University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE 1st.

—A Street in Argos.
Orestes—Pylades.
ORESTES.
Arcas will soon return—here wait his coming.
I must depart alone—

PYLADES.
Why force me from thee?

ORESTES.
Forbear—

PYLADES.
Not habit, nor the tyes of blood,
But sympathy of nature made us one;
We never have been sunder'd—hand in hand,
We still with equal pace have shap'd our course
Till this sad hour—our joys our griefs the same.
One cradle rock'd our infant sleep. Our sports
In youth the same; the same adventurous perils
Enur'd our growing strength to stem the battle—

ORESTES.
Were it to stem the battle, Pylades!
We were not now to part!

PYLADES.
Yet, let me join thee.
Each wish, new springing in thy mind, ere utter'd,
My ready zeal prevented. Grant me this.

ORESTES.
Brother, thou art unkind: it wrings my soul.
Strange doubts perplex—I will not long be absent.
There dwells the prophet. A brief word at once
Unveils the mystery. I go alone.
Farewel.

PYLADES.
Yet—go not thus in anger from me!

ORESTES.
Come, to my heart. And, if it seem, my brother,
That there beyond just time I linger—

PYLADES.
Well—

ORESTES.
Seek me.

PYLADES.
I shall not fail—this, this is kind.
One word—and then—farewell—

ORESTES.
Be brief—

PYLADES.
Orestes,
Now, by the vow that death should ne'er disjoin us,
When, prostrate at the hallow'd shrine of friendship,
Tears, for each other shed, gush'd forth; I charge thee
If the Seer threaten danger, call on me.—

ORESTES.
I would not live without thee. Art thou answer'd?

PYLADES.
Farewel. (Orestes goes.)
His gloomy silence awes my soul.

ARCAS
enters.
Where is Orestes? leave him not, I charge thee—

PYLADES.
Hast thou not prosper'd, Arcas?

ARCAS.
None are left
Of Troy's proud conquerors, save neglected veterans
Who dare not shew a scar. On every side
New dangers threat. Suspicion closely marks us.
E'en mid the license of the public feast
The guards are doubled, and each question'd stranger
Who falters in his answer—

PHANOR
—(to Arcas.)
Follow me.—

(guards enter.
ARCAS.
In what have I offended?

PHANOR.
Not unwatch'd
Hast thou held secret conference with men
Of sterner times, who shun us as a race
That have forgôt our fathers. Come thou forth
Where tortures shall force out unwilling truth.

ARCAS
—(looking on Pylades.)
Be sure, no torture shall unlock these lips.

PHANOR
—(to Pylades.)
Speak'st thou to him—thou too beware—his fate
Perchance impends o'er thee.

(Exeunt.
PYLADES.
Lost, lost Orestes!

(Exit.
SCENE changes to the Temple of Jupiter.
CALCHAS
—(to a Minister.)
Now let him enter. The clear sparkling flame
(Orestes slowly advances.
Gave no ungrateful sign—approach the altar.

ORESTES.
Hail!

CALCHAS.
Not reluctance, youth! nor ought of honor
Due to the Minister of highest Jove
Delay'd thy entrance: holy rites enjoin'd it:
And suppliant Kings must wait 'till fav'ring omens
Permit approach.—

ORESTES.
Hail Seer! I bring thee not
Off'rings of votive gold, and precious incense:
No victim led by me shall stain the altar.
If heav'n, ungifted, hears not him who calls,
Seer, I retire in silence.

CALCHAS.
There are gifts
Of higher rate than gold and hecatombs:
Gifts, which from op'ning heav'n draw blessings down:
The tribute of an uncorrupted heart.
If such thy offering, speak—

ORESTES.
My years are few.
As yet—these hands are pure—but—

CALCHAS.
Freely speak.

ORESTES.
If thou can read the heart, in mine behold
The bitter conflict of a troubled spirit,
That agonis'd by woe, doubt, fear, despair,
Dreads e'en the wreck of reason.—Seer, assist me.

CALCHAS.
Poor youth! I pity thee—I will assist thee—
My voice shall still the tumult of thy soul.

ORESTES
—(with vehemence.)
Not that—thou must not still my soul—oh rather
Urge to its height the storm, that so my arm
May execute its mission—holy Seer!
Thou talk'st to one of that disastrous mood
Whose mind no longer master of itself
Acts not its resolve. Seer! I am bound
To deeds that shock my nature. 'Tis most horrible!
Turn this to stone, (striking his breast)
that, at the name of mother
Sheds drops of blood, and I will do the deed!

(falls on the altar.
CALCHAS
—(after a pause.)
'Tis He—the long expected— (aside)
'tis th'avenger.
Thou must perform, unquestion'd, heavn's command

ORESTES
—(rising gradually almost to frenzy.)
Prophets may speak, and Oracles pronounce
“So move”—“this deed be done”—“'tis Heavn's command”—
But they forget that the poor instrument
To execute that will, is Man, weak Man.
Rocks, at the call divine, leap from their base,
Earth, at the word, deep to its centre shakes,
The sea, and the wing'd storm, and fiery bolt
Wait but a nod. Be these the instruments
To execute heavn's vengeance on the world.
But let not man be urg'd to shed man's blood.
What, if the guilt of an abandon'd woman
That slew her husband, calls down signal vengeance!
Must the son plunge a dagger in the heart
Of her who bore him?

CALCHAS.
Aid inspiring Jove!
Offspring of Agamemnon, Troy's great conqueror,
Orestes!—

ORESTES.
How—Orestes! why thus call
A wandering stranger, a lost wretch unknown?

CALCHAS
—(with enthusiastic dignity.)
I know thee—know thou me—'tis Calchas speaks.
I, I, the minist'ring Priest, stood at the altar:
This consecrated blade I hold before thee
Gleam'd in my hand, descending swift in act
To pierce the proffer'd bosom of thy sister,
Whom Agamemnon to Diana's shrine
Had led, his first-born, Iphigene, to slaughter.
The virgin knelt beneath me, and to heav'n
Look'd up with fearless eye. Before me, bow'd
The father, in his mantle veil'd from sight.
I heard his groan: deep as the groan of death.
The father felt: the chief of Greece obey'd.
Taught by thy father, son, obey the Gods.
Fir'd by thy sister—

ORESTES
—(seising his dagger.)
Seer—'tis done—thy dagger!

CALCHAS.
This never shall be stain'd with human blood.
It flashes on my mind. Thy zeal transports thee.
Hast thou forgotten it? not this the blade—
Heav'n, in fit time, will arm thee with a weapon
Forg'd for the dead.—

ORESTES
—(full of horror.)
'Tis true—the very blade,
(Said it not so?) with which she slew my Father.
So spake the Pythian: and that none, save that,
And trusted to me by a mother's hand
Must do its office. How shall I obtain it?

CALCHAS.
Go forth—thou shalt possess it—now delay not.
Go to thy father's tomb, invoke his shade:
There fate's portentous sign shall fix thy doom.
If unappeas'd the spirit claim revenge,
Strike, without dread—farewell.—

ORESTES.
Seer!—I obey—

(Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Tomb of Agamemnon.—His statue in armour on the sepulchre.
Electra. Phedra.
ELECTRA.
Forgive! dread spirit of my sire! forgive!
Bring me the bowl—the offerings—on the tomb
Lo, these I place: this, on the earth pour forth—
Heard you that hissing foam? the unhallow'd stream
Bubbles, and froths, and vanishes, in fumes
Loathsome to sense. And, lo! the earth beneath
Peel'd bare, as if the lightning, in its passage
Had scath'd it, marking out to unborn ages
A spot accurst, where grass nor herb shall spring.
To Clytemnestra go. I have obey'd
Her will. Relate, most solemnly I charge thee,
What thou hast witness'd here.—

PHEDRA.
I shall not fail.

(Exit.
ELECTRA.
Oh honor'd shade! that in the realms of night
Hast sense of human act (else wherefore this?)
(pointing to the earth.
Deign thou to pardon, that a daughter's hand
Has dar'd pollute thy sepulchre, with gifts
From her—who slew thee. I have none to offer—
But I will pour upon thy tomb, my Father!
Vows that more priz'd than incense of the east
Shall gratify thy spirit. Vows of vengeance:
Vengeance against thy slayers. Sire! assist me!
None breathe on earth who hear Electra's cry.
He, He, for whom alone, hope yet awhile
Sustain'd my soul, Orestes is no more.
The rather thou arise! that, at thy voice,
A woman's feeble arm may strike the blow
Resistless as Jove's thunder—Hark! some step
Approaches—here I may unseen retire
'Tis He—the Phocian whose unhallow'd tongue
Proclaim'd Orestes' death.

(conceals herself behind the tomb.
Pylades, Orestes, enter.
PYLADES.
Draw near the tomb.

ORESTES.
Give me the urn—no hand but mine may place it—

ELECTRA
—(starts forward.)
Yes—there is One—

ORESTES.
Thou! here—

ELECTRA.
Nay—start not, stranger!
Thou in my soul hast fixt a cureless wound:
Yet, if thy heart be human, sooth my woe!

ORESTES.
What is thy wish?

ELECTRA.
Give me, I pray, that urn—

ORESTES.
This cannot sooth thy woe.

ELECTRA.
Thou ne'er hast known
A sister's love—

ORESTES.
Alas!

ELECTRA.
Give me the urn—
So never may'st thou know that grief of heart
Which finds its only solace in the tear
That falls upon the dust of one most lov'd.—

ORESTES
—(aside to Pylades.)
How shall I act?

ELECTRA.
Thus—on my knee—

ORESTES.
Oh rise!

ELECTRA.
Consent, I pray—the tears steal down thy cheek!
Oh youth! thou can'st not now refuse my pray'r.

ORESTES
—(to Pylades.)
Rise—take it!—Friend! these gushing tears betray me—

PYLADES.
Be firm! 'twere dangerous to reveal the truth.—

ELECTRA
—(clasping the urn.)
Orestes! oh my brother! oh sole cause
For whom I have sustain'd year after year
The ills of loath'd existence! Thou art gone!
Thou too hast lest me! lest me, rest of hope,
To shed lone tears that bathe th'unfeeling urn.
Was it for this I snatcht thee from the cradle
When keen-ey'd murther thirsted for thy blood?
I rescued thee that thou in manhood's strength
Might rise th'avenger of a father's death:
Rise, the restorer of a glorious race
Which sprung from Jove! here, here, alas! thou liest.
While yet my hand has strength to hold the urn,
Oh while my lips now press the farewell kiss,
Strike, strike me dead, kind Heav'n! and thou, oh stranger!
(I have no kin, no friend, no brother left)
Here place Electra.—Blest alone in this,
That death unites her ashes with Orestes.—

ORESTES
—(bursting from Pylades.)
I will not be restrain'd—thou hast a Brother.
Behold Orestes here.—

ELECTRA.
Thou—thou—Orestes!

ORESTES.
Behold this well-known sign.—

ELECTRA.
Oh!

(shrieks.
ORESTES.
Trust the oath
Of vengeance breath'd on Agamemnon's tomb.

ELECTRA
—(rushing to his arms.)
I trust my heart—and do I hold thee living?
Oh, let me gaze on thee, thou godlike youth!
Clasp thee again! oh let me feel once more
The pressure of thy arms, and thy warm breath
That pours new life within me.

ORESTES.
Oh, my sister!
And is it thus we meet? how pale thy cheek!
Oh thou hast suffer'd much!

ELECTRA.
'Tis all forgotten—
Oh, golden light of day! and thou great Jove!
Hear my exulting voice!

PYLADES
—(interrupting her.)
Restrain, Electra!
These shouts of clamorous joy—

ELECTRA.
What envious stranger
Dares interrupt my transport?

ORESTES.
Look on him—
'Tis Pylades—my friend.

ELECTRA.
My second brother!
Thou com'st to share our triumph.

PYLADES.
Oh restrain
Thy transport—much I fear—

ELECTRA
—(interrupting him.)
What cause for fear?
Doubt'st thou success will crown us? 'tis Orestes!
Who can oppose him? so stood Hercules
When the Nemæan lion gasp'd beneath him.

ORESTES.
This is no hour of triumph—cease Electra!
This is the dreadful crisis mark'd by fate.
My Pylades! thou know'st that none on earth,
Save Agamemnon's offspring, must be present
When I invoke his shade, and claim the signal,
Dread harbinger of vengeance.

PYLADES.
I must leave thee—

ORESTES.
To Calchas go—there, in due time, expect me.— (Exit.)

Electra, hear! nor interrupt my words,
How strange soe'er—

ELECTRA.
Speak—not the dead more silent—

ORESTES.
It fits thee, but in part, and briefly, now,
To know how past my youth:—let this suffice:
Such lore, as suits a monarch, Strophius gave.
When the first down began to shade my cheek,
(A few fleet months now past) Strophius reveal'd
My birth, till then unknown; and at the shrine
Of Phœbus, bade me from the God enquire
My future fate—I went—a voice thus hail'd me.
“Son of a murder'd Father! thine to slay
“The slayers—they, by fraud, the chieftain smote.
“By fraud they perish. At thy twentieth year”
(Complete this day, e'en this, on which they hold
The feast of blood)—“to Argos go, thyself,
“The bearer of the tale that speaks thee dead.
“At midnight—in the bath—on the same spot
“Where bled Atrides—with the self-same weapon,
“That steel with which the wife her husband slew,
“Son, pierce thy mother's bosom”—at the word
I swoon'd—Electra— (she seems fainting.)


ELECTRA.
I am sick at heart—

ORESTES.
Oh thou hast more to hear, more dreadful far!

ELECTRA.
'Tis past—proceed—

ORESTES.
A voice of thunder rous'd me—
“Mortal! if thou dispute the will of heav'n,
“Hear thy dread sentence—thou shalt roam o'er earth
“Stranger to man. No house shall give thee shelter:
“No hospitable board afford thee food:
“The rock thy resting-place: thy fellowship
“With beasts of prey: foul leprosy shall eat
“Thy life, by lingering pangs slow worn away.”

ELECTRA
—(highly agitated.)
Brother, thou shalt obey. They knew not mercy.

ORESTES.
I dare not disobey—Look here, (shews his arm)
Electra!

ELECTRA.
'Tis horrible—

ORESTES.
And ne'er to be effac'd
But by the gushing blood of her who bore me—

ELECTRA.
Thrice, thrice she struck the blow, without remorse—
What follow'd, quickly speak—

ORESTES.
With shuddering awe
I bow'd, and touch'd the altar—then the voice
Spake as before. “To Argos, go, invoke
“Thy Father's shade: if, unappeas'd, the manes
“Claim justice, the fixt statue on his tomb
“Shall thrice, in sign of vengeance, wave his spear.”

ELECTRA
—(starting up.)
Shade of my Father! rise, and save Orestes.
Begin the invocation.—

ORESTES.
Yet—my sister!—

ELECTRA.
Why this delay?

ORESTES.
I have a secret grief.
I dread to utter it—

ELECTRA.
Confide in me.

ORESTES.
He knows it not, the friend, the bosom friend,
Who reads my heart—I would not shock his soul.
He, He, perhaps, would fly this fated wretch.—

ELECTRA.
Electra never—by our Father's spirit
Who watches o'er us, I conjure thee, speak.—

ORESTES.
Know, when my mother bleeds (so spake the voice)
Her furies from that hour shall goad me on,
(Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy,)
From land to land, 'till back to Greece I bring
From Tauris' shrine, with blood of strangers stain'd,
One sacred to Diana—this was utter'd:
And, that of all on earth, but One alone
Should watch my flight, and tend me at the hour
When Furies howl around me—

ELECTRA.
Lo! that one.
Mid direst woe, the Furies howling round,
Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy,
I, I, will tend thee; and my soul shall feel it
Bliss, all that earth can give. For thou, my Brother,
Wilt on this sheltering bosom rest thy brow:
And, when, at intervals, peace sooths thy soul,
Thou too wilt turn a kindred eye on mine,
And kindly look on me—delay no more.
Begin the invocation.—

ORESTES.
Now, Electra,
Gaze on the statue with unshrinking eye.
I dare not trust my senses. If it stir,
In silence follow me—Shade of my Father!
If unappeas'd thy manes:—if the blood
Of those who slew thee shall be shed for thine,
If 'tis thy awful mandate that the son
Should slay his mother—

(Mid peals of thunder and flashes of lightning the Statue waves the spear, and a voice cries “Vengeance, Vengeance, Vengeance.”)