Part 9 (1/2)
ORESTES.
Could we but stay thus joined for evermore!
IPHIGENIA.
A joy is mine I may not understand, Friends, and a fear, lest sudden from my hand This dream will melt and soar Up to the fiery skies from whence it came.
O Argos land, O hearth and holy flame That old Cyclopes lit, I bless ye that he lives, that he is grown, A light and strength, my brother and mine own; I bless your name for it.
ORESTES.
One blood we are; so much is well. But Fate, Sister, hath not yet made us fortunate.
IPHIGENIA.
O most unfortunate! Did I not feel, Whose father, misery-hearted, at my bare Throat held the steel?
ORESTES.
Woe's me! Methinks even now I see thee there.
IPHIGENIA.
No love-song of Achilles! Crafty arms Drew me to that cold sleep, And tears, blind tears amid the altar psalms And noise of them that weep-- That was my cleansing!
ORESTES.
My heart too doth bleed, To think our father wrought so dire a deed.
IPHIGENIA.
My life hath known no father. Any road To any end may run, As G.o.d's will drives; else ...
ORESTES.
Else, unhappy one, Thyself had spilt this day thy brother's blood!
IPHIGENIA.
Ah G.o.d, my cruel deed! ... 'Twas horrible.
'Twas horrible ... O brother! Did my heart Endure it? ... And things fell Right by so frail a chance; and here thou art.
b.l.o.o.d.y my hand had been, My heart heavy with sin.
And now, what end cometh?
Shall Chance yet comfort me, Finding a way for thee Back from the Friendless Strand, Back from the place of death-- Ere yet the slayers come And thy blood sink in the sand-- Home unto Argos, home? ...
Hard heart, so swift to slay, Is there to life no way? ...
No s.h.i.+p! ... And how by land? ...
A rush of feet Out to the waste alone.
Nay: 'twere to meet Death, amid tribes unknown And trackless ways of the waste ...
Surely the sea were best.
Back by the narrow bar To the Dark Blue Gate! ...
Ah G.o.d, too far, too far! ...
Desolate! Desolate!
What G.o.d or man, what unimagined flame, Can cleave this road where no road is, and bring To us last wrecks of Agamemnon's name, Peace from long suffering?
LEADER.
Lo, deeds of wonder and beyond surmise, Not as tales told, but seen of mine own eyes.