University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Ægisthus, Clytemnestra.
Cly.
Ægisthus, evermore I find thee thus
A prey to gloomy thoughts in solitude?
From me thou hidest thy corroding cares,
From me? ... Must I then see thee fly from her
Who breathes alone for thee?

Ægis.
I do confess
I am too much an alien in this palace.
'Tis true, thou trustest to me; and my foot
Within these thresholds I had never planted,
Hadst thou not fill'd the throne: I hither came,
Thou knowest, for thy sake, and here remain
For thee. But ah, the day, the fatal day,
Already is approaching, on the which,
Thou ... e'en thyself ... wilt banish me from hence.

Cly.
What saidst thou? I? and dost thou think it? no!
But little, nothing, do my oaths avail;
Thou for thyself shalt witness, if I cherish,
In this enamour'd bosom, any thought
Except of thee alone.

Ægis.
And though I were
Thy heart's sole object, yet, if I esteem
Thy honour more important than my life,
I should destroy, and will destroy myself,
Ere I disturb thy peace; or be the means
To obscure thy fame, or rob thee but in part
Of Agamemnon's love. From hence to go
A fugitive, neglected, and obscure,
This is the destiny to which I am doomed,
The unhappy offspring of accursed Thyestes.
I am accounted of an infamous sire,
Though innocent, the son more infamous still.
I want wealth, power, and arrogance of carriage,
To cancel the misfortune of my birth,
And the opprobrium of my father's name.
Not thus Atrides ... He returns renowned,
The conqueror of Troy; and can I hope
That he will e'er endure the sight in Argos,
Of the detested offspring of Thyestes,
His most implacable and mortal foe?

Cly.
If he return, his recent victories
Will, from his mind, obliterate all thought
Of animosities in years long past.
A conquering king will banish from his breast
Hatred towards one whom he no longer fears.

Ægis.
'Tis true, that, on my own account, I cannot
By any one be feared; alone, an exile,
Oppressed with wretchedness, bereft of power,
Atrides will not condescend to hate me;
But perhaps he may despise me; and would'st thou
That I stay'd here exposed to such an outrage?
Dost thou exhort me to do this, and love me?

Cly.
Thou lovest me, and yet canst entertain
The cruel thought of leaving me for ever?

Ægis.
'Tis useless now, oh queen, to flatter thee.
By hard necessity, I am compelled
To make a declaration of my thoughts.
Provided that Atrides could forget
The injuries of my father, canst thou hope
That he would not discover, or if he
Discovered, would dissemble his disgrace,
Feign not to see, or feign not to believe,
Our guilty outrage of his nuptial love?
If I stayed here I ought to avoid thy presence;
And should drag on a melancholy life,
Worse than the worst of deaths. If now and then
I came into thy sight, one sigh alone,
One gesture, might betray me: what would be
The consequence? 'Tis too, too true! The least,
Slightest suspicion in a proud king's heart
Makes those who are its objects culpable
Of every crime. I think not of myself;
Nought for myself I fear; I ought indeed
To give thee of true love this terrible proof.

Cly.
Perchance, who knows? more than thou dost suspect
The peril may be distant, or be past:
Many revolving moons have now return'd
Since fell the walls of Troy; yet still Atrides
Tarries, and still arrives not. Thou know'st well
It is reported, that the Grecian fleet,
By violent winds long driven, at length were scatter'd.
Perchance the day is come that brings to me
A sure revenge at last, though long delay'd,
For the unnatural murder of my daughter.

Ægis.
And if this were the day, ah would'st thou deign,
The illustrious widow of the king of kings,
To cast a look on me, the obscure branch
Of an abhorred blood? on me, the sport
Of inauspicious fate? on me, deprived
Of wealth, of arms, of subjects, and of friends?

Cly.
And add, of crimes.—'Tis true thou graspest not
The sceptre of Atrides; but the dagger,
Trickling and reeking with my daughter's blood,
I see not in thy hands. Ere from my breast
He dared to wrest my daughter, and to drag her
A bleeding victim to the impious altar,
I call the gods to witness, that my heart
Received Atrides for its sovereign lord;
Nor did another wake a wandering thought.
But the remembrance of that fatal day,
That horrible moment, with eternal grief,
And unimaginable rage, consumes me.
To give completion to the futile dreams
Of a crazed augur, as it was alleged,
But rather, I suspect, to gratify
The more atrocious, but less visionary,
Frantic ambition of a cruel father,
I saw my daughter immolated, torn
By stealth from me, under the false pretext
Of simulated marriage. From that day,
Down to this very time, I feel myself
Shudder with horror at the name alone
Of such a father. I have not since seen him;
And if to-day, at length, fortune betray'd him ...

Ægis.
Fortune will never turn her back on him,
Except he should have wearied her. 'Twas she
That to the shores of Xanthus led Atrides
Conductor of the Greeks; 'twas she that made him,
Rather than virtue, overcome, when there,
Th'implacable resentment of Achilles,
And Hector's valour: lastly, we shall see her
Once more enthrone him in expecting Argos,
Laden with trophies, arrogant from conquest.
A long time, no, shall not elapse ere thou
Shalt have Atrides by thy side; and he
Shall well know how thy anger to extinguish.
Pledges are living of your former love,
Electra and Orestes; pledges still
Of interchangeable and lasting peace:
E'en as the clouds disperse before the sun,
At his return the ill-starr'd love will fly,
Which now for me thou fosterest in thy breast.

Cly.
Orestes is conducive to my safety,
And to my heart Electra is most dear.
But still the tones of thy expiring voice,
Iphigenia, echo in my heart:
I hear thee cry, in supplicating accents,
Oh, mother! canst thou love my murderer?
No, no; I love him not.—Ægisthus, thou
Hadst been a different father to my children.

Ægis.
Ah, could I one day clasp them in my arms!
But that I ne'er must hope. In the dread future
I have nothing to expect but grief and shame,
Calamity and ruin. Yet my fate,
Whatever it may be, I here expect,
If 'tis thy will. Yes, here I will remain,
Since mine the danger is; if it were thine,
I should know how alone to fall the victim
Of an unhappy love.

Cly.
Ere that hour comes
I will inseparably join our fates.
Thy frank and modest language hath inflamed
My bosom more than ever: more and more
I see thou art worthy of a better fate.
But see, Electra comes; leave me with her:
I love her; and would fain attempt, at least,
To mould her inclinations in thy favour.