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Iphigenia in Tauris

By Euripides

Written 414-412 B.C.E

Translated by Robert Potter

Dramatis Personae

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


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.

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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

strophe 1

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?

antistrophe 1

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.

strophe 2

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?

antistrophe 2

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

strophe 1

O bird, that round each craggy height
Projecting o'er the sea below,
Wheelest thy mel