[IPHIGENIA _retires_.]
SCENE II
ORESTES (_recovering from his swoon and standing up_)
Give yet another! reach from Lethe"s stream The last reviving draught of cool refreshment!
Soon shall its waters in my bosom still Life"s fitful fever; and my spirit then Adown oblivion"s stream shall glide to you, Ye spirits shrouded in eternal mist.
With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose A weary son of earth may lave his soul!-- What whisp"ring sounds pervade the dreary grove?
What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom?-- They gather round to view the stranger guest!
Who are you troop in high communion met, Like an a.s.sembled family of princes?
They mingle peacefully, of every age, Of either s.e.x; G.o.dlike, of kindred mould, Appear the gliding figures. Yes, "tis they, The fathers of my race! With Atreus, In friendly converse glides Thyestes" shade, And children playfully around them sport.
Is there no enmity among you now?
And is revenge extinguish"d with the sun So am I also welcome, and may hope To mingle in your solemn company.
Welcome, my sires! Orestes bids you hail!
The seed that ye have sow"d, that hath he reap"d.
Laden with curses he descends to you.
But burdens here are lighter far to bear.
Receive him, oh, receive him in your circle!
Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes Here all are free from enmity and hate.-- Show me my father, whom I only once In life beheld.--Art thou my father, thou, My mother leading thus familiarly?
Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee Then may Orestes also draw near her, And say, Behold thy son!--My ancestors, Behold your son, and bid him welcome here.
Among the sons of ancient Tantalus, A kind salute on earth was murder"s watchword, And all their joys commence beyond the grave.
Ye welcome me! Ye bid me join your circle!
Oh, lead me to my honor"d ancestor!
Where is our aged sire? Let me behold The dear, the venerable head of him Who with the immortal G.o.ds in council sat.
Ye seem to shudder and to turn away!
What may this mean? Suffers the G.o.dlike man?
Alas! the mighty G.o.ds, with ruthless hate, To his heroic breast, with brazen chains, Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound.
SCENE III
ORESTES, IPHIGENIA, PYLADES
ORESTES
How! Are ye come already here below?
Welcome, my sister! Still Electra fails; O that some kindly G.o.d, with gentle arrow, Her too, full speedily, would downward send!
Thee, hapless friend, I must compa.s.sionate!
Come with me! Come! To Pluto"s gloomy throne, There to salute our hosts like stranger guests.
IPHIGENIA
Celestial pair, who from the realms above By night and day shed down the beauteous light To cheer mankind, but who may not illume Departed spirits, save a mortal pair!
A brother"s and a sister"s anguish pity!
For thou, Diana, lov"st thy gentle brother Beyond what earth and heaven can offer thee; And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn Thy virgin face to his eternal light.
[Ill.u.s.tration: MEETING OF ORESTES AND PYLADES]
Let not my only brother, found so late, Rave in the darkness of insanity!
And is thy will, when "thou didst here conceal me, At length fulfill"d,--wouldst thou to me through him To him through me, thy gracious aid extend,-- Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse, Lest vainly pa.s.s the precious hours of safety.
PYLADES
Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove, And this blest light, which shines not on the dead?
Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend, Who hold thee living in their firm embrace?
Us firmly grasp; we are not empty shades.
Mark well my words! Collect thy scatter"d thoughts!
Attend! Each moment is of priceless worth, And our return hangs on a slender thread, Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin.
ORESTES (_to_ IPHIGENIA)
My sister, let me for the first time taste, With open hearts pure joy within thine arms!
Ye G.o.ds, who charge the heavy clouds with dread, And sternly gracious send the long-sought rain With thunder and the rush of mighty winds, A horrid deluge on the trembling earth; Yet dissipate at length man"s dread suspense, Exchanging timid wonder"s anxious gaze For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise, When in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves, Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam, And Iris colors with a magic hand The dusty texture of the parting clouds; Oh, let me also in my sister"s arms, And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy With grateful thanks the bliss ye now bestow; My heart a.s.sures me that your curses cease.
The dread Eumenides at length retire, The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear Behind them closing with a thunderous clang.
A quick"ning odor from the earth ascends, Inviting me to chase, upon its plains, The joys of life and deeds of high emprize.
PYLADES
Lose not the moments which are limited!
The favoring gale, which swells our parting sail, Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.
Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.
ACT IV
SCENE I
IPHIGENIA
When the Powers on high decree For a feeble child of earth Dire perplexity and woe, And his spirit doom to pa.s.s With tumult wild from joy to grief, And back again from grief to joy, In fearful alternation; They in mercy then provide, In the precincts of his home, Or upon the distant sh.o.r.e, That to him may never fail Ready help in hours of need, A tranquil, faithful friend.
Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades, And whatsoever he may undertake!
He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth, And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel; For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower, And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours Comfort and counsel for the sore distressed.
He tore me from my brother, upon whom, With fond amaze, I gaz"d and gaz"d again; I could not realize my happiness, Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not The danger"s near approach that threatens us.
To execute their project of escape, They hasten to the sea, where in a bay Their comrades in the vessel lie conceal"d Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied With artful answers, should the monarch send To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see I must consent to follow like a child, I have not learn"d deception, nor the art To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.
Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve The breast like words of truth: it comforts not, But is a torment in the forger"s heart, And, like an arrow which a G.o.d directs, Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart One fear doth chase another; perhaps with rage, Again on the unconsecrated sh.o.r.e, The Furies" grisly band my brother seize.
Perchance they are surpris"d! Methinks, I hear The tread of armed men. A messenger Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.
How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul, Now that I gaze upon the face of one, Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
SCENE II
IPHIGENIA, ARKAS
ARKAS