University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

—A Street within the Walls of Argos.
Orestes bearing an Urn.—Pylades, Arcas.
ARCAS.
Brave youths! by friendship join'd, and now by fate
In common danger yok'd, here safely rest.
None know you here. I, in strange garb disguis'd,
Long absent from these walls, will venture on,
And timely caution give.—

PYLADES.
(pointing to Orestes.)
How deep his groan!
Grief, like the mildew on the bloom of spring,
Preys on his faded prime. Oh soothe his soul!

ARCAS
—(to Orestes.)
The oracle of Phœbus shall not fail.
Soon will your mission cease.

ORESTES.
Oh!

PYLADES.
Why that groan?

ARCAS.
He droops o'er-wearied—rest—behold the goal—
These are the walls of Argos. There, the palace
Tow'rs proudly eminent.

ORESTES.
Oh!

PYLADES.
Droop not, brother.

ARCAS.
Thou! whom these arms receiv'd, e'en from the cradle,
When sad Electra rescued thee from death,
Orestes! firmly execute thy charge.
Thou, Pylades! watch o'er him. Rouse his soul
By words that fire the hero. Here remain—
I will not long be absent.

(Exit.
PYLADES.
Lean on me.
Friend of my soul! thou more than brother, come,
Lean on this faithful breast!—tho' long the way,
And rough the mountain tract, I oft have seen thee
From dawn to night-fall urge the brindled wolf,
And laugh to scorn the partners of the chase,
That fainted in the noon-beam—silent—still—
Think on the race when you outstript the Phocian
Nam'd from his speed, the Brother of the wind.—

ORESTES
—(to himself.)
These are the walls of Argos.

PYLADES.
Look upon me—
Hast thou forgôt, when thou a boy didst wield
The cœstus weight, and level'd at a blow
Polydamas, who proud of giant size,
Unrival'd, buffeted in sport the wind?

ORESTES
—(to himself.)
There tow'rs the palace, proudly eminent.—

PYLADES.
Alas! the themes once wont to please, avail not!

ORESTES.
Oh dire disgrace! that Agamemnon's son
Should thus approach the palace of his fathers!
Thus lone, disguis'd, and stranger to his kin,
The midnight plunderer in the gloom that shrouds him,
Starts, as he falters on—Oh! Pylades!
We, in the light of day, 'mid wondering throngs,
When every eye gaz'd on us, oft have vow'd
To rush where glory summon'd us, tho' death
Stood at the goal, and held the wreath to crown us.
But—now—

PYLADES.
Thou must obey th'inspiring God.
By artifice, not force ensure success—
Rouse from despair—revenge thy father's death!

ORESTES.
By any deed but this—a mother's murther!

ARCAS
enters.
Brave youths! go boldly on—the palace gates
Are left without a guard: and Clytemnestra,
(So rumour speaks) lone broods o'er boding fears.

ORESTES
—(with horror.)
Not that the place—not this th'appointed hour—
At midnight—in the bath—where fell my father—
Not in obscure response Apollo spoke.

ARCAS.
First Orestes
Bear the feign'd tale to Clytemnestra's ear.
That done, on Agamemnon's tomb complete
The funeral rites. There claim th'appointed signal.
On that thy doom depends: on that, the faith
Due to the Delphic shrine. Thy father's image
Shall, as instinct with life, thrice wave his lance;
Or we are made the mockery of vain words,
And murder stalks unpunish'd—
(A festive chorus in the procession of Ægisthus is heard.)
Hark! that sound
As of some festive choir!

PHANOR
—(with some of Ægisthus's guards enters.)
What may this mean?
Why bends that mourner o'er the funeral urn?
Nought of disastrous portent on this day
Shall cloud rejoicing Argos—Hence!— (to Orestes.)


ORESTES.
Beware—

ARCAS.
Touch not that youth—we mean not to offend—

PHANOR.
Hence!

PYLADES.
Say, ere we depart, why rings the shout
Of joy and choral song?

PHANOR.
'Tis Argos' feast,
Her annual feast: when every slave, and captive
Free as his lord, the common banquet shares.

PYLADES.
What cause thus consecrates a nation's joy?

PHANOR.
Ægisthus's nuptials!

ORESTES.
(who, till now, had appear'd regardless of their discourse, bursts forward.)
Slave! 'tis false.

PYLADES.
Oh heed not—
Grief for the dead distracts him.

PHANOR.
On I haste
To join the pomp. Away, nor linger here,
Sullying with ill-tim'd gloom the general joy.

(Exit.
ORESTES
—drawing a dagger.
Come Pylades—he dies—a lion's nerve
Strengthens my sinews.

ARCAS.
Stay rash youth! you rush
On self-destruction—Guards and thronging crouds
Compass him round.—

ORESTES.
Nor guards, nor throngs avail,
When vengeance strikes the blow by justice doom'd,
It strikes like heav'ns wing'd bolt: earth quakes beneath it,
And all that live fly from the prostrate victim.
I will not be restrain'd—come—

ARCAS.
Pylades!
If thou regard his life, oh hold, detain him!

(the chorus is again heard.)
ORESTES.
That shout again! I will not be controul'd!
Oh may it rouse the thunder that but sleeps
At Jove's right hand!—Away—

PYLADES.
(restraining him.)
Orestes—friend!

ORESTES.
Ha!

PYLADES.
Hear me!

ORESTES.
Any pray'r—but that—but that—
Thou sway'st at will each impulse of my soul.—

PYLADES.
My brother!

ORESTES.
Do not, I beseech thee, urge
Thy influence o'er me—heard'st thou? 'tis his feast!
Base Argos revels for Ægisthus' nuptials!
It is Ægisthus, not a mother's breast
I haste to pierce.—

PYLADES.
The oracle decreed
Art should prevail, not force.

ORESTES
—(his hand on his breast.)
Here—here it speaks—
I want no other oracle. Stay thou—
Jove! let me strike him dead! I ask not life.
Farewell.—

(as he rushes out, Pylades embraces him.)
PYLADES.
We die together.—

ORESTES.
Stay, my brother!

PYLADES.
Lead on!

ORESTES.
But—they will slay—thee—

PYLADES.
Boldly go.—

ORESTES.
Mould, mould me at thy will—what shall I do?

PYLADES.
Swear, if thou meet the tyrant in mid triumph,
Thou wilt not strike him ere th'appointed time.

ORESTES.
An oath! to thee!—my friend! take my pledg'd hand.

ARCAS.
Oh virtuous youths! great Jove! in safety guide you.

(Exeunt.

SCENE 2d.

—The great Square.
The triumphal procession of Ægisthus.—He, in a car, adorn'd with garlands, drawn by four horses.—Music, Choral Hymn, Guards, People shouting.
Arcas, Orestes, Pylades, crossing the stage.
ARCAS.
I pray you, pass this way—avoid the press.

ORESTES.
E'en where thou wilt.

PHANOR
—seeing them.
Unmanner'd stranger! hence—
Bear off that funeral urn.—

ORESTES.
Let me pass on.—

PHANOR.
Guards! force him from the place—

ÆGISTHUS.
What means this tumult?

PHANOR.
Look not this way—oh King! some men, obscure,
Strangers, it seems, to Argos—

ÆGISTHUS.
Ha! an urn
Crossing our pomp! reveal your name, your country.
What here your purpose?—speak—

ORESTES.
Our country, Phocis:
Of race unknown to same.

ÆGISTHUS.
Whose ashes, Phocians
Rest in that urn?—

ORESTES.
—We bear to Clytemnestra—

ÆGISTHUS
—(interrupting him.)
The ashes of Orestes?—

ORESTES.
—in this urn—

ÆGISTHUS
—(descending from his car.)
Thrice welcome! strangers! share our joyful feast—
Not unrewarded you return from Argos.—
Give him that royal robe.—

ORESTES.
We seek no gifts—
We may not share the banquet—look on this. (the urn).

From Strophius we are come—the Lord of Phocis—
By whose command we bear the last remains
Of him that was Orestes—When he fell
Before the Altar of the Delphian God
Slain by an Argive,—

ÆGISTHUS.
—Cease—we reck not this—

ORESTES.
King! it imports thee much—When slander strikes
The fetter'd slave, he, bold in innocence,
Confronts the base accuser, and asserts
The dignity of virtue! hear, Ægisthus!
Orestes slew the wretch who pierc'd his breast;
And the Assassin with his dying breath,
Pronounced—

PYLADES
—(endeavouring to silence him.)
Peace, Brother!

ORESTES
—(not regarding him.)
—That Ægisthus sent him!

ÆGISTHUS
—(after a long pause.)
That urn, thou say'st, contains Orestes' ashes:
Why hither brought?—Phocis knows funeral rites.

ORESTES.
May not the ashes of a son repose
Where sleeps his sire?—May not one kindred tear
Be shed upon his urn, who never knew
In life the blessing of a kindred smile?

ÆGISTHUS.
Electra lives—a mother's tear, no doubt—

ORESTES.
—(aside.)
A mother!—

ÆGISTHUS.
—Go—to Clytemnestra bear
The ashes of her son—
(to his guards).
—Ye—safely guard him.—

(Exeunt.

SCENE 3d.

—An Apartment in the Palace.
Clytemnestra, Phedra.
PHEDRA.
Vainly I urg'd—Electra still refuses,
(No cause assign'd) from other hand than thine
To take the funeral offerings—Lo! the bowl—
And this the consecrated hair you sent— (presents them.)


CLYTEMNESTRA.
No other hand but hers, may bear the gift:
None left save her alone. 'Twas Calchas spoke it:
I may not disobey—conduct her hither— (Phedra goes.)

Omit whate'er these Prophets have enjoin'd,
All fails, and we, forewarn'd, provoke our doom.

Electra, and Phedra enter.
CLYTEMNESTRA
—(to Electra.)
Thou hast refus'd to bear my funeral offerings!

ELECTRA.
I dar'd not place them on my father's tomb,
'Till I had commun'd with thee—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Say—what cause?—

ELECTRA.
What cause? And dost thou ask? And shall I speak it.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Haply thou deem'dst it base, beneath thy birth,
To take these gifts from other hands than mine?

ELECTRA.
I long have suffer'd base indignities—
Lo these—

(her chains.)
CLYTEMNESTRA.
I bad Ægisthus free thee.

ELECTRA.
Yes,
He proffer'd—I refus'd—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Yet, in that guise,
Offerings were insult—

ELECTRA.
No—not that the insult—
This, this is profanation, when the woman
Who slew her husband, mocks his tomb with gifts.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Daughter—!

ELECTRA.
Oh would that I could answer—Mother!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
My soul is overcharged with horror. Spare me—

ELECTRA.
Therefore I came. 'Tis now the suited time
When words may pierce the soul. Oh! had I found thee
A thoughtless reveller, rob'd in nuptial pomp,
And smiling at the thron'd adulterer's side,
I never had addrest thee—now I view thee
Clad in the garb of woe: and thy pale hue
Marks the deep wound that festers in thy soul.
I see this, yet rejoice not: no, nor feel
The triumph that repays, exalts the opprest
When the oppressor falls. Behold these tears—
They stream for thee— (clasping Clytemnestra's hand.)


CLYTEMNESTRA.
And have I yet a child?

ELECTRA.
Oh pow'r of heav'n! now give me words of force
To change the soul. Turn not away, my mother!
No whisper of reproach shall wound thy ear.
We long have been estrang'd, not known each other:
For ever, at my coming, base Ægisthus
Stood like a fiend between us. Oh my mother,
Year after year has past unheeded o'er thee.
In the brief breathing space, this side the tomb
In mercy left, one moment yet is thine:
The present—Now.
Oh! on the tablet of eternity
Record it by contrition—

CLYTEMNESTRA
—(highly agitated, aside.)
Oh, I cannot!

ELECTRA.
Turn not away—not for myself I plead.
All, I forgive thee, all. I plead for one
Lov'd more than life. I plead for lorn Orestes:
For a lov'd brother; for thy son, I plead.
Recal the wanderer—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Oh!

ELECTRA.
At Argos crown him.
Restore him to the empire of his fathers;
So will I bear the votive gifts, and sooth
Him, him that was thy husband. I will tend
Thy troubled couch: nor leave thee at the hour
When guilt at death's approach shall rise before thee
A Fury arm'd. Repent, and crown Orestes.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Ah, haply at this hour, he too—

PHEDRA
enters.
Dread Queen!
Sent from Ægisthus, at the palace gates
A stranger youth—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
A stranger youth!

PHEDRA.
Who bears
A funeral urn.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
'Tis he—I come, I come—

ELECTRA.
Not yet—oh hear!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
My fate on him depends.

ELECTRA.
Now, on my knees, I pray one moment hear me.
I saw thy big tear tremble. Oh, my mother!
We never, since the day my father died,
Have known one common woe.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
No more detain me.
'Tis he—away—

ELECTRA
—(in anger.)
Dost thou despise my prayer?
I on my bended knee, have clasp'd thy hand.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Say, wilt thou bear these offerings to the dead?

ELECTRA.
Yes: or I ne'er shall view my father's tomb.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Away.— (Exit.)


ELECTRA
to Phedra.
Take thou the offerings—follow me.

(Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Gates of the Palace, magnificently decorated with trophies.
Phanor and Guards—Arcas, Orestes, Pylades.
PHANOR.
These are the gates with Ilium's trophies grac'd—
Pass not that threshold—here expect the Queen.

ORESTES
—(after a pause of wonder.)
Hail palace! and thou portal! o'er whose arch
The spoils of Troy by Agamemnon plac'd—

PYLADES
—(interrupting him, aside.)
Beware—we are observ'd—the guard yet lingers.

CLYTEMNESTRA
—(heard in entering.)
Where is the stranger? Clytemnestra greets him.

ORESTES
—(hearing her voice, looks up.)
Turn me to stone, or I am lost for ever.
(Clytemnestra, Electra, Phedra enter.)
Art thou the mother of Orestes?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Yes—

ORESTES.
Whom then behold I there, of royal port?

ELECTRA.
His sister.

ORESTES.
Thou—Electra!

ELECTRA.
What of him?

ORESTES.
Thou, that Electra! thou—Orestes' sister.

ELECTRA.
Long suffering bears the show of length of years.
Be but Orestes safe, and life new-born
Will glow in every vein—thou answer'st not—
Why art thou silent?

CLYTEMNESTRA
—(impatiently.)
Say, what brought thee hither?
Stranger! why thus transfixt in senseless woe?
Why gaze on her? I, I am Clytemnestra.

ORESTES.
I come the bearer of a mournful tale
To thee and to thy race.

ELECTRA.
Hah!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Youth! disclose it.

ORESTES.
Heav'n haply has possest thee with a spirit
That yields not to misfortune—on that brow— (Electra)

I note alas! the lineaments of one
Who will not hear my tale of woe, unmov'd—
Let her depart: and one brief word unfolds
My mournful mission.—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Hear'st thou not, Electra?

ELECTRA.
Speak it.

ORESTES.
I pray thee urge her to retire.

CLYTEMNESTRA
—(to Electra.)
Thou hear'st—

ELECTRA.
I stir not hence—my soul is dead
Alike to joy and grief, save that alone
Which from a brother flows—and if thou bring
Ought of Orestes, 'till thy voice reveal it,
No force shall hence remove me.—

ORESTES
—(to Electra.)
Arm thy soul—
Here lies, within this urn, what was Orestes.
An Argive basely slew him—We, from Phocis,
Bring this to place it in Atrides' tomb—
Thou hast my mission.—

ELECTRA.
Wherefore should I breathe?
I have no hope—earth! hide me in thy womb!

(falls down.)
ORESTES.
Oh let me raise thee!—

ELECTRA.
Touch me not, I charge thee.
Not with that hand that held Orestes' urn.
My Father! thou shalt hear, and aid Electra.—

(Exit.
ORESTES.
Oh!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Heed her not!—thy unexpected words
Have pierc'd my heart. Yet stranger! go not hence. (to all the others.)

You—stand apart—good youth!—

ORESTES
—(with horror.)
What would'st thou, woman?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Thy aid!

ORESTES.
I cannot aid thee—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Thou alone
Canst free my soul from agonising horror.
Gifts of rare worth shall crown thy prompt compliance.
A feast is in the palace held this night:
I shall not join the revels—while they banquet,
Meet me alone. Things of high import urge.
Why dost thou turn away?

ORESTES.
Meet thee alone!
Oh! ask not that!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
A heav'n-taught Seer enjoin'd it—
The prophet Calchas.—

ORESTES.
Ha! 'tis passing strange!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Say thou consent'st—

ORESTES.
I'll meet thee.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Lone—

ORESTES.
Expect me.—

(Exeunt.