                                     410 BC
                              IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS
                                  by Euripides
                          translated by Robert Potter
    CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
  IPHIGENIA, daughter of Agamemnon
  ORESTES, brother of IPHIGENIA
  PYLADES, friend Of ORESTES
  THOAS, King of the Taurians
  HERDSMAN
  MESSENGER
  MINERVA
  CHORUS OF GREEK WOMEN, captives, attendants on IPHIGENIA in the
temple


    IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS


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

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

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

  ORESTES
    Keep careful watch, lest some one come this way.
  PYLADES
    I watch, and turn mine eye to every part.
  ORESTES
    And dost thou, Pylades, imagine this
    The temple of the goddess, which we seek,
    Our sails from Argos sweeping o'er the main?
  PYLADES
    Orestes, such my thought, and must be thine.
  ORESTES
    And this the altar wet with Grecian blood?
  PYLADES
    Crimson'd with gore behold its sculptured wreaths.
  ORESTES
    See, from the battlements what trophies hang!
  PYLADES
    The spoils of strangers that have here been slain.
  ORESTES
    Behooves us then to watch with careful eye.
    O Phoebus, by thy oracles again
    Why hast thou led me to these toils? E'er since,
    In vengeance for my father's blood, I slew
    My mother, ceaseless by the Furies driven,
    Vagrant, an outcast, many a bending course
    My feet have trod: to thee I came, of the
    Inquired this whirling frenzy by what means,
    And by what means my labours I might end.
    Thy voice commanded me to speed my course
    To this wild coast of Tauris, where a shrine
    Thy sister hath, Diana; thence to take
    The statue of the goddess, which from heaven
    (So say the natives) to this temple fell:
    This image, or by fraud or fortune won,
    The dangerous toil achieved, to place the prize
    In the Athenian land: no more was said;
    But that, performing this, I should obtain
    Rest from my toils. Obedient to thy words,
    On this unknown, inhospitable coast
    Am I arrived. Now, Pylades (for thou
    Art my associate in this dangerous task),
    Of thee I ask, What shall we do? for high
    The walls, thou seest, which fence the temple round.
    Shall we ascend their height? But how escape
    Observing eyes? Or burst the brazen bars?
    Of these we nothing know: in the attempt
    To force the gates, or meditating means
    To enter, if detected, we shall die.
    Shall we then, ere we die, by flight regain
    The ship in which we hither plough'd the sea?
  PYLADES
    Of flight we brook no thought, nor such hath been
    Our wont; nor may the god's commanding voice
    Be disobey'd; but from the temple now
    Retiring, in some cave, which the black sea
    Beats with its billows, we may lie conceal'd
    At distance from our bark, lest some, whose eyes
    May note it, bear the tidings to the king,
    And we be seized by force. But when the eye
    Of night comes darkling on, then must we dare,
    And take the polish'd image from the shrine,
    Attempting all things: and the vacant space
    Between the triglyphs (mark it well) enough
    Is open to admit us; by that way
    Attempt we to descend: in toils the brave
    Are daring; of no worth the abject soul.
  ORESTES
    This length of sea we plough'd not, from this coast,
    Nothing effected, to return: but well
    Hast thou advised; the god must be obey'd.
    Retire we then where we may lie conceal'd;
    For never from the god will come the cause,
    That what his sacred voice commands should fall
    Effectless. We must dare. No toil to youth
    Excuse, which justifies inaction, brings.

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

  IPHIGENIA (singing)
    You, who your savage dwellings hold
      Nigh this inhospitable main,
    'Gainst clashing rocks with fury roll'd,
      From all but hallow'd words abstain.
    Virgin queen, Latona's grace,
    joying in the mountain chase,
    To thy court, thy rich domain,
    To thy beauteous-pillar'd fane
    Where our wondering eyes behold
    Battlements that blaze with gold,
    Thus my virgin steps I bend,
    Holy, the holy to attend;
    Servant, virgin queen, to thee;
    Power, who bear'st life's golden key,
    Far from Greece for steeds renown'd,
    From her walls with towers crown'd,
    From the beauteous-planted meads
    Where his train Eurotas leads,
    Visiting the loved retreats,
    Once my father's royal seats.
  CHORUS (singing)
    I come. What cares disturb thy rest?
      Why hast thou brought me to the shrine?
    Doth some fresh grief afflict thy breast?
      Why bring me to this seat divine?
    Thou daughter of that chief, whose powers
      Plough'd with a thousand keels the strand
    And ranged in arms shook Troy's proud towers
      Beneath the Atreidae's great command!
  IPHIGENIA (singing)
        O ye attendant train,
  How is my heart oppress'd with wo!
  What notes, save notes of grief, can flow,
    A harsh and unmelodious strain?
  My soul domestic ills oppress with dread,
  And bid me mourn a brother dead.
  What visions did my sleeping sense appall
    In the past dark and midnight hour!
        'Tis ruin, ruin all.
    My father's houses-it is no more:
  No more is his illustrious line.
    What dreadful deeds hath Argos known!
  One only brother, Fate, was mine;
    And dost thou rend him from me? Is he gone
  To Pluto's dreary realms below?
    For him, as dead, with pious care
        This goblet I prepare;
  And on the bosom of the earth shall flow
  Streams from the heifer mountain-bred,
    The grape's rich juice, and, mix'd with these,
    The labour of the yellow bees,
  Libations soothing to the dead.
  Give me the oblation: let me hold
  The foaming goblet's hallow'd gold.

    O thou, the earth beneath,
      Who didst from Agamemnon spring;
    To thee, deprived of vital breath,
      I these libations bring.
    Accept them: to thy honour'd tomb,
    Never, ah! never shall I come;
    Never these golden tresses bear,
    To place them there, there shed the tear;
    For from my country far, a hind
    There deem'd as slain, my wild abode I find.
  CHORUS (singing)
    To thee thy faithful train
      The Asiatic hymn will raise,
    A doleful, a barbaric strain,
      Responsive to thy lays,
    And steep in tears the mournful song,-
    Notes, which to the dead belong;
    Dismal notes, attuned to woe
    By Pluto in the realms below:
    No sprightly air shall we employ
    To cheer the soul, and wake the sense of joy.
  IPHIGENIA (singing)
      The Atreidae are no more;
    Extinct their sceptre's golden light;
    My father's house from its proud height
      Is fallen: its ruins I deplore.
    Who of her kings at Argos holds his reign,
    Her kings once bless'd? But Sorrow's train
    Rolls on impetuous for the rapid steeds
      Which o'er the strand with Pelops fly.
    From what atrocious deeds
      Starts the sun back, his sacred eye
    Of brightness, loathing, turn'd aside?
      And fatal to their house arose,
    From the rich ram, Thessalia's golden pride,
      Slaughter on slaughter, woes on woes:
    Thence, from the dead ages past,
      Vengeance came rushing on its prey,
      And swept the race of Tantalus away.
    Fatal to thee its ruthless haste;
      To me too fatal, from the hour
    My mother wedded, from the night
    She gave me to life's opening light,
      Nursed by affliction's cruel power.
    Early to me, the Fates unkind,
    To know what sorrow is assign'd:
    Me Leda's daughter, hapless dame,
      First blooming offspring of her bed
    (A father's conduct here I blame),
      A joyless victim bred;
      When o'er the strand of Aulis, in the pride
    Of beauty kindling flames of love,
    High on my splendid car I move,
      Betrothed to Thetis' son a bride:
    Ah, hapless bride, to all the train
    Of Grecian fair preferr'd in vain!
    But now, a stranger on this strand,
      'Gainst which the wild waves beat,
      I hold my dreary, joyless seat,
    Far distant from my native land,
    Nor nuptial bed is mine, nor child, nor friend.
      At Argos now no more I raise
      The festal song in Juno's praise;
    Nor o'er the loom sweet-sounding bend,
    As the creative shuttle flies;
    Give forms of Titans fierce to rise;
    And, dreadful with her purple spear,
      Image Athenian Pallas there:
    But on this barbarous shore
      The unhappy stranger's fate I moan,
    The ruthless altar stain'd with gore,
      His deep and dying groan;
    And, for each tear that weeps his woes,
    From me a tear of pity flows.
    Of these the sad remembrance now must sleep:
    A brother dead, ah me! I weep:
    At Argos him, by fate oppress'd,
    I left an infant at the breast,
    A beauteous bud, whose opening charms
    Then blossom'd in his mother's arms;
    Orestes, born to high command,
    The imperial sceptre of the Argive land.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    Leaving the sea-wash'd shore a herdsman comes
    Speeding, with some fresh tidings to thee fraught.
                                                 (A HERDSMAN enters.)
  HERDSMAN
    Daughter of Agamemnon, and bright gem
    Of Clytemnestra, hear strange things from me.
  IPHIGENIA
    And what of terror doth thy tale import?
  HERDSMAN
    Two youths, swift-rowing 'twixt the clashing rocks
    Of our wild sea, are landed on the beach,
    A grateful offering at Diana's shrine,
    And victims to the goddess. Haste, prepare
    The sacred lavers, and the previous rites.
  IPHIGENIA
    Whence are the strangers? from what country named?
  HERDSMAN
    From Greece: this only, nothing more, I know.
  IPHIGENIA
    Didst thou not hear what names the strangers bear?
  HERDSMAN
    One by the other was call'd Pylades.
  IPHIGENIA
    How is the stranger, his companion, named?
  HERDSMAN
    This none of us can tell: we heard it not.
  IPHIGENIA
    How saw you them? how seized them? by what chance?
  HERDSMAN
    Mid the rude cliffs that o'er the Euxine hang-
  IPHIGENIA
    And what concern have herdsmen with the sea?
  HERDSMAN
    To wash our herds in the salt wave we came.
  IPHIGENIA
    To what I ask'd return: how seized you them?
    Tell me the manner; this I wish to know:
    For slow the victims come, nor hath some while
    The altar of the goddess, as was wont,
    Been crimson'd with the streams of Grecian blood.
  HERDSMAN
    Our herds, which in the forest feed, we drove
    Amid the tide that rushes to the shore,
    'Twixt the Symplegades: it was the place,
    Where in the rifted rock the chafing surge
    Hath hallow'd a rude cave, the haunt of those
    Whose quest is purple. Of our number there
    A herdsman saw two youths, and back return'd
    With soft and silent step; then pointing, said,
    "Do you not see them? These are deities
    That sit there." One, who with religious awe
    Revered the gods, with hands uplifted pray'd,
    His eyes fix'd on them,-"Son of the sea-nymph
    Leucothoe, guardian of the labouring bark,
    Our lord Palaemon, be propitious to us!
    Or sit you on our shores, bright sons of Jove,
    Castor and Pollux? Or the glorious boast
    Of Nereus, father of the noble choir
    Of fifty Nereids?" One, whose untaught mind
    Audacious folly harden'd 'gainst the sense
    Of holy awe, scoff'd at his prayers, and said,-
    "These are wreck'd mariners, that take their seat
    In the cleft rock through fear, as they have heard
    Our prescribed rite, that here we sacrifice
    The stranger." To the greater part he seem'd
    Well to have spoken, and we judged it meet
    To seize the victims, by our country's law
    Due to the goddess. Of the stranger youths,
    One at this instant started from the rock:
    Awhile he stood, and wildly toss'd his head,
    And groan'd, his loose arms trembling all their length,
    Convulsed with madness; and a hunter loud
    Then cried,-"Dost thou behold her, Pylades?
    Dost thou not see this dragon fierce from hell
    Rushing to kill me, and against me rousing
    Her horrid vipers? See this other here,
    Emitting fire and slaughter from her vests,
    Sails on her wings, my mother in her arms
    Bearing, to hurl this mass of rock upon me!
    Ah, she will kill me! Whither shall I fly?"
    His visage might we see no more the same,
    And his voice varied; now the roar of bulls,
    The howl of dogs now uttering, mimic sounds
    Sent by the maddening Furies, as they say.
    Together thronging, as of death assured,
    We sit in silence; but he drew his sword,
    And, like a lion rushing mid our herds,
    Plunged in their sides the weapon, weening thus
    To drive the Furies, till the briny wave
    Foam'd with their blood. But when among our herds
    We saw this havoc made, we all 'gan rouse
    To arms, and blew our sounding shells to alarm
    The neighbouring peasants; for we thought in fight
    Rude herdsmen to these youthful strangers, train'd
    To arms, ill match'd; and forthwith to our aid
    Flock'd numbers. But, his frenzy of its force
    Abating, on the earth the stranger falls,
    Foam bursting from his mouth: but when he saw
    The advantage, each adventured on and hurl'd
    What might annoy him fallen: the other youth
    Wiped off the foam, took of his person care,
    His fine-wrought robe spread over him; with heed
    The flying stones observing, warded of
    The wounds, and each kind office to his friend
    Attentively perform'd. His sense return'd;
    The stranger started up, and soon perceived
    The tide of foes that roll'd impetuous on,
    The danger and distress that closed them round.
    He heaved a sigh; an unremitting storm
    Of stones we pour'd, and each incited each:
    Then we his dreadful exhortation heard:-
    "Pylades, we shall die; but let us die
    With glory: draw thy sword, and follow me."
    But when we saw the enemies advance
    With brandish'd swords, the steep heights crown'd with wood
    We fell in flight: but others, if one flies,
    Press on them; if again they drive these back,
    What before fled turns, with a storm of stones
    Assaulting them; but, what exceeds belief,
    Hurl'd by a thousand hands, not one could hit
    The victims of the goddess: scarce at length,
    Not by brave daring seized we them, but round
    We closed upon them, and their swords with stones
    Beat, wily, from their hands; for on their knees
    They through fatigue had sunk upon the ground:
    We bare them to the monarch of this land:
    He view'd them, and without delay to the
    Sent them devoted to the cleansing vase,
    And to the altar. Victims such as these,
    O virgin, wish to find; for if such youths
    Thou offer, for thy slaughter Greece will pay,
    Her wrongs to thee at Aulis well avenged.
  LEADER
    These things are wonderful, which thou hast told
    Of him, whoe'er he be, the youth from Greece
    Arrived on this inhospitable shore.
  IPHIGENIA
    'Tis well: go thou, and bring the strangers hither:
    What here is to be done shall be our care.
                                              (The HERDSMAN departs.)
      O my unhappy heart! before this hour
    To strangers thou wast gentle, always touch'd
    With pity, and with tears their tears repaid,
    When Grecians, natives of my country, came
    Into my hands: but from the dreams, which prompt
    To deeds ungentle, showing that no more
    Orestes views the sun's fair light, whoe'er
    Ye are that hither come, me will you find
    Relentless now. This is the truth, my friends:
    My heart is rent; and never will the wretch,
    Who feels affliction's cruel tortures, bear
    Good-will to those that are more fortunate.
    Never came gale from Jove, nor flying bark,
    Which 'twixt the dangerous rocks of the Euxine sea
    Brought Helen hither, who my ruin wrought,
    Nor Menelaus; that on them my foul wrongs
    I might repay, and with an Aulis here
    Requite the Aulis there, where I was seized,
    And, as a heifer, by the Grecians slain:
    My father too, who gave me birth, was priest.
    Ah me! the sad remembrance of those ills
    Yet lives: how often did I stroke thy cheek,
    And, hanging on thy knees, address thee thus:-
    "Alas, my father! I by thee am led
    A bride to bridal rites unbless'd and base:
    Them, while by thee I bleed, my mother hymns,
    And the Argive dames, with hymeneal strains,
    And with the jocund pipe the house resounds:
    But at the altar I by thee am slain;
    For Pluto was the Achilles, not the son
    Of Peleus, whom to me thou didst announce
    The affianced bridegroom, and by guile didst bring
    To bloody nuptials in the rolling car."
    But, o'er mine eyes the veil's fine texture spread,
    This brother in my hands who now is lost,
    I clasp'd not, though his sister; did not press
    My lips to his, through virgin modesty,
    As going to the house of Peleus: then
    Each fond embrace I to another time
    Deferr'd, as soon to Argos to return.
    If, O unhappy brother, thou art dead,
    From what a state, thy father's envied height
    Of glory, loved Orestes, art thou torn!-
    These false rules of the goddess much I blame:
    Whoe'er of mortals is with slaughter stain'd,
    Or hath at childbirth given assisting hands,
    Or chanced to touch aught dead, she as impure
    Drives from her altars; yet herself delights
    In human victims bleeding at her shrine.
    Ne'er did Latona from the embrace of Jove
    Bring forth such inconsistence: I then deem
    The feast of Tantalus, where gods were guests,
    Unworthy of belief, as that they fed
    On his son's flesh delighted; and I think
    These people, who themselves have a wild joy
    In shedding human blood, their savage guilt
    Charge on the goddess: for this truth I hold;
    None of the gods is evil, or doth wrong.
                                             (She enters the temple.)
  CHORUS (singing)

                                                            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 melancholy flight,
      Thy song attuned to notes of woe;
    The wise thy tender sorrows own,
    Which thy lost lord unceasing moan;
    Like thine, sad halcyon, be my strain,
      A bird, that have no wings to fly:
      With fond desire for Greece I sigh,
    And for my much-loved social train;
    Sigh for Diana, pitying maid,
      Who joys to rove o'er Cynthus' heights.
    Or in the branching laurel's shade,
      Or in the soft-hair'd palm delights,
    Or the hoar olive's sacred boughs,
    Lenient of sad Latona's woes;
    Or in the lake, that rolls its wave
    Where swans their plumage love to lave;
    Then, to the Muses soaring high,
    The homage pay of melody.

                                                        antistrophe 1

    Ye tears, what frequent-falling showers
      Roll'd down these cheeks in streams of woe,
    When in the dust my country's towers
      Lay levell'd by the conquering foe;
    And, to their spears a prey, their oars
    Brought me to these barbaric shores!
    For gold exchanged, a traffic base,
      No vulgar slave, the task is mine,
      Here at Diana's awful shrine,
    Who loves the woodland hind to chase,
    The virgin priestess to attend,
      Daughter of rich Mycenae's lord;
    At other shrines her wish to bend,
      Where bleeds the victim less abhorr'd:
    No respite to her griefs she knows;
    Not so the heart inured to woes,
    As train'd to sorrow's rigid lore:
    Now comes a change; it mourns no more:
    But lo long bliss when ill succeeds,
    The anguish'd heart for ever bleeds.

                                                            strophe 2

    Thee, loved virgin, freed from fear
    Home the Argive bark shall bear:
    Mountain Pan, with thrilling strain,
    To the oars that dash the main
    In just cadence well agreed,
    Shall accord his wax-join'd reed:
    Phoebus, with a prophet's fire
    Sweeping o'er his seven-string'd lyre,
    And his voice attuning high
    To the swelling harmony,
    Thee shall guide the wild waves o'er
    To the soft Athenian shore.
    Leaving me, thy oars shall sweep
    Eager o'er the foaming deep:
    Thou shalt catch the rising gales
    Swelling in thy firm-bound sails;
    And thy bark in gallant pride
    Light shall o'er the billows glide.

                                                        antistrophe 2

    Might I through the lucid air
    Fly where rolls yon flaming car,
    O'er those loved and modest bowers,
    Where I pass'd my youthful hours,
    I would stay my weary flight,
    Wave no more my pennons light,
    But, amid the virgin band,
    Once my loved companions, stand:
    Once mid them my charms could move,
    Blooming then, the flames of love;
    When the mazy dance I trod,
    While with joy my mother glow'd;
    When to vie in grace was mine,
    And in splendid robes to shine;
    For, with radiant tints impress'd,
    Glow'd for me the gorgeous vest;
    And these tresses gave new grace,
    As their ringlets shade my face.
                                       (THOAS and his retinue enter.)
  THOAS
    Where is the Grecian lady, to whose charge
    This temple is committed? Have her rites
    Hallow'd the strangers? Do their bodies burn
    In the recesses of the sacred shrine?
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    She comes, and will inform thee, king, of all.

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

 THOAS
    Daughter of Agamemnon, what means this?
    The statue of the goddess in thine arms
    Why dost thou bear, from its firm base removed?
  IPHIGENIA
    There in the portal, monarch, stay thy step.
  THOAS
    What of strange import in the shrine hath chanced?
  IPHIGENIA
    Things ominous: that word I, holy, speak.
  THOAS
    To what is tuned thy proem? Plainly speak.
  IPHIGENIA
    Not pure the victims, king, you lately seized.
  THOAS
    What showd thee this? Or speak'st thou but thy thought?
  IPHIGENIA
    Back turn'd the sacred image on its base.
  THOAS
    Spontaneous turn'd, or by an earthquake moved?
  IPHIGENIA
    Spontaneous, and, averted, closed its eyes.
  THOAS
    What was the cause? The blood-stain'd stranger's guilt?
  IPHIGENIA
    That, and naught else; for horrible their deeds.
  THOAS
    What, have they slain some Scythian on the shore?
  IPHIGENIA
    They came polluted with domestic blood.
  THOAS
    What blood? I have a strong desire to know.
  IPHIGENIA
    They slew their mother with confederate swords.
  THOAS
    O Phoebus! This hath no barbarian dared.
  IPHIGENIA
    All Greece indignant chased them from her realms.
  THOAS
    Bear'st thou for this the image from the shrine?
  IPHIGENIA
    To the pure air, from stain of blood removed.
  THOAS
    By what means didst thou know the stranger's guilt?
  IPHIGENIA
    I learn'd it as the statue started back.
  THOAS
    Greece train'd thee wise: this well hast thou discern'd.
  IPHIGENIA
    Now with sweet blandishments they soothe my soul.
  THOAS
    Some glozing tale from Argos telling thee?
  IPHIGENIA
    I have one brother: he, they say, lives happy,-
  THOAS
    That thou mayst save them for their pleasing news?
  IPHIGENIA
    And that my father lives, by fortune bless'd.
  THOAS
    But on the goddess well thy thoughts are turn'd.
  IPHIGENIA
    I hate all Greece; for it hath ruin'd me.
  THOAS
    What with the strangers, say then, should be done?
  IPHIGENIA
    The law ordain'd in reverence we must hold.
  THOAS
    Are then thy lavers ready, and the sword?
  IPHIGENIA
    First I would cleanse them with ablutions pure.
  THOAS
    In fountain waters, or the ocean wave?
  IPHIGENIA
    All man's pollutions doth the salt sea cleanse.
  THOAS
    More holy to the goddess will they bleed.
  IPHIGENIA
    And better what I have in charge advance.
  THOAS
    Doth not the wave ev'n 'gainst the temple beat?
  IPHIGENIA
    This requires solitude: more must I do.
  THOAS
    Lead where thou wilt: on secret rite I pry not.
  IPHIGENIA
    The image of the goddess I must cleanse.
  THOAS
    If it be stain'd with touch of mother's blood.
  IPHIGENIA
    I could not else have borne it from its base.
  THOAS
    Just is thy provident and pious thought;
    For this by all the state thou art revered.
  IPHIGENIA
    Know'st thou what next I would?
  THOAS
    'Tis thine thy will
    To signify.
  IPHIGENIA
    Give for these strangers chains.
  THOAS
    To what place can they fly?
  IPHIGENIA
    A Grecian knows
    Naught faithful.
  THOAS
    Of my train go some for chains.
                                            (Some attendants go out.)
  IPHIGENIA
    Let them lead forth the strangers.
  THOAS
    Be it so,
  IPHIGENIA
    And veil their faces.
  THOAS
    From the sun's bright beams?
  IPHIGENIA
    Some of thy train send with me.
  THOAS
    These shall go,
    Attending thee.
  IPHIGENIA
    One to the city send.
  THOAS
    With what instructions charged?
  IPHIGENIA
    That all remain
    Within their houses.
  THOAS
    That the stain of blood
    They meet not?
  IPHIGENIA
    These things have pollution in them.
  THOAS
    Go thou, and bear the instructions.
                                              (An attendant departs.)
  IPHIGENIA
    That none come
    In sight,
  THOAS
    How wisely careful for the city!
  IPHIGENIA
    Warn our friends most.
  THOAS
    This speaks thy care for me.
  IPHIGENIA
    Stay thou before the shrine.
  THOAS
    To what intent?
  IPHIGENIA
    Cleanse it with lustral fires.
  THOAS
    That thy return
    May find it pure?
  IPHIGENIA
    But when the strangers come
    Forth from the temple,-
  THOAS
    What must I then do?
  IPHIGENIA
    Spread o'er thine eyes a veil.
  THOAS
    That I receive not
    Pollution?
  IPHIGENIA
    Tedious if my stay appear,-
  THOAS
    What bounds may be assign'd?
  IPHIGENIA
    Deem it not strange.
  THOAS
    At leisure what the rites require perform.
  IPHIGENIA
    May this lustration as I wish succeed!
  THOAS
    Thy wish is mine.

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

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

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

  CHORUS (singing)

                                                              strophe

  Latona's glorious offspring claims the song,
    Born the hallow'd shades among,
  Where fruitful Delos winds her valleys low;
    Bright-hair'd Phoebus, skill'd to inspire
    Raptures, as he sweeps the lyre,
  And she that glories in the unerring bow.
    From the rocky ridges steep,
    At whose feet the hush'd waves sleep,
    Left their far-famed native shore,
    Them the exulting mother bore
    To Parnassus, on whose heights
    Bacchus shouting holds his rites;
    Glittering in the burnish'd shade,
    By the laurel's branches made,
    Where the enormous dragon lies,
    Brass his scales, and flame his eyes,
    Earth-born monster, that around
    Rolling guards the oracular ground;
    Him, while yet a sportive child,
    In his mother's arms that smiled,
    Phoebus slew, and seized the shrine
    Whence proceeds the voice divine:
    On the golden tripod placed,
    Throne by falsehood ne'er disgraced,
    Where Castalia's pure stream flows,
    He the fates to mortal shows.

                                                          antistrophe

    But when Themis, whom of yore
    Earth, her fruitful mother, bore,
    From her hallow'd seat he drove,
    Earth to avenge her daughter strove,
    Forming visions of the night,
    Which, in rapt dreams hovering light,
    All that Time's dark volumes hold
    Might to mortal sense unfold,
    When in midnight's sable shades
    Sleep the silent couch invades:
    Thus did Earth her vengeance boast.
    His prophetic honours lost,
    Royal Phoebus speeds his flight
    To Olympus, on whose height
    At the throne of Jove he stands,
    Stretching forth his little hands,
    Suppliant that the Pythian shrine
    Feel no more the wrath divine;
    That the goddess he appease;
    That her nightly visions cease.
    Jove with smiles beheld his son
    Early thus address his throne,
    Suing with ambitious pride
    O'er the rich shrine to preside;
    He, assenting, bow'd his head.
    Straight the nightly visions fled;
    And prophetic dreams no more
    Hover'd slumbering mortals o'er:
    Now to Phoebus given again,
    All his honours pure remain;
    Votaries distant regions send
    His frequented throne to attend:
    And the firm decrees of fate
    On his faithful voice await.
                                                (A MESSENGER enters.)
  MESSENGER
    Say you, that keep the temple, and attend
    The altar, where is Thoas, Scythia's king?
    Open these strong-compacted gates, and cal
    Forth from the shrine the monarch of the land.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    Wherefore? at thy command if I must speak.
  MESSENGER
    The two young men are gone, through the device
    Of Agamemnon's daughter: from this land
    They fly; and, in their Grecian galley placed,
    The sacred image of the goddess bear.
  LEADER
    Incredible thy tale: but whom thou seek'st,
    The monarch, from the temple went in haste.
  MESSENGER
    Whither? for what is doing he should know.
  LEADER
    We know not: but go thou, and seek for him:
    Where'er thou find him, thou wilt tell him this.
  MESSENGER
    See, what a faithless race you women are!
    In all that hath been done you have a part.
  LEADER
    Sure thou art mad! what with the strangers' flight
    Have we to do? But wilt thou not, with all
    The speed thou mayst, go to the monarch's house?
  MESSENGER
    Not till I first am well inform'd, if here
    Within the temple be the king, or not.
                                                           (Shouting)
    Unbar the gates (to you within I speak);
    And tell your lord that at the portal here
    I stand, and bring him tidings of fresh ills.

    (THOAS and his attendants enter from the temple.)

  THOAS
    Who at the temple of the goddess dares
    This clamour raise, and, thundering at the gates,
    Strikes terror through the ample space within?
  MESSENGER
    With falsehoods would these women drive me hence,
    Without to seek thee: thou wast in the shrine.
  THOAS
    With what intent? or what advantage sought?
  MESSENGER
    Of these hereafter; what more urgent now
    Imports thee, hear: the virgin, in this place
    Presiding at the altars, from this land
    Is with the strangers fled, and bears with her
    The sacred image of the goddess; all
    Of her ablutions but a false pretence.
  THOAS
    How say'st thou? What is her accursed design?
  MESSENGER
    To save Orestes: this too will amaze thee.
  THOAS
    Whom? What Orestes? Clytemnestra's son?
  MESSENGER
    Him at the altar hallow'd now to bleed.
  THOAS
    Portentous! for what less can it be call'd?
  MESSENGER
    Think not on that, but hear me; with deep thought
    Reflect: weigh well what thou shalt hear; devise
    By what pursuit to reach and seize the strangers.
  THOAS
    Speak: thou advisest well: the sea though nigh,
    They fly not so as to escape my spear.
  MESSENGER
    When to the shore we came, where station'd rode
    The galley of Orestes, by the rocks
    Conceal'd to us, whom thou hadst sent with her
    To hold the strangers' chains, the royal maid
    Made signs that we retire, and stand aloof,
    As if with secret rites she would perform
    The purposed expiation: on she went,
    In her own hands holding the strangers' chains
    Behind them: not without suspicion-this,
    Yet by thy servants, king, allow'd. At length,
    That we might deem her in some purpose high
    Employ'd, she raised her voice, and chanted loud
    Barbaric strains, as if with mystic rites
    She cleansed the stain of blood. When we had sat
    A tedious while, it came into our thought,
    That from their chains unloosed, the stranger youths
    Might kill her, and escape by flight: yet fear
    Of seeing what we ought not, kept us still
    In silence; but at length we all resolved
    To go, though not permitted, where they were.
    There we behold the Grecian bark with oars
    Well furnish'd, wing'd for flight; and at their seats,
    Grasping their oars, were fifty rowers; free
    From chains beside the stern the two youths stood
    Some from the prow relieved the keel with poles;
    Some weigh'd the anchors up; the climbing ropes
    Some hasten'd, through their hands the cables drew,
    Launch'd the light bark, and gave her to the main.
    But when we saw their treacherous wiles, we rush'd
    Heedless of danger, seized the priestess, seized
    The halsers, hung upon the helm, and strove
    To rend the rudder-bands away. Debate
    Now rose:-"What mean you, sailing o'er the seas,
    The statue and the priestess from the land
    By stealth conveying? Whence art thou, and who,
    That bear'st her, like a purchased slave, away?"
    He said, "I am her brother; be of this
    Inform'd; Orestes, son of Agamemnon:
    My sister, so long lost, I bear away,
    Recover'd here." But naught the less for that
    Held we the priestess, and by force would lead
    Again to thee: hence dreadful on our cheeks
    The blows; for in their hands no sword they held,
    Nor we; but many a rattling stroke the youths
    Dealt witb their fists, against our sides and breasts
    Their arms fierce darting, till our batter'd limbs
    Were all disabled: now with dreadful marks
    Disfigured, up the precipice we fly,
    Some bearing on their heads, some in their eyes
    The bloody bruises: standing on the heights,
    Our fight was safer, and we hurl'd at them
    Fragments of rocks; but, standing on the stern,
    The archers with their arrows drove us thence;
    And now a swelling wave roll'd in, which drove
    The galley towards the land. The sailors fear'd
    The sudden swell: on his left arm sustain'd,
    Orestes bore his sister through the tide,
    Mounted the bark's tall side, and on the deck
    Safe placed her, and Diana's holy image,
    Which fell from heaven; from the midship his voice
    He sent aloud:-"Ye youths, that in this bark
    From Argos plough'd the deep, now ply your oars,
    And dash the billows till they foam: those things
    Are ours, for which we swept the Euxine sea.
    And steer'd our course within its clashing rocks."
    They gave a cheerful shout, and with their oars
    Dash'd the salt wave. The galley, while it rode
    Within the harbour, work'd its easy way;
    But having pass'd its mouth, the swelling flood
    Roll'd on it, and with sudden force the wind
    Impetuous rising drove it back: their oars
    They slack'd not, stoutly struggling 'gainst the wave;
    But towards the land the refluent flood impell'd
    The galley: then the royal virgin stood,
    And pray'd:-"O daughter of Latona, save me,
    Thy priestess save; from this barbaric land
    To Greece restore me, and forgive my thefts:
    For thou, O goddess, dost thy brother love,
    Deem then that I love those allied to me."
    The mariners responsive to her prayer
    Shouted loud paeans, and their naked arms,
    Each cheering each, to their stout oars apply.
    But nearer and yet nearer to the rock
    The galley drove: some rush'd into the sea,
    Some strain'd the ropes that bind the loosen'd sails.
    Straight was I hither sent to thee, O king,
    To inform thee of these accidents. But haste,
    Take chains and gyves with thee: for if the flood
    side not to a calm, there is no hope
    Of safety to the strangers. Be assured,
    That Neptune, awful monarch of the main,
    Remembers Troy; and, hostile to the race
    Of Pelops, will deliver to thy hands,
    And to thy people, as is meet, the son
    Of Agamemnon; and bring back to the
    His sister, who the goddess hath betray'd,
    Unmindful of the blood at Aulis shed.
  LEADER
    Unhappy Iphigenia, thou must die,
    Thy brother too must die, if thou again,
    Seized in thy flight, to thy lord's hands shalt come.
  THOAS
    Inhabitants of this barbaric land,
    Will you not rein your steeds, will you not fly
    Along the shore, to seize whate'er this skiff
    Of Greece casts forth; and, for your goddess roused,
    Hunt down these impious men? Will you not launch
    Instant your swift-oar'd barks, by sea, by land
    To catch them, from the rugged rock to hurl
    Their bodies, or impale them on the stake?
    But for you, women, in these dark designs
    Accomplices, hereafter, as I find
    Convenient leisure, I will punish you.
    The occasion urges now, and gives no pause.
                                             (MINERVA appears above.)
  MINERVA
    Whither, O royal Thoas, dost thou lead
    This vengeful chase? Attend: Minerva speaks.
    Cease thy pursuit, and stop this rushing flood
    Of arms; for hither, by the fateful voice
    Of Phoebus, came Orestes, warn'd to fly
    The anger of the Furies, to convey
    His sister to her native Argos back,
    And to my land the sacred image bear.
    Thoas, I speak to thee: him, whom thy rage
    Would kill, Orestes, on the wild waves seized,
    Neptune, to do me grace, already wafts
    On the smooth sea, the swelling surges calm'd.
    And thou, Orestes (for my voice thou hear'st,
    Though distant far), to my commands attend:
    Go, with the sacred image, which thou bear'st,
    And with thy sister: but when thou shalt come
    To Athens built by gods, there is a place
    On the extreme borders of the Attic land,
    Close neighbouring to Carystia's craggy height,
    Sacred; my people call it Alae: there
    A temple raise, and fix the statue there,
    Which from the Tauric goddess shall receive
    Its name, and from thy toils, which thou, through Greece
    Driven by the Furies' maddening stings, hast borne;
    And mortals shall in future times with hymns
    The Tauric goddess there, Diana, hail.
    And be this law establish'd; when the feast
    For thy deliverance from this shrine is held,
    To a man's throat that they apply the sword,
    And draw the blood, in memory of these rites,
    That of her honours naught the goddess lose.
    Thou, Iphigenia, on the hallow'd heights
    Of Brauron on this goddess shalt attend
    Her priestess, dying shalt be there interr'd,
    Graced with the honours of the gorgeous vests
    Of finest texture, in their houses left
    By matrons who in childbed pangs expired.
    These Grecian dames back to their country lead,
    I charge thee; justice this return demands,
    For I saved thee, when on the mount of Mars
    The votes were equal; and from that decree
    The shells in number equal still absolve.
    But, son of Agamemnon, from this land
    Thy sister bear; nor, Thoas, be thou angry.
  THOAS
    Royal Minerva, he that hears the gods
    Commanding, and obeys not, is unwise.
    My anger 'gainst Orestes flames no more,
    Gone though he be, and bears with him away
    The statue of the goddess, and his sister.
    Have mortals glory 'gainst the powerful gods
    Contending? Let them go, and to thy land
    The sacred image bear, and fix it there;
    Good fortune go with them. To favour Greece,
    These dames, at thy high bidding, I will send.
    My arms will I restrain, which I had raised
    Against the strangers, and my swift-oar'd barks,
    Since, potent goddess, this is pleasing to thee.
  MINERVA
    I praise thy resolution; for the power
    Of Fate o'er thee and o'er the gods prevails.
    Breathe soft, ye favouring gales, to Athens bear
    These sprung from Agamemnon; on their course
    Attending, I will go, and heedful save
    My sister's sacred image. You too go (to the CHORUS)
    Prosperous, and in the fate that guards you bless'd.
                                                  (MINERVA vanishes.)
  CHORUS (chanting)
    O thou, among the immortal gods revered
    And mortal men, Minerva, we will do
    As thou commandest; for with transport high,
    Exceeding hope, our ears receive thy words.

    O Victory, I revere thy awful power:
    Guard thou my life, nor ever cease to crown me!


                                   -THE END-
