Part 6 (2/2)
IPHIGENIA.
Speak less ambiguously.
Uncertainty around my anxious head Her dusky, thousand-folded, pinion waves.
ORESTES.
Have then the powers above selected me To be the herald of a dreadful deed, Which, in the drear and soundless realms of night, I fain would hide for ever? 'Gainst my will Thy gentle voice constrains me; it demands, And shall receive, a tale of direst woe.
Electra, on the day when fell her sire, Her brother from impending doom conceal'd; Him Strophius, his father's relative, With kindest care receiv'd, and rear'd the child With his own son, named Pylades, who soon Around the stranger twin'd the bonds of love.
And as they grew, within their inmost souls There sprang the burning longing to revenge The monarch's death. Unlookd for, and disguis'd, They reach Mycene, feigning to have brought The mournful tidings of Orestes' death, Together with his ashes. Them the queen Gladly receives. Within the house they enter; Orestes to Electra shows himself: She fans the fires of vengeance into flame, Which in the sacred presence of a mother Had burn'd more dimly. Silently she leads Her brother to the spot where fell their sire; Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-wash'd floor, With pallid streaks, antic.i.p.ate revenge.
With fiery eloquence she pictures forth Each circ.u.mstance of that atrocious deed,-- Her own oppress'd and miserable life, The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanour, The perils threat'ning Agamemnon's race From her who had become their stepmother; Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrusts, Which often in the house of Tantalus With savage fury rag'd,--and by her son Is Clytemnestra slain.
IPHIGENIA.
Immortal powers!
Whose pure and blest existence glides away 'Mid ever s.h.i.+fting clouds, me have ye kept So many years secluded from the world, Retain'd me near yourselves, consign'd to me The childlike task to feed the sacred fire, And taught my spirit, like the hallow'd flame, With never-clouded brightness to aspire To your pure mansions,--but at length to feel With keener woe the misery of my house?
Oh tell me of the poor unfortunate!
Speak of Orestes!
ORESTES.
Would that he were dead!
Forth from his mother's blood her ghost arose, And to the ancient daughters of the night Cries,--”Let him not escape,--the matricide!
Pursue the victim, dedicate to you!”
They hear, and glare around with hollow eyes, Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens They stir themselves, and from the corners creep Their comrades, dire Remorse and pallid Fear; Before them fumes a mist of Acheron; Perplexingly around the murderer's brow The eternal contemplation of the past Rolls in its cloudy circles. Once again The grisly band, commissioned to destroy, Pollute earth's beautiful and heaven-sown fields, From which an ancient curse had banish'd them.
Their rapid feet the fugitive pursue; They only pause to start a wilder fear.
IPHIGENIA.
Unhappy one; thy lot resembles his, Thou feel'st what he, poor fugitive, must suffer.
ORESTES.
What say'st thou? why presume my fate like his?
IPHIGENIA.
A brother's murder weighs upon thy soul; Thy younger brother told the mournful tale.
ORESTES.
I cannot suffer that thy n.o.ble soul Should be deceiv'd by error. Rich in guile, And practis'd in deceit, a stranger may A web of falsehood cunningly devise To snare a stranger;--between us be truth.
I am Orestes! and this guilty head Is stooping to the tomb, and covets death; It will be welcome now in any shape.
Whoe'er thou art, for thee and for my friend I wish deliverance;--I desire it not.
Thou seem'st to linger here against thy will; Contrive some means of flight, and leave me here: My lifeless corpse hurl'd headlong from the rock, My blood shall mingle with the das.h.i.+ng waves, And bring a curse upon this barbarous sh.o.r.e!
Return together home to lovely Greece, With joy a new existence to commence.
[ORESTES _retires_.
IPHIGENIA.
At length Fulfilment, fairest child of Jove, Thou dost descend upon me from on high!
How vast thine image! scarce my straining eye Can reach thy hands, which, fill'd with golden fruit And wreaths of blessing, from Olympus' height Shower treasures down. As by his bounteous gifts We recognize the monarch (for what seems To thousands opulence is nought to him), So you, ye heavenly Powers, are also known By bounty long withheld, and wisely plann'd.
Ye only know what things are good for us; Ye view the future's wide-extended realm; While from our eye a dim or starry veil The prospect shrouds. Calmly ye hear our prayers, When we like children sue for greater speed.
Not immature ye pluck heaven's golden fruit; And woe to him, who with impatient hand, His date of joy forestalling, gathers death.
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