The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 22

THOAS

This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.

IPHIGENIA

Before all others should the prince attend it.

THOAS

Thy sacred office, and ancestral right To Jove's own table, place thee with the G.o.ds In closer union than an earth-born savage.

IPHIGENIA

Thus must I now the confidence atone Thyself didst wring from me!

THOAS

I am a man.

And better 'tis we end this conference.

Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still Of the great G.o.ddess who selected thee; And may she pardon me, that I from her, Unjustly and with secret self-reproach, Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld.

From olden time no stranger near'd our sh.o.r.e But fell a victim at her sacred shrine.

But thou, with kind affection (which at times Seem'd like a gentle daughter's tender love, At times a.s.sum'd to my enraptur'd heart The modest inclination of a bride), Didst so inthral me, as with magic bowls, That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rock My senses in a dream: I did not hear My people's murmurs: now they cry aloud, Ascribing my poor son's untimely death To this my guilt. No longer for thy sake Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd, Who urgently demand the sacrifice.

IPHIGENIA

For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee.

Who to the G.o.ds ascribe a thirst for blood Do misconceive their nature, and impute To them their own inhuman dark desires.

Did not Diana s.n.a.t.c.h me from the priest, Holding my service dearer than my death?

THOAS

'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds, Lightly to guide and construe rites divine.

Perform thy duty; I'll accomplish mine.

Two strangers, whom in caverns of the sh.o.r.e We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.

With them thy G.o.ddess may once more resume Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!

I send them here,--thy duty not unknown.

[_Exit_.]

IPHIGENIA (_alone_)

Gracious protectress! thou hast clouds To shelter innocence distress'd, And from the arms of iron fate, Gently to waft her o'er the sea, O'er the wide earth's remotest realms, Where'er it seemeth good to thee.

Wise art thou,--thine all-seeing eye The future and the past surveys; Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest, E'en as thy light, the life of night, Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch.

O G.o.ddess! keep my hands from blood!

Blessing it never brings, and peace; And still in evil hours the form Of the chance-murder'd man appears To fill the unwilling murderer's soul With horrible and gloomy fears.

For fondly the Immortals view Man's widely scatter'd simple race; And the poor mortal's transient life Gladly prolong, that he may lift Awhile to their eternal heavens His sympathetic joyous gaze.

ACT II

SCENE I

ORESTES, PYLADES

ORESTES

It is the path of death that now we tread At every step my soul grows more serene.

When I implor'd Apollo to remove The grisly band of Furies from my side, He seem'd, with hope-inspiring, G.o.dlike words, To promise aid and safety in the fane Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.

Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself, That with my life shall terminate my woe.

How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crush'd, Whose sense is deaden'd by a hand divine, Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day!

And must the son of Atreus not entwine The wreath of conquest round his dying brow-- Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire, Bleed like a victim,--an ign.o.ble death-- So be it! Better at the altar here, Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands Have spread a.s.sa.s.sination's wily net.

Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers!

Ye, who, like loosen'd hounds, still scent the blood Which, trickling from my feet, betrays my path.

Leave me! ere long I come to you below.

Nor you, nor I, should view the light of day.

The soft green carpet of the beauteous earth Is no arena for unhallow'd fiends.

Below I seek you, where an equal fate Binds all in murky, never-ending night.

Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend, The guiltless partner of my crime and curse, Thee am I loath, before thy time, to take To yonder cheerless sh.o.r.e! Thy life or death Alone awakens in me hope or fear.

PYLADES

Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepared Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade.

I purpose still, through the entangled paths, Which seem as they would lead to blackest night, Again to wind our upward way to life.

Of death I think not; I observe and mark Whether the G.o.ds may not perchance present Means and fit moment for a joyful flight.

Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come; And though the priestess stood with hand uprais'd, Prepar'd to cut our consecrated locks, Our safety still should be my only thought; Uplift thy soul above this weak despair; Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril.

Apollo pledg'd to us his sacred word, That in his sister's holy fane for thee Were comfort, aid, and glad return prepar'd.

The words of Heaven are not equivocal, As in despair the poor oppress'd one thinks.

ORESTES

The mystic web of life my mother cast Around my infant head, and so I grew An image of my sire; and my mute look Was aye a bitter and a keen reproof To her and base aegisthus. Oh, how oft, When silently within our gloomy hall Electra sat, and mus'd beside the fire, Have I with anguish'd spirit climb'd her knee, And watch'd her bitter tears with sad amaze!

Then would she tell me of our n.o.ble sire How much I long'd to see him--be with him!

Myself at Troy one moment fondly wish'd, My sire's return, the next. The day arrived--

PYLADES

Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of h.e.l.l Hold nightly converse! Of a time more fair May the remembrance animate our hearts To fresh heroic deeds. The G.o.ds require On this wide earth the service of the good, To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee; For in thy father's train they sent thee not, When he to Orcus went unwilling down.

ORESTES

Would I had seized the border of his robe, And followed him!

PYLADES

They kindly cared for me Who held thee here; for hadst thou ceased to live, I know not what had then become of me; Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone, Have from my childhood liv'd, and wish to live.

ORESTES

Remind me not of those delightsome days, When me thy home a safe asylum gave; With fond solicitude thy n.o.ble sire The half-nipp'd, tender flow'ret gently rear'd: While thou, a friend and playmate always gay, Like to a light and brilliant b.u.t.terfly Around a dusky flower, didst day by day Around me with new life thy gambols urge, And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul, Until, my cares forgetting, I with thee Was lur'd to s.n.a.t.c.h the eager joys of youth.