Iphigenia in Tauris | Page 2

become the exile and the orphan.
ARKAS.?Dost thou then here seem exil'd and an orphan?
IPHIGENIA.?Can foreign scenes our fatherland replace?
ARKAS.?Thy fatherland is foreign now to thee.
IPHIGENIA.?Hence is it that my bleeding heart ne'er heals.?In early youth, when first my soul, in love,?Held father, mother, brethren fondly twin'd,?A group of tender germs, in union sweet,?We sprang in beauty from the parent stem,?And heavenward grew. An unrelenting curse?Then seiz'd and sever'd me from those I lov'd,?And wrench'd with iron grasp the beauteous bands.?It vanish'd then, the fairest charm of youth,?The simple gladness of life's early dawn;?Though sav'd, I was a shadow of myself,?And life's fresh joyance bloom'd in me no more.
ARKAS.?If thus thou ever dost lament thy fate,?I must accuse thee of ingratitude.
IPHIGENIA.?Thanks have you ever.
ARKAS.
Not the honest thanks

Which prompt the heart to offices of love;?The joyous glance, revealing to the host?A grateful spirit, with its lot content.?When thee a deep mysterious destiny?Brought to this sacred fane, long years ago.?To greet thee, as a treasure sent from heaven,?With reverence and affection, Thoas came.?Benign and friendly was this shore to thee,?Which had before each stranger's heart appall'd,?For, till thy coming, none e'er trod our realm?But fell, according to an ancient rite,?A bloody victim at Diana's shrine.
IPHIGENIA.?Freely to breathe alone is not to live.?Say, is it life, within this holy fane,?Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre?To linger out my days? Or call you that?A life of conscious happiness and joy,?When every hour, dream'd listlessly away,?Leads to those dark and melancholy days,?Which the sad troop of the departed spend?In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore??A useless life is but an early death;?This, woman's lot, is eminently mine.
ARKAS.?I can forgive, though I must needs deplore,?The noble pride which underrates itself?It robs thee of the happiness of life.?And hast thou, since thy coming here, done nought??Who cheer'd the gloomy temper of the king??Who hath with gentle eloquence annull'd,?From year to year, the usage of our sires,?By which, a victim at Diana's shrine,?Each stranger perish'd, thus from certain death?Sending so oft the rescued captive home??Hath not Diana, harbouring no revenge?For this suspension of her bloody rites,?In richest measure heard thy gentle prayer??On joyous pinions o'er the advancing host,?Doth not triumphant conquest proudly soar??And feels not every one a happier lot,?Since Thoas, who so long hath guided us?With wisdom and with valour, sway'd by thee,?The joy of mild benignity approves,?Which leads him to relax the rigid claims?Of mute submission? Call thyself useless! Thou,?Thou, from whose being o'er a thousand hearts,?A healing balsam flows? when to a race.?To whom a god consign'd thee, thou dost prove?A fountain of perpetual happiness,?And from this dire inhospitable shore?Dost to the stranger grant a safe return?
IPHIGENIA.?The little done doth vanish to the mind,?Which forward sees how much remains to do.
ARKAS.?Him dost thou praise, who underrates his deeds?
IPHIGENIA.?Who estimates his deeds is justly blam'd.
ARKAS.?We blame alike, who proudly disregard?Their genuine merit, and who vainly prize?Their spurious worth too highly. Trust me, priestess,?And hearken to the counsel of a man?With honest zeal devoted to thy service:?When Thoas comes to-day to speak with thee,?Lend to his purpos'd words a gracious ear.
IPHIGENIA.?The well-intention'd counsel troubles me:?His offer studiously I've sought to shun.
ARKAS.?Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh.?Since the king lost his son, he trusts but few,?Nor those as formerly. Each noble's son?He views with jealous eye as his successor;?He dreads a solitary, helpless age,?Or rash rebellion, or untimely death.?A Scythian studies not the rules of speech,?And least of all the king. He who is used?To act and to command, knows not the art,?From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse?Through many windings to its destin'd goal.?Do not embarrass him with shy reserve?And studied misconception: graciously,?And with submission, meet the royal wish.
IPHIGENIA.?Shall I then speed the doom that threatens me?
ARKAS.?His gracious offer canst thou call a threat?
IPHIGENIA.?'Tis the most terrible of all to me.
ARKAS.?For his affection grant him confidence.
IPHIGENIA.?If he will first redeem my soul from fear.
ARKAS.?Why dost thou hide from him thy origin?
IPHIGENIA.?A priestess secrecy doth well become.
ARKAS.?Nought to our monarch should a secret be;?And, though he doth not seek to fathom thine,?His noble nature feels, ay, deeply feels,?That studiously thou hid'st thyself from him.
IPHIGENIA.?Displeasure doth he harbour 'gainst me, then?
ARKAS.?Almost it seems so. True, he speaks not of thee.?But casual words have taught me that the wish?To call thee his hath firmly seiz'd his soul;?Oh, do not leave the monarch to himself!?Lest his displeasure, rip'ning in his breast,?Should work thee woe, so with repentance thou?Too late my faithful counsel