Iphigenia in Tauris | Page 6

bonds,?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 gods ascribe a thirst for blood?Do misconceive their nature, and impute?To them their own inhuman dark desires.?Did not Diana snatch me from the priest,?Preferring my poor service to 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 shore?We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here?Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.?With them thy goddess 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 genial gales from Fate's rude grasp,?Safely 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,?And doth on all thy children rest,?E'en as thy pure and guardian light?Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch,?The beauty and the life of night.?O Goddess! keep my hands from blood!?Blessing it never brings, nor 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 raise?Awhile to their eternal heavens?His sympathetic joyous gaze.
ACT THE SECOND.
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, godlike 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 ignoble death--?So be it! Better at the altar here,?Than in a nook obscure, where kindred hands?Have spread assassination'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 shore! Thy life or death?Alone awakens in me hope or fear.
PYLADES.?Like thee, Orestes, I am not prepar'd?Downwards to wander to yon realm of shade.?I purpose still, through the entangl'd paths,?Which seem as they would lead to blackest night,?Again to guide our upward way to life.?Of death I think not; I observe and mark?Whether the gods 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 spread?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 ?gisthus[1]. 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 noble 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--
(Transcriber's Note 1: Original text read "Egisthus".)
PYLADES.?Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hell?Hold nightly converse! Of a time more fair?May the remembrance animate our hearts?To fresh heroic deeds. The gods 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 seiz'd the border of his robe.?And follow'd him!