Nor Art Defile Who Consecrates Himself To Noble Deeds. Orestes. I Most Esteem The Brave And Upright Man. Pylades. And Therefore Have I Not Desir'D Thy Counsel. One Step Is Ta'En Already: From Our Guards I Have Extorted This Intelligence. A Strange And Godlike Woman Now Restrains The Execution Of That Bloody Law: Incense, And Prayer, And An Unsullied Heart, These Are The Gifts She Offers To The Gods. Her Fame Is Widely Spread, And It Is Thought That From The Race Of Amazon She Springs, And Hither Fled Some Great Calamity. Orestes. Her Gentle Sway, It Seems, Lost All Its Power At The Approach Of One So Criminal, Whom The Dire Curse Enshrouds In Gloomy Night. Our Doom To Seal, The Pious Thirst For Blood Again Unchains The Ancient Cruel Rite: The Monarch'S Savage Will Decrees Our Death; A Woman Cannot Save When He Condemns. Pylades. That 'Tis A Woman Is A Ground For Hope! A Man, The Very Best, With Cruelty At Length May So Familiarize His Mind, His Character Through Custom So Transform, That He Shall Come To Make Himself A Law Of What At First His Very Soul Abhorr'D. But Woman Doth Retain The Stamp Of Mind She First Assum'D. On Her We May Depend In Good Or Evil With More Certainty. She Comes; Leave Us Alone. I Dare Not Tell At Once Our Names, Nor Unreserv'D Confide Our Fortunes To Her. Now Retire Awhile, And Ere She Speaks With Thee We'll Meet Again. Scene Ii. Iphigenia. Pylades. Iphigenia. Whence Art Thou? Stranger, Speak! To Me Thy Bearing Stamps Thee Of Grecian, Not Of Scythian Race. (She Unbinds His Chains.) The Freedom That I Give Is Dangerous: The Gods Avert The Doom That Threatens You! Pylades. Delicious Music! Dearly Welcome Tones Of Our Own Language In A Foreign Land! With Joy My Captive Eye Once More Beholds The Azure Mountains Of My Native Coast. Oh, Let This Joy That I Too Am A Greek Convince Thee, Priestess! How I Need Thine Aid, A Moment I Forget, My Spirit Wrapt In Contemplation Of So Fair A Vision. If Fate'S Dread Mandate Doth Not Seal Thy Lips. From Which Of Our Illustrious Races, Say, Dost Thou Thy Godlike Origin Derive? Iphigenia. A Priestess, By The Goddess' Self Ordain'D And Consecrated Too, Doth Speak With Thee. Let That Suffice: But Tell Me, Who Art Thou, And What Unbless'D O'Erruling Destiny Hath Hither Led Thee With Thy Friend? Pylades. The Woe, Whose Hateful Presence Ever Dogs Our Steps, I Can With Ease Relate. Oh, Would That Thou Couldst With Like Ease, Divine One, Shed On Us One Ray Of Cheering Hope! We Are From Crete, Adrastus' Sons, And I, The Youngest Born, Named Cephalus; My Eldest Brother, He, Laodamus. Between Us Two A Youth Of Savage Temper Grew, Who Oft Disturb'D The Joy And Concord Of Our Youthful Sports. Long As Our Father Led His Powers At Troy, Passive Our Mother'S Mandate We Obey'D; But When, Enrich'D With Booty, He Return'D, And Shortly After Died, A Contest Fierce For The Succession And Their Father'S Wealth, Parted The Brothers. I The Eldest Joined; He Slew The Second; And The Furies Hence For Kindred Murder Dog His Restless Steps. But To This Savage Shore The Delphian God Hath Sent Us, Cheer'D By Hope, Commanding Us Within His Sister'S Temple To Await The Blessed Hand Of Aid. We Have Been Ta'En, Brought Hither, And Now Stand For Sacrifice. My Tale Is Told. Iphigenia Tell Me, Is Troy O'Erthrown? Assure Me Of Its Fall. Pylades. It Lies In Ruins. But Oh, Ensure Deliverance To Us! Hasten, I Pray, The Promis'D Aid Of Heav'N. Pity My Brother, Say A Kindly Word; But I Implore Thee, Spare Him When Thou Speakest. Too Easily His Inner Mind Is Torn By Joy, Or Grief, Or Cruel Memory. A Feverish Madness Oft Doth Seize On Him, Yielding His Spirit, Beautiful And Free, A Prey To Furies. Iphigenia. Great As Is Thy Woe, Forget It, I Conjure Thee, For A While, Till I Am Satisfied. Pylades. The Stately Town, Which Ten Long Years Withstood The Grecian Host, Now Lies In Ruins, Ne'er To Rise Again; Yet Many A Hero'S Grave Will Oft Recall Our Sad Remembrance To That Barbarous Shore; There Lies Achilles And His Noble Friend. Iphigenia. And Are Ye, Godlike Forms, Reduc'D To Dust! Pylades. Nor Palamede, Nor Ajax, Ere Again The Daylight Of Their Native Land Behold. Iphigenia. He Speaks Not Of My Father, Doth Not Name Him With The Fallen. He May Yet Survive! I May Behold Him! Still Hope On, My Heart! Pylades. Yet Happy Are The Thousands Who Receiv'D Their Bitter Death-Blow From A Hostile Hand! For Terror Wild, And End Most Tragical, Some Hostile, Angry, Deity Prepar'D, Instead Of Triumph, For The Home-Returning. Do Human Voices Never Reach This Shore? Far As Their Sound Extends, They Bear The Fame Of Deeds Unparallel'D. And Is The Woe Which Fills Mycene'S Halls With Ceaseless Sighs To Thee A Secret Still?--And Know'St Thou Not That Clytemnestra, With ?Gisthus' Aid, Her Royal Consort Artfully Ensnar'D, And Murder'D On The Day Of His Return?-- The Monarch'S House Thou Honourest! I Perceive Thy Heaving Bosom Vainly Doth Contend With Tidings Fraught With Such Unlook'D-For Woe Art Thou The Daughter Of A Friend? Or Born Within The Circuit Of Mycene'S Walls? Do Not Conceal It, Nor Avenge On Me That Here The Horrid Crime I First Announc'D. Iphigenia. Proceed, And Tell Me How The Deed Was Done. Pylades. The Day Of His Return, As From The Bath Arose The Monarch, Tranquil And Refresh'D. His Robe Demanding From His Consort'S Hand, A Tangl'D Garment, Complicate With Folds. She O'Er His Shoulders Flung And Noble Head; And When, As From A Net, He Vainly Strove To Extricate Himself, The Traitor, Base ?Gisthus, Smote Him, And Envelop'D Thus Great Agamemnon Sought The Shades Below. Iphigenia. And What Reward Receiv'D The Base Accomplice? Pylades. A Queen And Kingdom He Possess'D Already. Iphigenia. Base Passion Prompted, Then, The Deed Of Shame? Pylades. And Feelings, Cherish'D Long, Of Deep Revenge. Iphigenia. How Had The Monarch Injured Clytemnestra? Pylades. By Such A Dreadful Deed, That If On Earth Aught Could Exculpate Murder, It Were This. To Aulis He Allur'D Her, When The Fleet With Unpropitious Winds The Goddess Stay'D; And There, A Victim At Diana'S Shrine, The Monarch, For The Welfare Of The Greeks, Her Eldest Daughter Doom'D. And This, 'Tis Said, Planted Such Deep Abhorrence In Her Heart, That To ?Gisthus She Resign'D Herself, And Round Her Husband Flung The Web Of Death. Iphigenia. (Veiling Herself). It Is Enough! Thou Wilt Again Behold Me. Pylades, Alone. The Fortune Of This Royal House, It Seems, Doth Move Her Deeply. Whosoe'Er She Be, She Must Herself Have Known The Monarch Well;-- For Our Good Fortune, From A Noble House, She Hath Been Sold To Bondage. Peace, My Heart! And Let Us Steer Our Course With Prudent Zeal Toward The Star Of Hope Which Gleams Upon Us. Act The Third. Scene I. Iphigenia. Orestes. Iphigenia. Unhappy Man, I Only Loose Thy Bonds In Token Of A Still Severer Doom. The Freedom Which The Sanctuary Imparts, Like The Last Life-Gleam O'Er The Dying Face, But Heralds Death. I Cannot, Dare Not Say Your Doom Is Hopeless; For, With Murd'Rous Hand, Could I Inflict The Fatal Blow Myself? And While I Here Am Priestess Of Diana, None, Be He Who He May, Dare Touch Your Heads. But The Incensed King, Should I Refuse Compliance With The Rites Himself Enjoin'D, Will Choose Another Virgin From My Train As My Successor. Then, Alas! With Nought, Save Ardent Wishes, Can I Succour You, Much Honour'D Countryman! The Humblest Slave, Who Had But Near'D Our Sacred Household Hearth, Is Dearly Welcome In A Foreign Land; How With Proportion'D Joy And Blessing, Then, Shall I Receive The Man Who Doth Recall The Image Of The Heroes, Whom I Learn'D To Honour From My Parents, And Who Cheers My Inmost Heart With Flatt'Ring Gleams Of Hope! Orestes. Does Prudent Forethought Prompt Thee To Conceal Thy Name And Race? Or May I Hope To Know Who, Like A Heavenly Vision, Meets Me Thus? Iphigenia. Yes, Thou Shalt Know Me. Now Conclude The Tale Of Which Thy Brother Only Told Me Half: Relate Their End, Who Coming Home From Troy, On Their Own Threshold Met A Doom Severe And Most Unlook'D For. I, Though But A Child When First Conducted Hither, Well Recall The Timid Glance Of Wonder Which I Cast On Those Heroic Forms. When They Went Forth, It Seem'D As Though Olympus From Her Womb Had Cast The Heroes Of A By-Gone World, To Frighten Ilion; And, Above Them All, Great Agamemnon Tower'D Pre-Eminent! Oh Tell Me! Fell The Hero In His Home, Though Clytemnestra'S And ?Gisthus' Wiles? Orestes. He Fell! Iphigenia. Unblest Mycene! Thus The Sons Of Tantalus, With Barbarous Hands, Have Sown Curse Upon Curse; And, As The Shaken Weed Scatters Around A Thousand Poison-Seeds, So They Assassins Ceaseless Generate, Their Children'S Children Ruthless To Destroy.-- Now Tell The Remnant Of Thy Brother'S Tale, Which Horror Darkly Hid From Me Before. How Did The Last Descendant Of The Race,-- The Gentle Child, To Whom The Gods Assign'D The Office Of Avenger,--How Did He Escape That Day Of Blood? Did Equal Fate Around Orestes Throw Avernus' Net? Say, Was He Saved? And Is He Still Alive? And Lives Electra, Too? Orestes. They Both Survive. Iphigenia. Golden Apollo, Lend Thy Choicest Beams! Lay Them An Offering At The Throne Of Jove! For I Am Poor And Dumb. Orestes. If Social Bonds Or Ties More Close Connect Thee With This House, As This Thy Joy Evinces, Rein Thy Heart; For Insupportable The Sudden Plunge From Happiness To Sorrow'S Gloomy Depth. As Yet Thou Only Know'St The Hero'S Death. Iphigenia. And Is Not This Intelligence Enough? Orestes. Half Of The Horror Yet Remains Untold, Iphigenia. Electra And Orestes Both Survive, What Have I Then To Fear? Orestes. And Fear'St Thou Nought For Clytemnestra? Iphigenia. Her, Nor Hope Nor Fear Have Power To Save. Orestes. She To The Land Of Hope Hath Bid Farewell. Iphigenia. Did Her Repentant Hand Shed Her Own Blood? Orestes. Not So; Yet Her Own Blood Inflicted Death. Iphigenia. Speak Less Ambiguously. Uncertainty Around My Anxious Head Her Dusky, Thousand-Folded, Pinion Waves. Orestes. Have Then The Powers Above Selected Me To Be The Herald Of A Dreadful Deed, Which, In The Drear And Soundless Realms Of Night, I Fain Would Hide For Ever? 'Gainst My Will Thy Gentle Voice Constrains Me; It Demands, And Shall Receive, A Tale Of Direst Woe. Electra, On The Day When Fell Her Sire, Her Brother From Impending Doom Conceal'D; Him Strophius, His Father'S Relative, With Kindest Care Receiv'D, And Rear'D The Child With His Own Son, Named Pylades, Who Soon Around The Stranger Twin'D The Bonds Of Love. And As They Grew, Within Their Inmost Souls There Sprang The Burning Longing To Revenge The Monarch'S Death. Unlookd For, And Disguis'D, They Reach Mycene, Feigning To Have Brought The Mournful Tidings Of Orestes' Death, Together With His Ashes. Them The Queen Gladly Receives. Within The House They Enter; Orestes To Electra Shows Himself: She Fans The Fires Of Vengeance Into Flame, Which In The Sacred Presence Of A Mother Had Burn'D More Dimly. Silently She Leads Her Brother To The Spot Where Fell Their Sire; Where Lurid Blood-Marks, On The Oft-Wash'D Floor, With Pallid Streaks, Anticipate Revenge. With Fiery Eloquence She Pictures Forth Each Circumstance Of That Atrocious Deed,-- Her Own Oppress'D And Miserable Life, The Prosperous Traitor'S Insolent Demeanour, The Perils Threat'Ning Agamemnon'S Race From Her Who Had Become Their Stepmother; Then In His Hand The Ancient Dagger Thrusts, Which Often In The House Of Tantalus With Savage Fury Rag'D,--And By Her Son Is Clytemnestra Slain. Iphigenia. Immortal Powers! Whose Pure And Blest Existence Glides Away 'Mid Ever Shifting Clouds, Me Have Ye Kept So Many Years Secluded From The World, Retain'D Me Near Yourselves, Consign'D To Me The Childlike Task To Feed The Sacred Fire, And Taught My Spirit, Like The Hallow'D Flame, With Never-Clouded Brightness To Aspire To Your Pure Mansions,--But At Length To Feel With Keener Woe The Misery Of My House? Oh Tell Me Of The Poor Unfortunate! Speak Of Orestes! Orestes. Would That He Were Dead! Forth From His Mother'S Blood Her Ghost Arose, And To The Ancient Daughters Of The Night Cries,--"Let Him Not Escape,--The Matricide! Pursue The Victim, Dedicate To You!" They Hear, And Glare Around With Hollow Eyes, Like Greedy Eagles. In Their Murky Dens They Stir Themselves, And From The Corners Creep Their Comrades, Dire Remorse And Pallid Fear; Before Them Fumes A Mist Of Acheron; Perplexingly Around The Murderer'S Brow The Eternal Contemplation Of The Past Rolls In Its Cloudy Circles. Once Again The Grisly Band, Commissioned To Destroy, Pollute Earth'S Beautiful And Heaven-Sown Fields, From Which An Ancient Curse Had Banish'D Them. Their Rapid Feet The Fugitive Pursue; They Only Pause To Start A Wilder Fear. Iphigenia. Unhappy One; Thy Lot Resembles His, Thou Feel'St What He, Poor Fugitive, Must Suffer. Orestes. What Say'St Thou? Why Presume My Fate Like His? Iphigenia. A Brother'S Murder Weighs Upon Thy Soul; Thy Younger Brother Told The Mournful Tale. Orestes. I Cannot Suffer That Thy Noble Soul Should Be Deceiv'D By Error. Rich In Guile, And Practis'D In Deceit, A Stranger May A Web Of Falsehood Cunningly Devise To Snare A Stranger;--Between Us Be Truth. I Am Orestes! And This Guilty Head Is Stooping To The Tomb, And Covets Death; It Will Be Welcome Now In Any Shape. Whoe'Er Thou Art, For Thee And For My Friend I Wish Deliverance;--I Desire It Not. Thou Seem'St To Linger Here Against Thy Will; Contrive Some Means Of Flight, And Leave Me Here: My Lifeless Corpse Hurl'D Headlong From The Rock, My Blood Shall Mingle With The Dashing Waves, And Bring A Curse Upon This Barbarous Shore! Return Together Home To Lovely Greece, With Joy A New Existence To Commence. [Orestes Retires. Iphigenia. At Length Fulfilment, Fairest Child Of Jove, Thou Dost Descend Upon Me From On High! How Vast Thine Image! Scarce My Straining Eye Can Reach Thy Hands, Which, Fill'D With Golden Fruit And Wreaths Of Blessing, From Olympus' Height Shower Treasures Down. As By His Bounteous Gifts We Recognize The Monarch (For What Seems To Thousands Opulence Is Nought To Him), So You, Ye Heavenly Powers, Are Also Known By Bounty Long Withheld, And Wisely Plann'D. Ye Only Know What Things Are Good For Us; Ye View The Future'S Wide-Extended Realm; While From Our Eye A Dim Or Starry Veil The Prospect Shrouds. Calmly Ye Hear Our Prayers, When We Like Children Sue For Greater Speed. Not Immature Ye Pluck Heaven'S Golden Fruit; And Woe To Him, Who With Impatient Hand, His Date Of Joy Forestalling, Gathers Death. Let Not This Long-Awaited Happiness, Which Yet My Heart Hath Scarcely Realiz'D, Like To The Shadow Of Departed Friends, Glide Vainly By With Triple Sorrow Fraught! Orestes, Returning. Dost Thou For Pylades And For Thyself Implore The Gods, Blend Not My Name With Yours; Thou Wilt Not Save The Wretch Whom Thou Wouldst Join, But Wilt Participate His Curse And Woe. Iphigenia. My Destiny Is Firmly Bound To Thine. Orestes. No, Say Not So; Alone And Unattended Let Me Descend To Hades. Though Thou Shouldst In Thine Own Veil Enwrap The Guilty One. Thou Couldst Not Shroud Him From His Wakeful Foes; And E'En Thy Sacred Presence, Heavenly Maid, Drives Them Aside, But Scares Them Not Away. With Brazen Impious Feet They Dare Not Tread Within The Precincts Of This Sacred Grove: Yet In The Distance, Ever And Anon, I Hear Their Horrid Laughter, Like The Howl Of Famish'D Wolves, Beneath The Tree Wherein The Traveller Hides. Without, Encamp'D They Lie, And Should I Quit This Consecrated Grove, Shaking Their Serpent Locks, They Would Arise, And, Raising Clouds Of Dust On Every Side, Ceaseless Pursue Their Miserable Prey. Iphigenia. Orestes, Canst Thou Hear A Friendly Word? Orestes. Reserve It For One Favour'D By The Gods. Iphigenia. To Thee They Give Anew The Light Of Hope. Orestes. Through Clouds And Smoke I See The Feeble Gleam Of The Death-Stream Which Lights Me Down To Hell. Iphigenia. Hast Thou One Sister Only, Thy Electra? Orestes. I Knew But One: Yet Her Kind Destiny, Which Seem'D To Us So Terrible, Betimes Removed An Elder Sister From The Woe That Dogs The Race Of Pelops. Cease, Oh Cease Thy Questions, Maiden, Nor Thus League Thyself With The Eumenides, Who Blow Away, With Fiendish Joy, The Ashes From My Soul, Lest The Last Spark Of Horror'S Fiery Brand Should Be Extinguish'D There. Must Then The Fire, Deliberately Kindl'D And Supplied With Hellish Sulphur, Never Cease To Sear My Tortur'D Bosom? Iphigenia. In The Flame I Throw Sweet Incense. Let The Gentle Breath Of Love, Low Murmuring, Cool Thy Bosom'S Fiery Glow. Orestes, Fondly Lov'D,--Canst Thou Not Hear Me? Hath The Terrific Furies' Grisly Band Completely Dried The Life-Blood In Thy Veins? Creeps There, As From The Gorgon'S Direful Head, A Petrifying Charm Through All Thy Limbs? If Hollow Voices, From A Mother'S Blood, Call Thee To Hell, May Not A Sister'S Word With Benediction Pure Ascend To Heaven, And Summon Thence Some Gracious Power To Aid Thee? Orestes. She Calls! She Calls!--Thou Too Desir'St My Death? Is There A Fury Shrouded In Thy Form? Who Art Thou, That Thy Voice Thus Horribly Can Harrow Up My Bosom'S Inmost Depths? Iphigenia. Thine Inmost Heart Reveals It. I Am She, Iphigenia,--Look On Me, Orestes! Orestes. Thou! Iphigenia. My Own Brother! Orestes. Hence, Away, Begone! Touch Not These Locks, I Counsel Thee; From Me, As From Creusa'S Bridal Robe, Proceeds An Unextinguishable Fire. Depart! Like Hercules, An Ignominious Death, Unworthy Wretch, Look'D In Myself, I'll Die. Iphigenia. Thou Shalt Not Perish! Would That I Might Hear One Quiet Word From Thee! Dispel My Doubts, Make Sure The Bliss I Have Implor'D So Long. A Wheel Of Joy And Sorrow In My Heart Ceaseless Revolves. With Shy Reserve I Turn From One Unknown; But Unto Thee, My Brother, My Inmost Heart Resistlessly Impels Me. Orestes. Is This Ly?Us' Temple? Doth The Glow Of Holy Rage Unbridl'D Thus Possess The Sacred Priestess? Iphigenia. Hear Me, Oh, Look Up! See How My Heart, Which Hath Been Clos'D So Long, Doth Open To The Bliss Of Seeing Thee, The Dearest Treasure That The World Contains,-- Of Falling On Thy Neck, And Folding Thee Within My Longing Arms, Which Have Till Now Met The Embraces Of The Empty Wind. Do Not Repulse Me,--The Eternal Spring, Whose Crystal Waters From Parnassus Flow, Bounds Not More Gaily On From Rock To Rock, Down To The Golden Vale, Than From My Heart The Waters Of Affection Freely Gush, And Round Me Form A Circling Sea Of Bliss. Orestes! Oh, My Brother! Orestes. Lovely Nymph! Nor Thy Caresses, Nor Thyself I Trust; Diana Claims Attendants More Severe, And Doth Avenge Her Desecrated Fane. Remove Thy Circling Arm! And If Thou Wilt Safety And Love Upon A Youth Bestow, Unto My Friend, More Worthy Than Myself, Impart Thy Gifts; Among Yon Rocks He Roves; Go Seek Him, Guide Him Hence, And Heed Not Me. Iphigenia. Brother, Command Thyself, And Better Know Thy New-Found Sister, Nor Misconstrue Thus Her Pure And Heav'Nly Joy. Ye Gods, Remove From His Fix'D Eye Delusion, Lest This Hour Of Highest Bliss Should Make Us Trebly Wretched! Oh She Is Here, Thine Own, Thy Long-Lost Sister, Whom Great Diana From The Altar Snatch'D, And Safely Plac'D Here In Her Sacred Fane. A Captive Thou, Prepar'D For Sacrifice, And Findest Here A Sister In The Priestess. Orestes. Accursed Race! Now May The Sun Behold Your Final Doom. Is Not Electra Here? That She With Us May Perish, Nor Her Life For Heavier Doom And Deeper Woe Reserve. 'Tis Well,--I Follow, Priestess! Fratricide Is An Old Custom Of Our Ancient House; And You, Ye Gods, I Thank, That Ye Resolve Childless To Root Me Hence. Thee Let Me Counsel To View Too Fondly Neither Sun Nor Stars. Come Follow To The Gloomy Realms Below! As Dragons, Gender'D In The Sulphur Pool, Swallow Each Other With Voracious Rage, So Our Accurs'D Race Destroys Itself. Childless And Guiltless Come Below With Me! There'S Pity In Thy Look! Oh, Gaze Not So,-- 'Twas With Such Looks That Clytemnestra Sought An Entrance To Her Son Orestes' Heart, And Yet His Uprais'D Arm Her Bosom Pierc'D. His Mother Fell!--Appear, Indignant Shade! Within The Circle Step, Ye Fiends Of Hell, Be Present At The Welcome Spectacle, The Last, Most Horrible, That Ye Prepare! Nor Hate, Nor Vengeance, Whets The Poignard Now, A Sister Is Constrain'D To Deal The Blow. Weep Not! Thy Guiltless Soul Is Free From Crime. From Earliest Infancy I Nought Have Lov'D, As Thee I Could Have Lov'D, My Sister. Come, The Weapon Raise, Spare Not, This Bosom Rend, And Make An Outlet For Its Boiling Streams! (He Sinks Exhausted.) Iphigenia. Alone I Cannot Bear This Bliss And Woe. Where Art Thou, Pylades? Thine Aid I Need. (Iphigenia Retires.) Scene Ii. Orestes, Recovering From His Swoon And Standing Up. Give Yet Another! Reach From Lethe'S Stream The Last Reviving Draught Of Cool Refreshment! Soon Shall Its Waters In My Bosom Still Life'S Fitful Fever; And My Spirit Then Adown Oblivion'S Stream Shall Glide To You, Ye Spirits, Shrouded In Eternal Mist. With Tranquil Pleasure In Your Deep Repose A Weary Son Of Earth May Lave His Soul!-- What Whisp'Ring Sounds Pervade The Dreary Grove? What Hollow Murmurs Haunt Its Twilight Gloom?-- They Gather Round To View The Stranger Guest! Who Are Yon Troop In High Communion Met, Like An Assembl'D Family Of Princes? They Mingle Peacefully, Of Every Age, And Either Sex, Yet Are Their Godlike Forms Cast In A Kindred Mould. 'Tis They, 'Tis They, The Fathers Of My Race! With Atreus, In Friendly Converse Glides Thyestes' Shade, And Children Playfully Around Them Sport. Is There No Enmity Among You Now? And Is Revenge Extinguish'D With The Sun? I Then Am Welcome, And May Hope To Join Your Solemn Company. My Fathers, Hail! Orestes, Last Descendant Of Your Race, Salutes You. What Ye Sow'D, That Hath He Reap'D Laden With Curses He Descends To You. But Burdens Here Are Lighter Far To Bear. Receive Him, Oh, Receive Him In Your Circle! Thee, Atreus, I Revere, And Thee, Thyestes: Here All Are Free From Enmity And Hate.-- Show Me My Father, Whom I Only Once In Life Beheld.--Art Thou My Father, Thou, My Mother Leading Thus Familiarly? Dares Clytemnestra Reach Her Hand To Thee; Then May Orestes Also Draw Near Her, And Say, Behold Thy Son!--My Ancestors, Behold Your Son, And Bid Him Welcome Here, Among The Sons Of Ancient Tantalus, A Kind Salute On Earth Was Murder'S Watchword, And All Their Joys Commence Beyond The Grave. Ye Welcome Me! Ye Bid Me Join Your Circle! Oh, Lead Me To My Honour'D Ancestor! Where Is The Aged Hero? That I May Behold The Dear, The Venerable Head, Of Him, Who With The Gods In Council Sat. You Seem To Shudder And To Turn Away? What May This Mean? Suffers The Godlike Man? Alas! The Mighty Gods, With Ruthless Hate, To His Heroic Breast, With Brazen Chains, Have Cruel Pangs Indissolubly Bound. Scene Iii. Orestes. Iphigenia. Pylades. Orestes. How! Are Ye Come Already? Sister, Welcome. Electra Still Is Missing: Some Kind God With Gentle Arrow Send Her Quickly Hither. Thee, My Poor Friend, I Must Compassionate! Come With Me, Come To Pluto'S Gloomy Throne. There To Salute Our Hosts Like Stranger Guests. Iphigenia. Celestial Pair, Who From The Realms Above By Night And Day Shed Down The Beauteous Light To Cheer Mankind, But Who May Not Illume Departed Spirits, Save A Mortal Pair! A Brother'S And A Sister'S Anguish Pity! For Thou, Diana, Lov'St Thy Gentle Brother Beyond What Earth And Heaven Can Offer Thee And Dost, With Quiet Yearning, Ever Turn Thy Virgin Face To His Eternal Light. Let Not My Only Brother, Found So Late, Rave In The Darkness Of Insanity! And Is Thy Will, When Thou Didst Here Conceal Me, At Length Fulfill'D,--Would'St Thou To Me Through Him, To Him Through Me, Thy Gracious Aid Extend,-- Oh, Free Him From The Fetters Of This Curse, Lest Vainly Pass The Precious Hours Of Safety. Pylades. Dost Thou Not Know Us, And This Sacred Grove, And This Blest Light, Which Shines Not On The Dead? Dost Thou Not Feel Thy Sister And Thy Friend, Who Hold Thee Living In Their Firm Embrace? Grasp Us! We Are Not Shadows. Mark My Words! Collect Thyself,--Each Moment Now Is Precious, And Our Return Hangs On A Slender Thread, Which, As It Seems, Some Gracious Fate Doth Spin. Orestes To Iphigenia. My Sister, Let Me For The First Time Taste, With Open Heart, Pure Joy Within Thine Arms! Ye Gods, Who Charge The Heavy Clouds With Dread, And Sternly Gracious Send The Long-Sought Rain With Thunder And The Rush Of Mighty Winds, A Horrid Deluge On The Trembling Earth; Yet Dissipate At Length Man'S Dread Suspense, Exchanging Timid Wonder'S Anxious Gaze For Grateful Looks And Joyous Songs Of Praise, When In Each Sparkling Drop Which Gems The Leaves, Apollo, Thousand-Fold, Reflects His Beam, And Iris Colours With A Magic Hand The Dusky Texture Of The Parting Clouds; Oh, Let Me Also In My Sister'S Arms, And On The Bosom Of My Friend, Enjoy With Grateful Thanks The Bliss Ye Now Bestow My Heart Assures Me That Your Curses Cease. The Dread Eumenides At Length Retire, The Brazen Gates Of Tartarus I Hear Behind Them Closing With A Thund'Ring Clang. A Quick'Ning Odour From The Earth Ascends, Inviting Me To Chase, Upon Its Plains, The Joys Of Life And Deeds Of High Emprise. Pylades. Lose Not The Moments Which Are Limited! The Favouring Gale, Which Swells Our Parting Sail, Must To Olympus Waft Our Perfect Joy. Quick Counsel And Resolve The Time Demands. Act The Fourth. Scene I. Iphigenia. When The Powers On High Decree For A Feeble Child Of Earth Dire Perplexity And Woe, And His Spirit Doom To Pass With Tumult Wild From Joy To Grief, And Back Again From Grief To Joy, In Fearful Alternation; They In Mercy Then Provide, In The Precincts Of His Home, Or Upon The Distant Shore, That To Him May Never Fail Ready Help In Hours Of Need, A Tranquil, Faithful Friend. Oh, Bless, Ye Heavenly Powers, Our Pylades, And Every Project That His Mind May Form! In Combat His The Vigorous Arm Of Youth, And In The Counsel His The Eye Of Age. His Soul Is Tranquil; In His Inner Mind He Guards A Sacred, Undisturb'D Repose, And From Its Silent Depths A Rich Supply Of Aid And Counsel Draws For The Distress'D. He Tore Me From My Brother, Upon Whom, With Fond Amaze, I Gaz'D And Gaz'D Again; I Could Not Realize My Happiness, Nor Loose Him From My Arms, And Heeded Not The Danger'S Near Approach That Threatens Us. To Execute Their Project Of Escape, They Hasten To The Sea, Where In A Bay Their Comrades In The Vessel Lie Conceal'D And Wait A Signal. Me They Have Supplied With Artful Answers, Should The Monarch Send To Urge The Sacrifice. Alas! I See I Must Consent To Follow Like A Child. I Have Not Learn'D Deception, Nor The Art To Gain With Crafty Wiles My Purposes. Detested Falsehood! It Doth Not Relieve The Breast Like Words Of Truth: It Comforts Not, But Is A Torment In The Forger'S Heart, And, Like An Arrow Which A God Directs, Flies Back And Wounds The Archer. Through My Heart One Fear Doth Chase Another; Perhaps With Rage, Again On The Unconsecrated Shore, The Furies' Grisly Band My Brother Seize. Perchance They Are Surpris'D? Methinks I Hear The Tread Of Armed Men. A Messenger Is Coming From The King, With Hasty Steps. How Throbs My Heart, How Troubl'D Is My Soul Now That I See The Countenance Of One, Whom With A Word Untrue I Must Encounter! Scene Ii. Iphigenia. Arkas. Arkas. Priestess, With Speed Conclude The Sacrifice, Impatiently The King And People Wait. Iphigenia. I Had Perform'D My Duty And Thy Will, Had Not An Unforeseen Impediment The Execution Of My Purpose Thwarted. Arkas. What Is It That Obstructs The King'S Commands? Iphigenia. Chance, Which From Mortals Will Not Brook Control. Arkas. Possess Me With The Reason, That With Speed I May Inform The King, Who Hath Decreed The Death Of Both. Iphigenia. The Gods Have Not Decreed It. The Elder Of These Men Doth Bear The Guilt Of Kindred Murder; On His Steps Attend The Dread Eumenides. They Seiz'D Their Prey Within The Inner Fane, Polluting Thus The Holy Sanctuary. I Hasten Now, Together With My Virgin-Train, To Bathe Diana'S Image In The Sea, And There With Solemn Rites Its Purity Restore. Let None Presume Our Silent March To Follow! Arkas. This Hindrance To The Monarch I'll Announce: Do Not Commence The Rite Till He Permit. Iphigenia. The Priestess Interferes Alone In This. Arkas. An Incident So Strange The King Should Know. Iphigenia. Here, Nor His Counsel Nor Command Avails. Arkas. Oft Are The Great Consulted Out Of Form. Iphigenia. Do Not Insist On What I Must Refuse. Arkas. A Needful And A Just Demand Refuse Not. Iphigenia. I Yield, If Thou Delay Not. Arkas. I With Speed Will Bear These Tidings To The Camp, And Soon Acquaint Thee, Priestess, With The King'S Reply. There Is A Message I Would Gladly Bear Him: 'Twould Quickly Banish All Perplexity: Thou Didst Not Heed Thy Faithful Friend'S Advice. Iphigenia. I Willingly Have Done Whate'Er I Could. Arkas. E'En Now 'Tis Not Too Late To Change Thy Mind. Iphigenia. To Do So Is, Alas, Beyond Our Power. Arkas. What Thou Wouldst Shun, Thou Deem'St Impossible. Iphigenia. Thy Wish Doth Make Thee Deem It Possible. Arkas. Wilt Thou So Calmly Venture Everything? Iphigenia. My Fate I Have Committed To The Gods. Arkas. The Gods Are Wont To Save By Human Means. Iphigenia. By Their Appointment Everything Is Done. Arkas. Believe Me, All Doth Now Depend On Thee. The Irritated Temper Of The King Alone Condemns These Men To Bitter Death. The Soldiers From The Cruel Sacrifice And Bloody Service Long Have Been Disused; Nay, Many, Whom Their Adverse Fortunes Cast In Foreign Regions, There Themselves Have Felt How Godlike To The Exil'D Wanderer The Friendly Countenance Of Man Appears. Do Not Deprive Us Of Thy Gentle Aid! With Ease Thou Canst Thy Sacred Task Fulfil: For Nowhere Doth Benignity, Which Comes In Human Form From Heaven, So Quickly Gain An Empire O'Er The Heart, As Where A Race, Gloomy And Savage, Full Of Life And Power, Without External Guidance, And Oppress'D With Vague Forebodings, Bear Life'S Heavy Load. Iphigenia. Shake Not My Spirit, Which Thou Canst Not Bend According To Thy Will. Arkas. While There Is Time Nor Labour Nor Persuasion Shall Be Spar'D. Iphigenia. Thy Labour But Occasions Pain To Me; Both Are In Vain; Therefore, I Pray, Depart. Arkas. I Summon Pain To Aid Me. 'Tis A Friend Who Counsels Wisely. Iphigenia. Though It Shakes My Soul, It Doth Not Banish Thence My Strong Repugnance. Arkas. Can Then A Gentle Soul Repugnance Feel For Benefits Bestow'D By One So Noble? Iphigenia. Yes, When The Donor, For Those Benefits, Instead Of Gratitude, Demands Myself. Arkas. Who No Affection Feels Doth Never Want Excuses. To The King I'll Now Relate All That Has Happen'D. Oh, That In Thy Soul Thou Wouldst Revolve His Noble Conduct, Priestess, Since Thy Arrival To The Present Day! Scene Iii. Iphigenia, Alone. These Words At An Unseasonable Hour Produce A Strong Revulsion In My Breast; I Am Alarm'D!--For As The Rushing Tide In Rapid Currents Eddies O'Er The Rocks Which Lie Among The Sand Upon The Shore; E'En So A Stream Of Joy O'Erwhelm'D My Soul. I Grasp'D What Had Appear'D Impossible. It Was As Though Another Gentle Cloud Around Me Lay, To Raise Me From The Earth, And Rock My Spirit In The Same Sweet Sleep Which The Kind Goddess Shed Around My Brow, What Time Her Circling Arm From Danger Snatch'D Me. My Brother Forcibly Engross'D My Heart; I Listen'D Only To His Friend'S Advice; My Soul Rush'D Eagerly To Rescue Them, And As The Mariner With Joy Surveys The Less'Ning Breakers Of A Desert Isle, So Tauris Lay Behind Me. But The Voice Of Faithful Arkas Wakes Me From My Dream, Reminding Me That Those Whom I Forsake Are Also Men. Deceit Doth Now Become Doubly Detested. O My Soul, Be Still! Beginn'St Thou Now To Tremble And To Doubt? Thy Lonely Shelter On The Firm-Set Earth Must Thou Abandon? And, Embark'D Once More, At Random Drift Upon Tumultuous Waves, A Stranger To Thyself And To The World? Scene Iv. Iphigenia. Pylades. Pylades. Where Is She? That My Words With Speed May Tell The Joyful Tidings Of Our Near Escape! Iphigenia. Oppress'D With Gloomy Care, I Much Require The Certain Comfort Thou Dost Promise Me. Pylades. Thy Brother Is Restor'D! The Rocky Paths Of This Unconsecrated Shore We Trod In Friendly Converse, While Behind Us Lay, Unmark'D By Us, The Consecrated Grove; And Ever With Increasing Glory Shone The Fire Of Youth Around His Noble Brow. Courage And Hope His Glowing Eye Inspir'D; And His Free Heart Exulted With The Joy Of Saving Thee, His Sister, And His Friend. Iphigenia. The Gods Shower Blessings On Thee, Pylades! And From Those Lips Which Breathe Such Welcome News, Be The Sad Note Of Anguish Never Heard! Pylades. I Bring Yet More,--For Fortune, Like A Prince, Comes Not Alone, But Well Accompanied. Our Friends And Comrades We Ha