Iphigenia in Tauris
 By Euripides
 
 
 Translated by Robert Potter
 
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 Dramatis Personae
 
 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
 
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 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.
 
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 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