Part 8 (2/2)

Nay, thou speak: 'tis from thee the sign should come.

ORESTES.

That will I.--First, old tales Electra told.

Thou knowest how Pelops' princes warred of old?

IPHIGENIA.

I know: the Golden Lamb that wrought their doom.

ORESTES.

Thine own hand wove that story on the loom...

IPHIGENIA.

How sweet! Thou movest near old memories.

ORESTES.

With a great Sun back beaten in the skies.

IPHIGENIA.

Fine linen threads I used. The memories come.

ORESTES.

And mother gave thee shrift-water from home For Aulis ...

IPHIGENIA.

I remember. Not so fair A day did drink that water!

ORESTES.

And thine hair They brought us for thy dying gift, and gave To mother.

IPHIGENIA.

Yes: for record on the grave I sent it, where this head should never lie.

ORESTES.

Another token, seen of mine own eye.

The ancient lance that leapt in Pelops' hand, To win his bride, the virgin of the land, And smite Oenomaus, in thy chamber hid ...

IPHIGENIA (falling into his arms).

Beloved! Oh, no other, for indeed Beloved art thou! In mine arms at last, Orestes far away.

ORESTES.

And thou in mine, the evil dreaming past, Back from the dead this day!

Yet through the joy tears, tears and sorrow loud Are o'er mine eyes and thine eyes, like a cloud.

IPHIGENIA.

Is this the babe I knew, The little babe, light lifted like a bird?

O heart of mine, too blest for any word, What shall I say or do?

Beyond all wonders, beyond stories heard, This joy is here and true.

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