, Them the exulting mother bore To Parnassus, on whose heights Bacchus shouting holds his rites; Glittering in the burnish'd shade, By the laurel's branches made, Where the enormous dragon lies, Brass his scales, and flame his eyes, Earth-born monster, that around Rolling guards the oracular ground; Him, while yet a sportive child, In his mother's arms that smiled, Phoebus slew, and seized the shrine Whence proceeds the voice divine: On the golden tripod placed, Throne by falsehood ne'er disgraced, Where Castalia's pure stream flows, He the fates to mortal shows. But when Themis, whom of yore Earth, her fruitful mother, bore, From her hallow'd seat he drove, Earth to avenge her daughter strove, Forming visions of the night, Which, in rapt dreams hovering light, All that Time's dark volumes hold Might to mortal sense unfold, When in midnight's sable shades Sleep the silent couch invades: Thus did Earth her vengeance boast. His prophetic honours lost, Royal Phoebus speeds his flight To Olympus, on whose height At the throne of Jove he stands, Stretching forth his little hands, Suppliant that the Pythian shrine Feel no more the wrath divine; That the goddess he appease; That her nightly visions cease. Jove with smiles beheld his son Early thus address his throne, Suing with ambitious pride O'er the rich shrine to preside; He, assenting, bow'd his head. Straight the nightly visions fled; And prophetic dreams no more Hover'd slumbering mortals o'er: Now to Phoebus given again, All his honours pure remain; Votaries distant regions send His frequented throne to attend: And the firm decrees of fate On his faithful voice await.

(A MESSENGER enters.)

MESSENGER

Say you, that keep the temple, and attend The altar, where is Thoas, Scythia's king? Open these strong-compacted gates, and cal Forth from the shrine the monarch of the land.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Wherefore? at thy command if I must speak.

MESSENGER

The two young men are gone, through the device Of Agamemnon's daughter: from this land They fly; and, in their Grecian galley placed, The sacred image of the goddess bear.

LEADER

Incredible thy tale: but whom thou seek'st, The monarch, from the temple went in haste.

MESSENGER

Whither? for what is doing he should know.

LEADER

We know not: but go thou, and seek for him: Where'er thou find him, thou wilt tell him this.

MESSENGER

See, what a faithless race you women are! In all that hath been done you have a part.

LEADER

Sure thou art mad! what with the strangers' flight Have we to do? But wilt thou not, with all The speed thou mayst, go to the monarch's house?

MESSENGER

Not till I first am well inform'd, if here Within the temple be the king, or not.

(Shouting)

Unbar the gates (to you within I speak); And tell your lord that at the portal here I stand, and bring him tidings of fresh ills.

(THOAS and his attendants enter from the temple.)

THOAS

Who at the temple of the goddess dares This clamour raise, and, thundering at the gates, Strikes terror through the ample space within?

MESSENGER

With falsehoods would these women drive me hence, Without to seek thee: thou wast in the shrine.

THOAS

With what intent? or what advantage sought?

MESSENGER

Of these hereafter; what more urgent now Imports thee, hear: the virgin, in this place Presiding at the altars, from this land Is with the strangers fled, and bears with her The sacred image of the goddess; all Of her ablutions but a false pretence.

THOAS

How say'st thou? What is her accursed design?

MESSENGER

To save Orestes: this too will amaze thee.

THOAS

Whom? What Orestes? Clytemnestra's son?

MESSENGER

Him at the altar hallow'd now to bleed.

THOAS

Portentous! for what less can it be call'd?

MESSENGER

Think not on that, but hear me; with deep thought Reflect: weigh well what thou shalt hear; devise By what pursuit to reach and seize the strangers.

THOAS

Speak: thou advisest well: the sea though nigh, They fly not so as to escape my spear.

MESSENGER

When to the shore we came, where station'd rode The galley of Orestes, by the rocks Conceal'd to us, whom thou hadst sent with her To hold the strangers' chains, the royal maid Made signs that we retire, and stand aloof, As if with secret rites she would perform The purposed expiation: on she went, In her own hands holding the strangers' chains Behind them: not without suspicion-this, Yet by thy servants, king, allow'd. At length, That we might deem her in some purpose high Employ'd, she raised her voice, and chanted loud Barbaric strains, as if with mystic rites She cleansed the stain of blood. When we had sat A tedious while, it came into our thought, That from their chains unloosed, the stranger youths Might kill her, and escape by flight: yet fear Of seeing what we ought not, kept us still In silence; but at length we all resolved To go, though not permitted, where they were. There we behold the Grecian bark with oars Well furnish'd, wing'd for flight; and at their seats, Grasping their oars, were fifty rowers; free From chains beside the stern the two youths stood Some from the prow relieved the keel with poles; Some weigh'd the anchors up; the climbing ropes Some hasten'd, through their hands the cables drew, Launch'd the light bark, and gave her to the main. But when we saw their treacherous wiles, we rush'd Heedless of danger, seized the priestess, seized The halsers, hung upon the helm, and strove To rend the rudder-bands away. Debate Now rose:-"What mean you, sailing o'er the seas, The statue and the priestess from the land By stealth conveying? Whence art thou, and who, That bear'st her, like a purchased slave, away?" He said, "I am her brother; be of this Inform'd; Orestes, son of Agamemnon: My sister, so long lost, I bear away, Recover'd here." But naught the less for that Held we the priestess, and by force would lead Again to thee: hence dreadful on our cheeks The blows; for in their hands no sword they held, Nor we; but many a rattling stroke the youths Dealt witb their fists, against our sides and breasts Their arms fierce darting, till our batter'd limbs Were all disabled: now with dreadful marks Disfigured, up the precipice we fly, Some bearing on their heads, some in their eyes The bloody bruises: standing on the heights, Our fight was safer, and we hurl'd at them Fragments of rocks; but, standing on the stern, The archers with their arrows drove us thence; And now a swelling wave roll'd in, which drove The galley towards the land. The sailors fear'd The sudden swell: on his left arm sustain'd, Orestes bore his sister through the tide, Mounted the bark's tall side, and on the deck Safe placed her, and Diana's holy image, Which fell from heaven; from the midship his voice He sent aloud:-"Ye youths, that in this bark From Argos plough'd the deep, now ply your oars, And dash the billows till they foam: those things Are ours, for which we swept the Euxine sea. And steer'd our course within its clashing rocks." They gave a cheerful shout, and with their oars Dash'd the salt wave. The galley, while it rode Within the harbour, work'd its easy way; But having pass'd its mouth, the swelling flood Roll'd on it, and with sudden force the wind Impetuous rising drove it back: their oars They slack'd not, stoutly struggling 'gainst the wave; But towards the land the refluent flood impell'd The galley: then the royal virgin stood, And pray'd:-"O daughter of Latona, save me, Thy priestess save; from this barbaric land To Greece restore me, and forgive my thefts: For thou, O goddess, dost thy brother love, Deem then that I love those allied to me." The mariners responsive to her prayer Shouted loud paeans, and their naked arms, Each cheering each, to their stout oars apply. But nearer and yet nearer to the rock The galley drove: some rush'd into the sea, Some strain'd the ropes that bind the loosen'd sails. Straight was I hither sent to thee, O king, To inform thee of these accidents. But haste, Take chains and gyves with thee: for if the flood side not to a calm, there is no hope Of safety to the strangers. Be assured, That Neptune, awful monarch of the main, Remembers Troy; and, hostile to the race Of Pelops, will deliver to thy hands, And to thy people, as is meet, the son Of Agamemnon; and bring back to the His sister, who the goddess hath betray'd, Unmindful of the blood at Aulis shed.

LEADER

Unhappy Iphigenia, thou must die, Thy brother too must die, if thou again, Seized in thy flight, to thy lord's hands shalt come.

THOAS

Inhabitants of this barbaric land, Will you not rein your steeds, will you not fly Along the shore, to seize whate'er this skiff Of Greece casts forth; and, for your goddess roused, Hunt down these impious men? Will you not launch Instant your swift-oar'd barks, by sea, by land To catch them, from the rugged rock to hurl Their bodies, or impale them on the stake? But for you, women, in these dark designs Accomplices, hereafter, as I find Convenient leisure, I will punish you. The occasion urges now, and gives no pause.

(MINERVA appears above.)

MINERVA

Whither, O royal Thoas, dost thou lead This vengeful chase? Attend: Minerva speaks. Cease thy pursuit, and stop this rushing flood Of arms; for hither, by the fateful voice Of Phoebus, came Orestes, warn'd to fly The anger of the Furies, to convey His sister to her native Argos back, And to my land the sacred image bear. Thoas, I speak to thee: him, whom thy rage Would kill, Orestes, on the wild waves seized, Neptune, to do me grace, already wafts On the smooth sea, the swelling surges calm'd. And thou, Orestes (for my voice thou hear'st, Though distant far), to my commands attend: Go, with the sacred image, which thou bear'st, And with thy sister: but when thou shalt come To Athens built by gods, there is a place On the extreme borders of the Attic land, Close neighbouring to Carystia's craggy height, Sacred; my people call it Alae: there A temple raise, and fix the statue there, Which from the Tauric goddess shall receive Its name, and from thy toils, which thou, through Greece Driven by the Furies' maddening stings, hast borne; And mortals shall in future times with hymns The Tauric goddess there, Diana, hail. And be this law establish'd; when the feast For thy deliverance from this shrine is held, To a man's throat that they apply the sword, And draw the blood, in memory of these rites, That of her honours naught the goddess lose. Thou, Iphigenia, on the hallow'd heights Of Brauron on this goddess shalt attend Her priestess, dying shalt be there interr'd, Graced with the honours of the gorgeous vests Of finest texture, in their houses left By matrons who in childbed pangs expired. These Grecian dames back to their country lead, I charge thee; justice this return demands, For I saved thee, when on the mount of Mars The votes were equal; and from that decree The shells in number equal still absolve. But, son of Agamemnon, from this land Thy sister bear; nor, Thoas, be thou angry.

THOAS

Royal Minerva, he that hears the gods Commanding, and obeys not, is unwise. My anger 'gainst Orestes flames no more, Gone though he be, and bears with him away The statue of the goddess, and his sister. Have mortals glory 'gainst the powerful gods Contending? Let them go, and to thy land The sacred image bear, and fix it there; Good fortune go with them. To favour Greece, These dames, at thy high bidding, I will send. My arms will I restrain, which I had raised Against the strangers, and my swift-oar'd barks, Since, potent goddess, this is pleasing to thee.

MINERVA

I praise thy resolution; for the power Of Fate o'er thee and o'er the gods prevails. Breathe soft, ye favouring gales, to Athens bear These sprung from Agamemnon; on their course Attending, I will go, and heedful save My sister's sacred image. You too go (to the CHORUS) Prosperous, and in the fate that guards you bless'd.

(MINERVA vanishes.)

CHORUS (chanting)

O thou, among the immortal gods revered And mortal men, Minerva, we will do As thou commandest; for with transport high, Exceeding hope, our ears receive thy words. O Victory, I revere thy awful power: Guard thou my life, nor ever cease to crown me!

THE END