University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Orestes, Electra and Pylades.
ORESTES.
How now Pylades? And Electra here!
Is this a time for wooing blandishments?
I thought my friend had been of purer mould,
Than in the turn and crisis of my life,
To yield to such soft weakness.

ELECTRA.
—Oh Orestes!—

ORESTES.
And thou too damsel, dar'st thou entertain
The smiling flatt'ry of a lover's suit,
While Heav'ns great ministers are all astir,
And on their thrones, th'eternal Gods themselves
Stand up expectant of a dreadful scene,—
Th'avenging of thy sire? His restless shade
Walks round us here, and frowns to see thee thus.

PYLADES.
Forbear Orestes; this unjust reproach—
Electra seeks but to escape the foul
And insolent Egysthus.

ORESTES.
Say'st thou so?

ELECTRA.
Oft has he glanc'd from his presumptuous eyes
A fervent, strange familiarity,
That thrill'd in horror through my trembling frame.

PYLADES.
To-day embolden'd by the rumour'd fiction
Of our defeat and fall in Lacedemon,
He dar'd to give his hideous passion words.

ORESTES.
Lie quiet yet awhile, impatient Sword!
Thou see'st, Pylades, 'tis as I have said;
My destiny is clear. What monstrous shames
Are rife among us: but, the end is come.
Behold in Heav'n th'appointed sign display'd.
The sun is smitten with the promis'd darkness;
And when the gloom is rounded and compleat,
Then shall be done that dread predestin'd deed,
Which, ever sounding to the utmost time,
Will wake the echoes of posterity!

ELECTRA.
O ye deep-working and mysterious Powers!
That 'tend on nature, in this great probation,
Sustain my weakness.

PYLADES.
By what prescience,
Hast thou, Orestes, known the coming on
Of this portentous sign; thus to unite
The issue of our purpose and the omen?
Though we have grown from boyhood up together,
Shar'd the same sports, the same instruction drawn,
Slept in one chamber, at one table far'd,
And been in all things free and confident,
As if one mind our sev'ral natures sway'd,
'Till the first scheme of this thy high intent;
Thou dost my thoughts with wonder so amaze,
That while I should thee better know than others,
There is no other still so strange to me.

ORESTES.
Do you remember ought that chanc'd to us
Upon the day of that recorded night,
On which you swore to link your fate to mine,
In the great enterprize that brings us here?

PYLADES.
Were we not hunting the nemean boar,
With certain nobles of my father's court?

ORESTES.
Ay, and had pitch'd our tents upon the hill,
Fronting the sea-indented Salamis.

PYLADES.
I have the spot all painted in my mind.
'Twas scarce a bow-shot from the little temple,
Which an old mariner of Negara,
In gratitude for some escape at sea,
Had rais'd to Neptune and the God of day,
Serving their rites himself. And now I think,
You came not with us to the woods that day,
But went to see the hoary mariner.

ORESTES.
Him often since I have re-visited.

PYLADES.
When I return'd, I found you sad and moody,
And then it was you spoke of this design.

ORESTES.
That antient mariner had in his day,
Seen many wonders of the sea and land,
And learnt mirac'lous science. He had pass'd
Beyond th'Aurora of our western world,
To where the orient kings on opal walk:
And with the bold Phœnecians he had sail'd,
To where the long-foreseeing Druids teach
The untamed Britons, that within the oak,
The guardian spirit of their isle resides.
Deep was he vers'd in starry processes,
And could predict by hieroglyphic skill,
The fortunes and the accidents of men.
Seeing me thoughtful and diseased at heart
To be this offcast from the ties of nature,
He ey'd me kindly, often question'd me
With curious inquisition, and essay'd
To find if ever in my youthful breast,
Insidious Love had its sedition sown.
When he had found me honest, free and chaste,
He took his tablets, and by mystic signs,
And antique emblems keenly scrutinized,
Told me that fate had form'd me to avenge
My father's death, and Heav'ns justice deal
Against my guilty mother:—bidding me,
Momentous aspects of the air and sky,
Nightly to note; nor to advance myself,
Till thrice three hundred days were past and gone.
Then if my resolution lasted firm,
To be at Argos on this day prepar'd;
When glorious Phœbus in the bright of noon,
Would veil his light, in signal of approval.
And lo! the God assumes the gloom predicted!

PYLADES.
How was't you told me not of this before?

ORESTES.
My heart long doubtful, scarcely to this hour
Was nerv'd for the dread feat. But yon eclipse
Has all the wav'ring hues of hesitation,
By its deep influence fix'd in one black.

ELECTRA.
Ha! fly Orestes—hasten from this spot.
It is the queen that comes.

ORESTES.
—Oh! Gods! my mother!
Retire Pylades; let me look at her.