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 aegisthus' 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 a.s.sa.s.sins 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 G.o.ds a.s.sign'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, antic.i.p.ate revenge.

With fiery eloquence she pictures forth Each circ.u.mstance 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 n.o.ble 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 sh.o.r.e!

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.