University of Virginia Library

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.