Alas! it still remains ingrat.i.tude; Necessity alone can justify it.

PYLADES.

Thee, before G.o.ds and men it justifies.

IPHIGENIA.

But my own heart is still unsatisfied.

PYLADES.

Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.

IPHIGENIA.

I cannot argue, I can only feel.

PYLADES.

Conscious of right, thou shouldst respect thyself.

IPHIGENIA.

Then only doth the heart know perfect ease, When not a stain pollutes it.

PYLADES.

In this fane Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us To be less strict with others and ourselves; Thou'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful Is human nature, and its varied ties Are so involv'd and complicate, that none May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure, And walk without perplexity through life.

Nor are we call'd upon to judge ourselves; With circ.u.mspection to pursue his path, Is the immediate duty of a man.

For seldom can he rightly estimate, Or his past conduct or his present deeds.

IPHIGENIA.

Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.

PYLADES.

Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?

To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend, One path presents itself, and canst thou ask If we shall follow it?

IPHIGENIA.

Still let me pause, For such injustice thou couldst not thyself Calmly return for benefits receiv'd.

PYLADES.

If we should perish, bitter self-reproach, Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.

It seems thou art not used to suffer much, When, to escape so great calamity, Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.

IPHIGENIA.

Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!

Which, when it hath conceiv'd a bold resolve, 'Gainst every other voice doth close itself.

PYLADES.

In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand Necessity commands; her stern decree Is law supreme, to which the G.o.ds themselves Must yield submission. In dread silence rules The uncounsell'd sister of eternal fate.

What she appoints thee to endure,--endure; What to perform,--perform. The rest thou know'st.

Ere long I will return, and then receive The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.

SCENE V.

IPHIGENIA, _alone_.

I must obey him, for I see my friends Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.

May I no longer feed the silent hope Which in my solitude I fondly cherish'd?

Shall the dire curse eternally endure?

And shall our fated race ne'er rise again With blessings crown'd?--All mortal things decay!

The n.o.blest powers, the purest joys of life At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?

And have I vainly hop'd that, guarded here, Secluded from the fortunes of my race, I, with pure heart and hands, some future day Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?

Scarce was my brother in my circling arms From raging madness suddenly restor'd, Scarce had the ship, long pray'd for, near'd the strand, Once more to waft me to my native sh.o.r.es, When unrelenting fate, with iron hand, A double crime enjoins; commanding me To steal the image, sacred and rever'd, Confided to my care, and him deceive To whom I owe my life and destiny.

Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!

Nor the old t.i.tan's hate, toward you, ye G.o.ds, Infix its vulture talons in my breast!

Save me, and save your image in my soul!

An ancient song comes back upon mine ear-- I had forgotten it, and willingly-- The Parcae's song, which horribly they sang, What time, hurl'd headlong from his golden seat, Fell Tantalus. They with their n.o.ble friend Keen anguish suffer'd; savage was their breast And horrible their song. In days gone by, When we were children, oft our ancient nurse Would sing it to us, and I mark'd it well.

Oh, fear the immortals, Ye children of men!

Eternal dominion They hold in their hands.

And o'er their wide empire Wield absolute sway.

Whom they have exalted Let him fear them most!

Around golden tables, On cliffs and clouds resting The seats are prepar'd.

If contest ariseth; The guests are hurl'd headlong, Disgrac'd and dishonour'd, And fetter'd in darkness, Await with vain longing, A juster decree.

But in feasts everlasting, Around the gold tables Still dwell the immortals.

From mountain to mountain They stride; while ascending From fathomless chasms, The breath of the t.i.tans, Half stifl'd with anguish, Like volumes of incense Fumes up to the skies.

From races ill-fated, Their aspect joy-bringing, Oft turn the celestials, And shun in the children To gaze on the features Once lov'd and still speaking Of their mighty sire.

Thus sternly the Fates sang Immur'd in his dungeon.

The banish'd one listens, The song of the Parcae, His children's doom ponders, And boweth his head.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

THOAS. ARKAS.

ARKAS.

I own I am perplex'd, and scarcely know 'Gainst whom to point the shaft of my suspicion, Whether the priestess aids the captives' flight, Or they themselves clandestinely contrive it.

'Tis rumour'd that the ship which brought them here Is lurking somewhere in a bay conceal'd.

This stranger's madness, these new l.u.s.tral rites, The specious pretext for delay, excite Mistrust, and call aloud for vigilance.

THOAS.

Summon the priestess to attend me here!

Then go with speed, and strictly search the sh.o.r.e, From yon projecting land to Dian's grove: Forbear to violate its sacred depths; A watchful ambush set, attack and seize, According to your wont, whome'er ye find.

[_Arkas retires._

SCENE II.