University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Iphigenia.
Iph.
From Pelops, who in Pisa's dusty Course
Won the fair Daughter of Oenomaüs,
Sprang Atreus, Father of two noble Sons,
Great Menelas, and greater Agamemnon;
Of whom and Spartan Clytæmnestra born
Come I, the wretched Iphigenia:
I, whom my cruel Father, on that Coast,
Where the Euripus, vex'd by frequent Storms,
With restless Tumult rolls his curling Wave,
To chaste, Diana meant to offer up,
A spotless Sacrifice in Helen's Cause.
For by his Orders join'd, in Aulis' Bay
The Fleet of Greece, a Thousand Vessels, rode;
Impatient all to seize the Spoil of Troy,
The glorious Prize of War and Victory;
Impatient to avenge the foul Affront
Done to the Bed of Helen, and to shew
The gen'ral Love to injur'd Menelas.
But in the Harbour lock'd by adverse Winds,
Their Leader Agamemnon of the Gods
By Augury and Sacrifice inquir'd,
And by the Prophets, Heav'n's Interpreters;
When Calchas, the wise Seer, this Answer gave:
“Commander of th'united Arms of Greece,
“Ne'er shall thy Fate-bound Navy quit this Shore,
“Till Iphigenia, thy fair Daughter, bleed,
“An Off'ring to Diana: By a Vow
“Thou stand'st of old engag'd to sacrifice
“The fairest Produce of the Year to her,
“Whose Radiance chears the Night; and that same Year
“Did Clytæmnestra bring this Daughter forth,
“Who (for on me the rev'rend Seer bestow'd
“The Prize of Fairest) must be now the Victim.”
Then by the Artifice of sly Ulysses,
And under the Pretence of a feign'd Marriage
With young Achilles, was I brought to Aulis;
Inveigled from my Mother, and there laid
High on the Altar; and to ev'ry Eye
There did I seem to bleed; but chaste Diana
Stole me away unseen, and in my Stead
A fitter Victim gave, a sacred Hind:
Thence thro' the lucid Fields of Air convey'd,
She plac'd me here in Scythia, in whose Soil
O'er barb'rous Nations reigns a barb'rous King,
For winged Swiftness fam'd, and Thoas call'd.
Here hath the Goddess, in this sacred Fane,
Appointed me her Priestess, here to serve;
Where a detested Custom, sanctify'd
Under the specious Name of Sacrifice,
Too long hath been observ'd.—I say no more,
For dreadfull is thy Deity, Diana!
Yet thus much may I tell—Whatever Greek
(For so the ancient Statutes of the Realm
Ordain) here chanceth to arrive, forthwith
I lead him to the Altar, and begin
The solemn Sacrifice; the murd'rous Part
I leave to others, who retir'd within,
Deep in the Sanctuary's close Recess,
Perform the Rites, that may not be divulg'd.
Yet sure the Vision which last Night disturb'd
My troubled Spirit, to the empty Air
May without Blame be publish'd; and to tell it,
Tho' to the empty Air, may sooth my Grief.
Methought, that having chang'd this barb'rous Land
For my dear native Argos, there once more
I dwelt and slept amid my Virgin Train;
When, lo! a sudden Earthquake shook the Ground;
I from the tott'ring Chamber frighted fled,
And where I stood aloof, methought, beheld
The Battlements disjointed, and the Roof
From its aërial Height come tumbling down.
One only Pillar, as it seem'd, remain'd
Of all my Father's House; whose Capital
Was with dishevel'd golden Tresses hung,
And, stranger yet, with human Speech endow'd.
This Pillar, reverently acting then
The Duties of the Function here enjoin'd me,
I purify'd with Water, as ordain'd
For Sacrifice, and as I wash'd, I wept.
This was my Vision; which, I fear, portends
Thy Death, Orestes, whom in Emblem thus
I wash'd and purify'd for Sacrifice;
For Sons are Pillars of a Family;
And whomsoe'er I wash is doom'd to bleed.
Nor can this Vision to my Friends belong.
For when I perish'd on the Shore of Aulis
Old Strophius had no Son: therefore to thee,
Belov'd Orestes, will I pay the Rites
Due to the Dead, tho' absent—With my Train
Of Grecian Women, which King Thoas gave
Here to attend me, these may I perform.
But what unusual Cause with-holds their Presence
Now in the Temple, go I to inquire.

Exit Iphi.

SCENE II.

Enter Orestes and Pylades.
Ores.
Be wary, and take heed the Coast be clear.

Py.
My watchful Eyes are turn'd on ev'ry Side.

Ores.
What think'st thou, Pylades? is this the Temple
Which we from Argos steer'd our Course to find?

Py.
To me, and sure to thee, it seems no other.

Ores.
And this the Altar wet with Grecian Gore?

Py.
Behold the Top all crimson'd o'er with Blood!

Ores.
And see! those horrid Trophies! which in Air
Grin ghastly from the Temple's awful Dome!

Py.
These are the Spoils of slaughter'd Wanderers.

Ores.
Then to be circumspect imports us much.
Oh! Phœbus, wherefore hath thy Voice divine
Thus far engag'd me in this deadly Snare?
E'er since in Vengeance of my Father's Death
I slew my Mother, by the Furies driv'n,
Successively from Place to Place I flew,
A restless wretched Exile; ranging far
In painful Wandrings from my native Home;
Till coming to thy Shrine, of thee I sought,
How I might best restrain the whirling Rage
That drove me madding thro' out Greece? where find
A happy Respite from my ceaseless Toils?
Then didst thou bid me to the Taurick Shore
Direct my Voyage, to thy Sister's Shrine,
And bear the Statue of the Goddess thence,
Which, as those People tell, came down from Heav'n.
This, whether gain'd by Stratagem, or Force,
Or Fortune, in contempt of ev'ry Danger,
Thou to th'Athenians badest me convey;
Then (for no farther Task didst thou impose)
Peace didst thou promise me, and Rest from Woe.
Here therefore, in obedience to thy Word,
To an unknown, unhospitable Shore
I come—But, Pylades, thy Counsel now
Must I demand, since Friendship hath engag'd
Thee also to partake, and aid my Toil.
Say, how shall we proceed? Thou seest the Height
Of yon surrounding Tow'rs; departing hence
Shall we adventure by the winding Steps
To clime the Dome? but who shall be our Guide?
Or thro' the brazen Gates shou'd we resolve
To force our Passage; know we more of these?
And if in either Act we be surpriz'd,
Thou know'st we perish.—Rather let us fly
Back to the Vessel, which convey'd us hither.

Py.
Fly! no! we cannot, must not fly, Orestes;
We are not wont to fly; nor ought we sure
Thus to contemn the Oracles of Heav'n.
Yet from the Temple let us now depart,
And in the cavern'd Rocks, whose craggy Feet
The wild Wave washes, from our Vessels far
Ourselves conceal, lest any one perchance
The Bark descrying, shou'd inform the King,
And to superior Force we fall a Prey.
But when the dim and black-ey'd Night appears,
Then let us call our Courage to our Aid,
Try all the Arts and wily Pow'rs of Wisdom
To bear the polish'd Goddess from her Shrine.
May we not, think'st thou, thro' yon Aperture
That parts those sculptur'd Triglyphs, find the means
To let our Bodies down? “The brave defy
“And conquer Toil and Danger; while the Coward,
“Distrusting the Success, makes no attempt;
“Meanly content to do and to be nothing.

Ores.
Are we indeed, thro' such a Tract of Sea,
Come to the End perhaps of all our Toil,
Now baffled to return and deedless home?
Nay, Pylades, for well hast thou advis'd,
Let us obey the Gods—Depart we now;
And till the Night in some close Cavern hide.
“The Deity can never be in fault.
“Tho' his own Oracles unfaithfull prove.
“'Tis ours to labour, to attempt, to dare:
“Danger and Difficulty to the Young
“Are but a poor Excuse for doing nothing.”

Exeunt Orest. and Pyla.

SCENE III.

Enter Iphigenia.
Iph.
Inhabitants of Scythia, ye who dwell
Where between justling Rocks the Euxine foams,
And see him often close his craggy Jaws
On the forlorn and wandring Mariners;
Peace! nor disturb me with unhallow'd Sounds!
Mountain-Goddess of the Chace,
Sprung of Jove's divine Embrace,
Lo! with chaste unspotted Feet
I approach thy hallow'd Seat;
And with reverential Dread
To thy glitt'ring Temple tread;
To thy Dome, with Gold emblaz'd,
High on stately Columns rais'd!
There serve I, from all I lov'd
Far, alas! how far remov'd!
Far from Greece, my native Soil,
Fam'd for ev'ry warlike Toil;
Greece, for Steeds and Men renown'd,
Greece, with Tow'ry Cities crown'd.
Far from those Elysian Plains,
Where eternal Verdure reigns;
Where thro' high embow'ring Woods
Roll Eurota's chilling Floods;
Where deny'd to my sad Eyes
Agamemnon's Mansions rise.

Enter Chorus.
Cho.
Lo! here we come, obedient to thy Summons.
But say, what Tidings; whence this Brow of Care;
And wherefore hast thou call'd us to the Temple?
Say, princely Virgin, Daughter of that King,
Who in a thousand Vessels o'er the Main
Led the embattled Greeks to Ilion's Walls?

Iph.
Oh! Virgins, on a melancholy Strain
Is my sad Soul employ'd, a mournfull Dirge
Unmusical and harsh, alas! alas!
What bitter Sorrows from domestick Evils
Are fall'n upon me! while I mourn
A Brother's Death, to me declar'd
By the dire Vision, which last Night
In Dreams dismay'd my Soul!—
Alas! my Desolation is complete!
Fall'n is my Father's wretched Progeny,
And the whole Race is now now no more!—
What Miseries have they in Argos seen!—
Oh Fate! I had but one, one darling Brother,
And thou hast torn him from me, and has sent,
Untimely sent him to the Grave;
Him, for whose Manes I prepare
These mournfull Obsequies; and on the Ground
With all due Rites the mix'd Libation pour,
Blood, Water, Milk from Mountain Heifers drawn,
The Bee's sweet Tribute, and the Vine's rich Juice,
An Off'ring ever gratefull to the Dead.
Then hither bring the consecrated Bowl,
The Vase to Pluto sacred and to Death. [She takes the Bowl from the Chorus and pours out the Libation.]

“Offspring of Agamemnon, this to thee,
“Now wand'ring in the Shades below, I pour;
“And oh! accept the Boon! for on thy Grave
“Ne'er shall I offer up my Grief-shorn Locks,
“Nor wet thy Ashes with my streaming Tears.
“For far from that dear Land, that gave thee Birth
“Dwells thy sad Sister, in the borrow'd Form
“Of a young Hind there deem'd to have been slain.

Cho.
In Notes responsive to thy mournfull Strain,
In barbarous Asiatick Dialects,
To thee our royal Priestess will we sing
A solemn Service for the Dead,
A melancholy Dirge;
As solemn and as sad
As Pluto's joyless Songs compos'd for Woe.

Iph.
O princely Race of Atreus! now, where now
Is fled the Lustre of the Regal Crown?
My Father's Line, alas! is now extinct;
And who of all those potent Kings remains
Now to command in Argos?—Grief on Grief
Springs fresh each Morn with the revolving Sun;
Who from the Spectacle of our sad Woes
Once turn'd his lucid Eye, and fled away.
What a black Tide of Anguish, and Distress,
And Murder hath o'erwhelm'd our wretched House?
All from that fatal Source of Strife deriv'd,
The Golden Ram, whose rich Possession gave
A Title to the Crown. And how hath Heav'n
Aveng'd those Murders since on all our Race!
And me, even now with Woes unmerited,
Doth some malignant Dæmon still pursue,
That inauspicious Dæmon, who presided
At Clytæmnestra's Marriage; from which Hour,
Even from the luckless Moment of my Birth
The Destinies decreed Affliction to me;
And to Affliction did my Mother breed
And train me up, the first-born of her Bed,
To expiate with my Blood my Father's Guilt:
A Sacrifice unpleasing to the Gods.—
With what Congratulations, with what Vows,
On the gay Chariot was I plac'd,
And to the Sands of Aulis led,
To be the Bride—alas! disastrous Bride
Of the young Son of Thetis, great Achilles!—
But now on this inhospitable Shore
I dwell, in these unlovely Habitations
A helpless Stranger, without Husband, Child,
Or Country, or Relation, or a Friend.
I who was once in Marriage sought
By ev'ry noble Greek, no more
Shall henceforth join the Virgin Choir,
And Songs to Juno's Praise in Argos sing:
No more in the historick Loom
The Figure of Athenian Pallas trace,
And paint her Triumphs o'er the Giant-Race.
But here am doom'd to stain with Gore
The ruthless Altar, and to hear
The lamentable Groans, and thrilling Shrieks
Of bleeding Strangers, who for Pity plead,
And move my Bosom with imploring Tears.—
But I remember now these Woes no more;
And thou, Orestes, thou art all my Grief:
Thee I lament, and mourn thee dead;—
Thee, whom I left yet sucking at the Breast,
A tender Sapling in thy Mother's Arms,
And clinging to her Neck; thee, thee, Orestes,
The Prince of Argos, and in Hopes her King.