[Antistrophe.]
Aye, and rejoice with thee; surely rejoice with thee,
Thou happy rover from the place of slaughter;
Thy foot shall stand again where thy father’s
stood.
PYLADES.
While he I love must die? ’Tis miserable.
DIVERS WOMEN OF THE CHORUS.
A. Alas, the deathward faring of the lost!
B. Woe, woe; thou too shalt move to misery.
C Which one shall suffer most?
D. My heart is torn by two words evenly,
For thee should I most sorrow, or for thee?
ORESTES.
By heaven, is THY thought, Pylades, like mine?
PYLADES.
O friend, I cannot speak.—But what is thine?
ORESTES.
Who can the damsel be? How Greek her tone
Of question, all of Ilion overthrown,
And how the kings came back, the wizard flame
Of Calchas, and Achilles’ mighty name,
And ill-starred Agamemnon. With a keen
Pity she spoke, and asked me of his queen
And children … The strange woman comes from
there
By race, an Argive maid.—What aileth her
With tablets, else, and questionings as though
Her own heart beat with Argos’ joy or woe?
PYLADES.
Thy speech is quicker, friend, else I had said
The same; though surely all men visited
By ships have heard the fall of the great kings.
But let that be: I think of other things …
ORESTES.
What? If thou hast need of me, let it be said.
PYLADES.
I cannot live for shame if thou art dead.
I sailed together with thee; let us die
Together. What a coward slave were I,
Creeping through Argos and from glen to glen
Of wind-torn Phocian hills! And most of men—
For most are bad—will whisper how one day
I left my friend to die and made my way
Home. They will say I watched the sinking breath
Of thy great house and plotted for thy death
To wed thy sister, climb into thy throne…
I dread, I loathe it.—Nay, all ways but one
Are shut. My last breath shall go forth with thine,
Thy bloody sword, thy gulf of fire be mine
Also. I love thee and I dread men’s scorn.
ORESTES.
Peace from such thoughts! My burden can be borne;
But where one pain sufficeth, double pain
I will not bear. Nay, all that scorn and stain
That fright thee, on mine own head worse would be
If I brought death on him who toiled for me.
It is no bitter thing for such an one
As God will have me be, at last to have done
With living. THOU art happy; thy house lies
At peace with God, unstained in men’s eyes;
Mine is all evil fate and evil life …
Nay, thou once safe, my sister for thy wife—
So we agreed:—in sons of hers and thine
My name will live, nor Agamemnon’s line
Be blurred for ever like an evil scroll.
Back! Rule thy land! Let life be in thy soul!
And when thou art come to Hellas, and the plain
Of Argos where the horsemen ride, again—
Give me thy hand!—I charge thee, let there be
Some death-mound and a graven stone for me.
My sister will go weep thereat, and shear
A tress or two. Say how I ended here,
Slain by a maid of Argolis, beside
God’s altar, in mine own blood purified.
And fare thee well. I have no friend like thee
For truth and love, O boy that played with me,
And hunted on Greek hills, O thou on whom
Hath lain the hardest burden of my doom!
Farewell. The Prophet and the Lord of Lies
Hath done his worst. Far out from Grecian skies
With craft forethought he driveth me, to die
Where none may mark how ends his prophecy!
I trusted in his word. I gave him all
My heart. I slew my mother at his call;
For which things now he casts me here to die.
PYLADES.
Thy tomb shall fail thee not. Thy sister I
Will guard for ever. I, O stricken sore,
Who loved thee living and shall love thee more
Dead. But for all thou standest on the brink,
God’s promise hath not yet destroyed thee. Think!
How oft, how oft the darkest hour of ill
Breaks brightest into dawn, if Fate but will!
ORESTES.
Enough. Nor god nor man can any more
Aid me. The woman standeth at the door.
[enter IPHIGENIA from the Temple.]
IPHIGENIA.
Go ye within; and have all things of need
In order set for them that do the deed.
There wait my word.
[ATTENDANTS go in.]
Ye strangers, here I hold
The many-lettered tablet, fold on fold.
Yet … one thing still. No man, once unafraid
And safe, remembereth all the vows he made
In fear of death. My heart misgiveth me,
Lest he who bears my tablet, once gone free,
Forget me here and set my charge at naught.
ORESTES. What wouldst thou, then? Thou hast some troubling thought.
IPHIGENIA.
His sworn oath let him give, to bear this same
Tablet to Argos, to the friend I name.
ORESTES.
And if he give this oath, wilt thou swear too?
IPHIGENIA.
What should I swear to do or not to do?
ORESTES.
Send him from Tauris safe and free from ill.
IPHIGENIA.
I promise. How else could he do my will?
ORESTES.
The King will suffer this?
IPHIGENIA.
Yes: I can bend
The King, and set upon his ship thy friend.
ORESTES.
Choose then what oath is best, and he will swear.
IPHIGENIA (to PYLADES, who has come up to her). Say: “To thy friend this tablet I will bear.”
PYLADES (TAKING THE TABLET).
Good. I will bear this tablet to thy friend.
IPHIGENIA.
And I save thee beyond this kingdom’s end.
PYLADES.
What god dost thou invoke to witness this?
IPHIGENIA.
Her in whose house I labour, Artemis.
PYLADES.
And I the Lord of Heaven, eternal Zeus.
IPHIGENIA.
And if thou fail me, or thine oath abuse …?
PYLADES.
May I see home no more. And thou, what then?
IPHIGENIA.
May this foot never tread Greek earth again.
PYLADES.
But stay: there is one chance we have forgot.
IPHIGENIA.
A new oath can be sworn, if this serve not.
PYLADES.
In one case set me free. Say I be crossed
With shipwreck, and, with ship and tablet lost
And all I bear, my life be saved alone:
Let not this oath be held a thing undone,
To curse me.
IPHIGENIA.
Nay, then, many ways are best
To many ends. The words thou carriest
Enrolled and hid beneath that tablet’s rim,
I will repeat to thee, and thou to him
I look for. Safer so. If the scrip sail
Unhurt to Greece, itself will tell my tale
Unaided: if it drown in some wide sea,
Save but thyself, my words are saved with thee.
PYLADES.
For thy sake and for mine ’tis fairer so.
Now let me hear his name to whom I go
In Argolis, and how my words should run.
IPHIGENIA (REPEATING THE WORDS BY HEART).
Say: “To Orestes, Agamemnon’s son
She that was slain in Aulis, dead to Greece
Yet quick, Iphigenia sendeth peace:”
ORESTES.
Iphigenia! Where? Back from the dead?
IPHIGENIA.
’Tis I. But speak not, lest thou break my thread.—
“Take me to Argos, brother, ere I die,
Back from the Friendless Peoples and the high
Altar of Her whose bloody rites I wreak.”
ORESTES (ASIDE).
Where am I, Pylades? How shall I speak?
IPHIGENIA.
“Else one in grief forsaken shall, like shame,
Haunt thee.”
PYLADES (aside).
Orestes!
IPHIGENIA (overhearing him).
Yes: that is the name.
PYLADES.
Ye Gods above!
IPHIGENIA.
Why callest thou on God
For words of mine?
PYLADES.
’Tis nothing. ’Twas a road
My thoughts had turned. Speak on.—No need for us
To question; we shall hear things marvellous.
IPHIGENIA.
Tell him that Artemis my soul did save,
I wot not how, and to the altar gave
A fawn instead; the which my father slew,
Not seeing, deeming that the sword he drew
Struck me. But she had borne me far away
And left me in this land.—I charge thee, say
So much. It all is written on the scroll.
PYLADES.
An easy charge thou layest on my soul,
A glad oath on thine own. I wait no more,
But here fulfil the service that I swore.
Orestes, take this tablet which I bear
To thine own hand, thy sister’s messenger.
ORESTES.
I take it, but I reck not of its scrip
Nor message. Too much joy is at my lip.
Sister! Beloved! Wildered though I be,
My arms believe not, yet they crave for thee.
Now, filled with wonder, give me my delight!
[he goes to embrace her. she stands speechless.]
LEADER.
Stranger, forbear! No living man hath right
To touch that robe. The Goddess were defiled!
ORESTES.
O Sister mine, O my dead father’s child,
Agamemnon’s child; take me and have no fear,
Beyond all dreams ’tis I thy brother here.
IPHIGENIA.
My brother? Thou? … Peace! Mock at me no more.
Argos is bright with him and Nauplia’s shore.
ORESTES.
Unhappy one! Thou hast no brother there.
IPHIGENIA.
Orestes … thou? Whom Clytemnestra bare?
ORESTES.
To Atreus’ firstborn son, thy sire and mine.
IPHIGENIA.
Thou sayst it: Oh, give me some proof, some sign!
ORESTES.
What sign thou wilt. Ask anything from home.
IPHIGENIA.
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.
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 god’s will drives; else …
ORESTES.
Else, unhappy one,
Thyself had spilt this day thy brother’s blood!
IPHIGENIA.
Ah God, 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.
Bloody 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 ship! … 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 God, too far, too far! …
Desolate! Desolate!
What god 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.
PYLADES.
Men that have found the arms of those they love
Would fain long linger in the joy thereof.
But we, Orestes, have no respite yet
For tears or tenderness. Let us forget
All but the one word Freedom, calling us
To live, not die by altars barbarous.
Think not of joy in this great hour, nor lose
Fortune’s first hold. Not thus do wise men use.
ORESTES.
I think that Fortune watcheth o’er our lives,
Surer than we. But well said: he who strives
Will find his gods strive for him equally.
IPHIGENIA.
He shall not check us so, nor baffle me
Of this one word. How doth Electra move
Through life? Ye twain are all I have to love.
ORESTES.
A wife and happy: this man hath her hand.
IPHIGENIA.
And what man’s son is he, and of what land?
ORESTES.
Son of King Strophios he is called of men.
IPHIGENIA.
Whom Atreus’ daughter wed?
—My kinsman then.
ORESTES.
Our cousin, and my true and only friend.
IPHIGENIA.
He was not born, when I went to mine end.
ORESTES.
No, Strophios had no child for many a year.
IPHIGENIA.
I give thee hail, husband of one so dear.
ORESTES.
My more than kinsman, saviour in my need!
IPHIGENIA.
But mother … Speak: how did ye dare that deed?
ORESTES.
Our father’s wrongs … But let that story be.
IPHIGENIA.
And she to slay her king! What cause had she?
ORESTES.
Forget her! … And no tale for thee it is.
IPHIGENIA.
So be it.—And thou art Lord of Argolis?
ORESTES.
Our uncle rules. I walk an exile’s ways.
IPHIGENIA.
Doth he so trample on our fallen days?
ORESTES.
Nay: there be those that drive me, Shapes of Dread.
IPHIGENIA.
Ah!
That frenzy on the shore! ’Tis as they said…
ORESTES.
They saw me in mine hour. It needs must be.
IPHIGENIA.
’Twas our dead mother’s Furies hounding thee!
ORESTES.
My mouth is bloody with the curb they ride.
IPHIGENIA.
What brought thee here beyond the Friendless Tide?
ORESTES.
What leads me everywhere—Apollo’s word.
IPHIGENIA.
Seeking what end?—Or may the tale be heard?
ORESTES.
Nay, I can tell thee all. It needs must be
The whole tale of my days of misery.
When this sore evil that we speak not of
Lit on my hand, this way and that they drove
My body, till the God by diverse paths
Led me to Athens, that the nameless Wraths
Might bring me before judgment. For that land
A pure tribunal hath, where Ares’ hand,
Red from an ancient stain, by Zeus was sent
For justice. Thither came I; and there went
God’s hate before me, that at first no man
Would give me shelter. Then some few began
To pity, and set out for me aloof
One table. There I sate within their roof,
But without word they signed to me, as one
Apart, unspoken to, unlocked upon,
Lest touch of me should stain their meat and sup.
And every man in measure filled his cup
And gave me mine, and took their joy apart,
While I sat silent; for I had no heart
To upbraid the hosts that fed me. On I wrought
In my deep pain, feigning to mark them not.
And now, men say, mine evil days are made
A rite among them and the cups are laid
Apart for each. The rule abideth still.
Howbeit, when I was come to Ares’ Hill
They gave me judgment. On one stone I stood,
On one she that was eldest of the brood
That hunted me so long. And many a word
Touching my mother’s death was spoke and heard,
Till Phoebus rose to save me. Even lay
The votes of Death and Life; when, lo, a sway
Of Pallas’ arm, and free at last I stood
From that death grapple. But the Shapes of Blood—
Some did accept the judgment, and of grace
Consent to make their house beneath that place
In darkness. Others still consented not,
But clove to me the more, like bloodhounds hot
On the dying; till to Phoebus’ house once more
I crept, and cast me starving on the floor
Facing the Holy Place, and made my cry:
“Lord Phoebus, here I am come, and here will die,
Unless thou save me, as thou hast betrayed.”
And, lo, from out that dark and golden shade
A voice: “Go, seek the Taurian citadel:
Seize there the carven Artemis that fell
From heaven, and stablish it on Attic soil.
So comes thy freedom.” [IPHIGENIA shrinks.]
Sister, in this toil
Help us!—If once that image I may win
That day shall end my madness and my sin:
And thou, to Argos o’er the sundering foam
My many-oared barque shall bear thee home.
O sister loved and lost, O pitying face,
Help my great peril; help our father’s race.
For lost am I and perished all the powers
Of Pelops, save that heavenly thing be ours!
LEADER.
Strange wrath of God hath fallen, like hot rain,
On Tantalus’ house: he leadeth them through pain.
IPHIGENIA.
Long ere you came my heart hath yearned to be
In Argos, brother, and so near to thee:
But now—thy will is mine. To ease thy pain,
To lift our father’s house to peace again,
And hate no more my murderers—aye,’tis good.
Perchance to clean this hand that sought thy blood,
And save my people…
But the goddess’ eyes,
How dream we to deceive them? Or what wise
Escape the King, when on his sight shall fall
The blank stone of the empty pedestal? …
I needs must die … What better can I do?
And yet, one chance there is: could I but go
Together with the image: couldst thou bear
Both on the leaping seas! The risk were fair.
But how?
Nay, I must wait then and be slain:
Thou shalt walk free in Argolis again,
And all life smile on thee … Dearest, we need
Nor shrink from that. I shall by mine own deed
Have saved thee. And a man gone from the earth
Is wept for. Women are but little worth.
ORESTES.
My mother and then thou? It may not be.
This hand hath blood enough. I stand with thee
One-hearted here, be it for life or death,
And either bear thee, if God favoureth,
With me to Greece and home, or else lie here
Dead at thy side.—But mark me: if thou fear
Lest Artemis be wroth, how can that be?
Hath not her brother’s self commanded me
To bear to Greece her image?—Oh, he knew
Her will! He knew that in this land we two
Must meet once more. All that so far hath past
Doth show his work. He will not at the last
Fail. We shall yet see Argos, thou and I.
IPHIGENIA.
To steal for thee the image, yet not die
Myself! ’Tis that we need. ’Tis that doth kill
My hope. Else … Oh, God knows I have the will!
ORESTES.
How if we slew your savage king?
IPHIGENIA.
Ah, no:
He sheltered me, a stranger.
ORESTES.
Even so,
If it bring life for me and thee, the deed
May well be dared.
IPHIGENIA.
I could not … Nay; indeed
I thank thee for thy daring.
ORESTES.
Canst thou hide
My body in the shrine?
IPHIGENIA.
There to abide
Till nightfall, and escape?
ORESTES.
Even so; the night
Is the safe time for robbers, as the light
For just men.
IPHIGENIA.
There be sacred watchers there
Who needs must see us.
ORESTES.
Gods above! What prayer
Can help us then?
IPHIGENIA.
I think I dimly see
One chance.
ORESTES.
What chance? Speak out thy fantasy.
IPHIGENIA’.
On thine affliction I would build my way.
ORESTES.
Women have strange devices.
IPHIGENIA.
I would say
Thou com’st from Hellas with thy mother’s blood
Upon thee.
ORESTES.
Use my shame, if any good
Will follow.
IPHIGENIA.
Therefore, an offence most high
It were to slay thee to the goddess!
ORESTES.
Why?
Though I half guess.
IPHIGENIA.
Thy body is unclean.—
Oh, I will fill them with the fear of sin!
ORESTES.
What help is that for the Image?
IPHIGENIA.
I will crave
To cleanse thee in the breaking of the wave.
ORESTES.
That leaves the goddess still inside her shrine,
And’tis for her we sailed.
IPHIGENIA.
A touch of thine
Defiled her. She too must be purified.
ORESTES.
Where shall it be? Thou knowest where the tide
Sweeps up in a long channel?
IPHIGENIA.
Yes! And where
Your ship, I guess, lies moored.
ORESTES.
Whose hand will bear—
Should it be thine?—the image from her throne?
IPHIGENIA.
No hand of man may touch it save mine own.
ORESTES.
And Pylades—what part hath he herein?
IPHIGENIA.
The same as thine. He bears the self-same sin.
ORESTES.
How wilt thou work the plan—hid from the king
Or known?
IPHIGENIA.
To hide it were a hopeless thing..
Oh, I will face him, make him yield to me.
ORESTES.
Well, fifty oars lie waiting on the sea.
IPHIGENIA.
Aye, there comes thy work, till an end be made.
ORESTES.
Good. It needs only that these women aid
Our secret. Do thou speak with them, and find
Words of persuasion. Power is in the mind
Of woman to wake pity.—For the rest,
God knoweth: may it all end for the best!
IPHIGENIA.
O women, you my comrades, in your eyes
I look to read my fate. In you it lies,
That either I find peace, or be cast down
To nothing, robbed for ever of mine own—
Brother, and home, and sister pricelessly
Beloved.—Are we not women, you and I,
A broken race, to one another true,
And strong in our shared secrets? Help me through
This strait; keep hid the secret of our flight,
And share our peril! Honour shineth bright
On her whose lips are steadfast … Heaven above!
Three souls, but one in fortune, one in love,
Thou seest us go—is it to death or home?
If home, then surely, surely, there shall come
Part of our joy to thee. I swear, I swear
To aid thee also home …
[she goes to one after another, and presently kneels embracing the knees of the LEADER.]
I make my prayer
By that right hand; to thee, too, by that dear
Cheek; by thy knees; by all that is not here
Of things beloved, by mother, father, child—
Thou hadst a child!—How say ye? Have ye smiled
Or turned from me? For if ye turn away,
I and my brother are lost things this day.
LEADER.
Be of good heart, sweet mistress. Only go
To happiness. No child of man shall know
From us thy secret. Hear me, Zeus on high!
IPHIGENIA (rising).
God bless you for that word, and fill your eye
With light!—
[turning to ORESTES and PYLADES.]
But now, to work! Go thou, and thou,
In to the deeper shrine. King Thoas now
Should soon be here to question if the price
Be yet paid of the strangers’ sacrifice.
[ORESTES and PYLADES go in.]
Thou Holy One, that on the shrouded sand
Of Aulis saved me from a father’s hand
Blood-maddened, save me now, and save these twain.
Else shall Apollo’s lips, through thy disdain,
Be no more true nor trusted in men’s eyes.
Come from the friendless shore, the cruel skies,
Come back: what mak’st thou here, when o’er the sea
A clean and joyous land doth call for thee?
[she follows the men into the temple.]
CHORUS.