Part 4 (2/2)

ORESTES.

My friend, with wondrous skill thou link'st thy wish With the predestin'd purpose of the G.o.ds.

PYLADES.

Of what avail is prudence, if it fail Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven?

A n.o.ble man, who much hath sinn'd, some G.o.d Doth summon to a dangerous enterprize, Which to achieve appears impossible.

The hero conquers, and atoning serves Mortals and G.o.ds, who thenceforth honour him.

ORESTES.

Am I foredoom'd to action and to life, Would that a G.o.d from my distemper'd brain Might chase this dizzy fever, which impels My restless steps along a slipp'ry path, Stain'd with a mother's blood, to direful death; And pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood, For ever spouting from a mother's wounds, Eternally defiles me!

PYLADES.

Wait in peace!

Thou dost increase the evil, and dost take The office of the Furies on thyself.

Let me contrive,--be still! And when at length The time for action claims our powers combin'd, Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride, With cautious boldness to achieve the event.

ORESTES.

I hear Ulysses speak!

PYLADES.

Nay, mock me not.

Each must select the hero after whom To climb the steep and difficult ascent Of high Olympus. And to me it seems That him nor stratagem nor art defile Who consecrates himself to n.o.ble deeds.

ORESTES.

I most esteem the brave and upright man.

PYLADES.

And therefore have I not desir'd thy counsel.

One step is ta'en already: from our guards I have extorted this intelligence.

A strange and G.o.dlike woman now restrains The execution of that b.l.o.o.d.y law: Incense, and prayer, and an unsullied heart, These are the gifts she offers to the G.o.ds.

Her fame is widely spread, and it is thought That from the race of Amazon she springs, And hither fled some great calamity.

ORESTES.

Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its power At the approach of one so criminal, Whom the dire curse enshrouds in gloomy night.

Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for blood Again unchains the ancient cruel rite: The monarch's savage will decrees our death; A woman cannot save when he condemns.

PYLADES.

That 'tis a woman is a ground for hope!

A man, the very best, with cruelty At length may so familiarize his mind, His character through custom so transform, That he shall come to make himself a law Of what at first his very soul abhorr'd.

But woman doth retain the stamp of mind She first a.s.sum'd. On her we may depend In good or evil with more certainty.

She comes; leave us alone. I dare not tell At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile, And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again.

SCENE II.

IPHIGENIA. PYLADES.

IPHIGENIA.

Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.

(_She unbinds his chains._) The freedom that I give is dangerous: The G.o.ds avert the doom that threatens you!

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