The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01

I yield no higher honor or regardTo the king's daughter than the maid unknown;Once more my first proposal I repeat;Come follow me, and share what I possess.

IPHIGENIA

How dare I venture such a step, O king?Hath not the goddess who protected meAlone a right to my devoted head?'Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary,Where she perchance reserves me for my sire,By my apparent death enough chastis'd.To be the joy and solace of his age.Perchance my glad return is near; and how,If I, unmindful of her purposes,Had here attach'd myself against her will?I ask'd a signal, did she wish my stay.

THOAS

The signal is that still thou tarriest here.Seek not evasively such vain pretexts.Not many words are needed to refuse,The no alone is heard by the refused.

IPHIGENIA

Mine are not words meant only to deceive;I have to thee my inmost heart reveal'd.And doth no inward voice suggest to thee,How I with yearning soul must pine to seeMy father, mother, and my long-lost home?Oh let thy vessels bear me thither, king?That in the ancient halls, where sorrow stillIn accents low doth fondly breathe my name,Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child,May round the columns twine the fairest wreath.New life thou wouldst to me and mine impart.

THOAS

Then go! Obey the promptings of thy heart;And to the voice of reason and good counsel,Close thou thine ear. Be quite the woman, giveTo every wish the rein, that bridelessMay seize on thee, and whirl thee here and there.When burns the fire of passion in her breast,No sacred tie withholds her from the wretchWho would allure her to forsake for himA husband's or a father's guardian arms;Extinct within her heart its fiery glow,The golden tongue of eloquence in vainWith words of truth and power assails her ear.

IPHIGENIA

Remember now, O king, thy noble words!My trust and candor wilt thou thus repay?Thou seem'st, methinks, prepar'd to hear the truth.

THOAS

For this unlook'd-for answer not prepar'd.Yet 'twas to be expected; knew I notThat with a woman I had now to deal?

IPHIGENIA

Upbraid not thus, O king, our feeble sex!Though not in dignity to match with yours,The weapons woman wields are not ignoble.And trust me, Thoas, in thy happinessI have a deeper insight than thyself.Thou thinkest, ignorant alike of both,A closer union would augment our bliss;Inspir'd with confidence and honest zealThou strongly urgest me to yield consent;And here I thank the gods, who give me strengthTo shun a doom unratified by them.

THOAS

'Tis not a god, 'tis thine own heart that speaks.

IPHIGENIA

'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us.

THOAS

To hear them have I not an equal right?

IPHIGENIA

The raging tempest drowns the still small voice.

THOAS

This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.

IPHIGENIA

Before all others should the prince attend it.

THOAS

Thy sacred office, and ancestral rightTo Jove's own table, place thee with the godsIn closer union than an earth-born savage.

IPHIGENIA

Thus must I now the confidence atoneThyself didst wring from me!

THOAS

                              I am a man.And better 'tis we end this conference.Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess stillOf the great goddess who selected thee;And may she pardon me, that I from her,Unjustly and with secret self-reproach,Her ancient sacrifice so long withheld.From olden time no stranger near'd our shoreBut fell a victim at her sacred shrine.But thou, with kind affection (which at timesSeem'd like a gentle daughter's tender love,At times assum'd to my enraptur'd heartThe modest inclination of a bride),Didst so inthral me, as with magic bowls,That I forgot my duty. Thou didst rockMy senses in a dream: I did not hearMy people's murmurs: now they cry aloud,Ascribing my poor son's untimely deathTo this my guilt. No longer for thy sakeWill I oppose the wishes of the crowd,Who urgently demand the sacrifice.

IPHIGENIA

For mine own sake I ne'er desired it from thee.Who to the gods ascribe a thirst for bloodDo misconceive their nature, and imputeTo them their own inhuman dark desires.Did not Diana snatch me from the priest,Holding my service dearer than my death?

THOAS

'Tis not for us, on reason's shifting grounds,Lightly to guide and construe rites divine.Perform thy duty; I'll accomplish mine.Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shoreWe found conceal'd, and whose arrival hereBodes to my realm no good, are in my power.With them thy goddess may once more resumeHer ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!I send them here,—thy duty not unknown.

[Exit.]

IPHIGENIA (alone)

Gracious protectress! thou hast cloudsTo shelter innocence distress'd,And from the arms of iron fate,Gently to waft her o'er the sea,O'er the wide earth's remotest realms,Where'er it seemeth good to thee.Wise art thou,—thine all-seeing eyeThe future and the past surveys;Thy glance doth o'er thy children rest,E'en as thy light, the life of night,Keeps o'er the earth its silent watch.O Goddess! keep my hands from blood!Blessing it never brings, and peace;And still in evil hours the formOf the chance-murder'd man appearsTo fill the unwilling murderer's soulWith horrible and gloomy fears.For fondly the Immortals viewMan's widely scatter'd simple race;And the poor mortal's transient lifeGladly prolong, that he may liftAwhile to their eternal heavensHis sympathetic joyous gaze.

ACT II

SCENE I

ORESTES, PYLADES

ORESTES

It is the path of death that now we treadAt every step my soul grows more serene.When I implor'd Apollo to removeThe grisly band of Furies from my side,He seem'd, with hope-inspiring, godlike words,To promise aid and safety in the faneOf his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,That with my life shall terminate my woe.How easy 'tis for me, whose heart is crush'd,Whose sense is deaden'd by a hand divine,Thus to renounce the beauteous light of day!And must the son of Atreus not entwineThe wreath of conquest round his dying brow—Must I, as my forefathers, as my sire,Bleed like a victim,—an ignoble death—So be it! Better at the altar here,Than in a nook obscure, where kindred handsHave spread assassination's wily net.Yield me this brief repose, infernal Powers!Ye, who, like loosen'd hounds, still scent the bloodWhich, trickling from my feet, betrays my path.Leave me! ere long I come to you below.Nor you, nor I, should view the light of day.The soft green carpet of the beauteous earthIs no arena for unhallow'd fiends.Below I seek you, where an equal fateBinds all in murky, never-ending night.Thee only, thee, my Pylades, my friend,The guiltless partner of my crime and curse,Thee am I loath, before thy time, to takeTo yonder cheerless shore! Thy life or deathAlone awakens in me hope or fear.

PYLADES

Like thee, Orestes, I am not preparedDownwards to wander to yon realm of shade.I purpose still, through the entangled paths,Which seem as they would lead to blackest night,Again to wind our upward way to life.Of death I think not; I observe and markWhether the gods may not perchance presentMeans and fit moment for a joyful flight.Dreaded or not, the stroke of death must come;And though the priestess stood with hand uprais'd,Prepar'd to cut our consecrated locks,Our safety still should be my only thought;Uplift thy soul above this weak despair;Desponding doubts but hasten on our peril.Apollo pledg'd to us his sacred word,That in his sister's holy fane for theeWere comfort, aid, and glad return prepar'd.The words of Heaven are not equivocal,As in despair the poor oppress'd one thinks.

ORESTES

The mystic web of life my mother castAround my infant head, and so I grewAn image of my sire; and my mute lookWas aye a bitter and a keen reproofTo her and base Ægisthus. Oh, how oft,When silently within our gloomy hallElectra sat, and mus'd beside the fire,Have I with anguish'd spirit climb'd her knee,And watch'd her bitter tears with sad amaze!Then would she tell me of our noble sireHow much I long'd to see him—be with him!Myself at Troy one moment fondly wish'd,My sire's return, the next. The day arrived—

PYLADES

Oh, of that awful hour let fiends of hellHold nightly converse! Of a time more fairMay the remembrance animate our heartsTo fresh heroic deeds. The gods requireOn this wide earth the service of the good,To work their pleasure. Still they count on thee;For in thy father's train they sent thee not,When he to Orcus went unwilling down.

ORESTES

Would I had seized the border of his robe,And followed him!

PYLADES

                  They kindly cared for meWho held thee here; for hadst thou ceased to live,I know not what had then become of me;Since I with thee, and for thy sake alone,Have from my childhood liv'd, and wish to live.

ORESTES

Remind me not of those delightsome days,When me thy home a safe asylum gave;With fond solicitude thy noble sireThe half-nipp'd, tender flow'ret gently rear'd:While thou, a friend and playmate always gay,Like to a light and brilliant butterflyAround a dusky flower, didst day by dayAround me with new life thy gambols urge,And breathe thy joyous spirit in my soul,Until, my cares forgetting, I with theeWas lur'd to snatch the eager joys of youth.

PYLADES

My very life began when thee I lov'd.

ORESTES

Say, then thy woes began, and thou speak'st truly.This is the sharpest sorrow of my lot,That, like a plague-infected wretch, I bearDeath and destruction hid within my breast;That, where I tread, e'en on the healthiest spot,Ere long the blooming faces round betrayThe anguish'd features of a ling'ring death.

PYLADES

Were thy breath venom, I had been the firstTo die, that death, Orestes. Am I not,As ever, full of courage and of joy?And love and courage are the spirit's wingsWafting to noble actions.

ORESTES

                         Noble actions?Time was, when fancy painted such before us!When oft, the game pursuing, on we roam'dO'er hill and valley; hoping that ere long,Like our great ancestors in heart and hand,With club and weapon arm'd, we so might trackThe robber to his den, or monster huge.And then at twilight, by the boundless sea,Peaceful we sat, reclin'd against each other,The waves came dancing to our very feet,And all before us lay the wide, wide world;Then on a sudden one would seize his sword,And future deeds shone round us like the stars,Which gemm'd in countless throngs the vault of night.

PYLADES

Endless, my friend, the projects which the soulBurns to accomplish. We would every deedAt once perform as grandly as it showsAfter long ages, when from land to landThe poet's swelling song hath roll'd it on.It sounds so lovely what our fathers did,When, in the silent evening shade reclin'd,We drink it in with music's melting tones;And what we do is, as their deeds to them,Toilsome and incomplete!Thus we pursue what always flies before;We disregard the path in which we tread,Scarce see around the footsteps of our sires,Or heed the trace of their career on earth.We ever hasten on to chase their shades,Which, godlike, at a distance far remote,On golden clouds, the mountain summits crown.The man I prize not who esteems himselfJust as the people's breath may chance to raise him.But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks.That they through thee have early done so much.

ORESTES

When they ordain a man to noble deeds,To shield from dire calamity his friends,Extend his empire, or protect its bounds,Or put to flight its ancient enemies,Let him be grateful! For to him a godImparts the first, the sweetest joy of life.Me have they doom'd to be a slaughterer,To be an honor'd mother's murderer,And shamefully a deed of shame avenging,Me through their own decree they have o'erwhelm'd.Trust me, the race of Tantalus is doom'd;And I, his last descendant, may not perish,Or crown'd with honor or unstain'd by crime.

PYLADES

The gods avenge not on the son the deedsDone by the father. Each, or good or bad,Of his own actions reaps the due reward.The parents' blessing, not their curse, descends.

ORESTES

Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.

PYLADES

It was at least the mighty gods' decree.

ORESTES

Then is it their decree which doth destroy us.

PYLADES

Perform what they command, and wait the event.Do thou Apollo's sister bear from hence,That they at Delphi may united dwell,There by a noble-thoughted race revered,Thee, for this deed, the lofty pair will viewWith gracious eye, and from the hateful graspOf the infernal Powers will rescue thee.E'en now none dares intrude within this grove.

ORESTES

So shall I die at least a peaceful death.

PYLADES

Far other are my thoughts, and not unskill'dHave I the future and the past combin'dIn quiet meditation. Long, perchance,Hath ripen'd in the counsel of the godsThe great event. Diana yearns to leaveThe savage coast of these barbarians,Foul with their sacrifice of human blood.We were selected for the high emprize;To us it is assign'd, and strangely thusWe are conducted to the threshold here.

ORESTES

My friend, with wondrous skill thou link'st thy wishWith the predestin'd purpose of the gods.

PYLADES

Of what avail is prudence, if it failHeedful to mark the purposes of Heaven!A noble man, who much hath sinn'd, some godDoth summon to a dangerous enterprize,Which to achieve appears impossible.The hero conquers, and atoning servesMortals and gods, who thenceforth honor him.

ORESTES

Am I foredoom'd to action and to life,Would that a god from my distemper'd brainMight chase this dizzy fever, which impelsMy restless steps along a slipp'ry path.Stain'd with a mother's blood, to direful death;And pitying, dry the fountain, whence the blood,For ever spouting from a mother's wounds,Eternally defiles me!

PYLADES

                         Wait in peace!Thou dost increase the evil, and dost takeThe office of the Furies on thyself.Let me contrive,—be still! And when at lengthThe time for action claims our powers combin'd,Then will I summon thee, and on we'll stride,With cautious boldness to achieve the event.

ORESTES

I hear Ulysses speak.

PYLADES

                Nay, mock me not.Each must select the hero after whomTo climb the steep and difficult ascentOf high Olympus. And to me it seemsThat him nor stratagem nor art defilesWho consecrates himself to noble deeds.

ORESTES

I most esteem the brave and upright man.

PYLADES

And therefore have I not desir'd thy counsel.One step's already taken. From our guardsE'en now I this intelligence have gained.A strange and godlike woman holds in checkThe execution of that bloody lawIncense, and prayer, and an unsullied heart,These are the gifts she offers to the gods.Rumor extols her highly, it is thoughtThat from the race of Amazon she springs,And hither fled some great calamity.

ORESTES

Her gentle sway, it seems, lost all its powerWhen hither came the culprit, whom the curse,Like murky night, envelops and pursues.Our doom to seal, the pious thirst for bloodThe ancient cruel rite again unchainsThe monarch's savage will decrees our death;A woman cannot save when he condemns.

PYLADES

That 'tis a woman, is a ground for hope!A man, the very best, with crueltyAt length may so familiarize his mind,His character through custom so transform,That he shall come to make himself a lawOf what at first his very soul abhorr'd.But woman doth retain the stamp of mindShe first assum'd. On her we may dependIn good or evil with more certainty.She comes; leave us alone. I dare not tellAt once our names, nor unreserv'd confideOur fortunes to her. Now retire awhile,And ere she speaks with thee we'll meet again.

SCENE II

IPHIGENIA, PYLADES

IPHIGENIA

Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearingStamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.

[She unbinds his chains.]

The freedom that I give is dangerous;The gods avert the doom that threatens you!

PYLADES

Delicious music! dearly welcome tonesOf our own language in a foreign landWith joy my captive eye once more beholdsThe azure mountains of my native coast.Oh, let this joy that I, too, am a GreekConvince thee, priestess! How I need thine aid,A moment I forget, my spirit raptIn contemplation of so fair a vision.If fate's dread mandate doth not seal thy lips,From which of our illustrious races say,Dost thou thy godlike origin derive?

IPHIGENIA

The priestess whom the goddess hath herselfSelected and ordained, doth speak with thee.Let that suffice: but tell me, who art thou,And what unbless'd o'erruling destinyHath hither led thee with thy friend?

PYLADES

                             The woe,Whose hateful presence ever dogs our steps,I can with ease relate. Oh, would that thouCouldst with like ease, divine one, shed on usOne ray of cheering hope! We are from Crete,Adrastus' sons, and I, the youngest born,Named Cephalus; my eldest brother, he,Laodamas. Between us stood a youthSavage and wild, who severed e'en in sportThe joy and concord of our early youth.Long as our father led his powers at Troy,Passive our mother's mandate we obey'd;But when, enrich'd with booty, he return'd,And shortly after died, a contest fierceBoth for the kingdom and their father's wealth,His children parted. I the eldest joined;He slew our brother; and the Furies henceFor kindred murder dog his restless steps.But to this savage shore the Delphian godHath sent us, cheer'd by hope. He bade us waitWithin his sister's consecrated faneThe blessed hand of aid. Captives we are,And, hither brought, before thee now we standOrdain'd for sacrifice. My tale is told.

IPHIGENIA

Fell Troy! Dear man, assure me of its fall.

PYLADES

Prostrate it lies. O unto us ensureDeliverance. The promised aid of HeavenMore swiftly bring. Take pity on my brother.O say to him a kind, a gracious word;But spare him when thou speakest, earnestlyThis I implore: for all too easilyThrough joy and sorrow and through memoryTorn and distracted is his inmost being.A feverish madness oft doth seize on him,Yielding his spirit, beautiful and free,A prey to furies.

IPHIGENIA

               Great as is thy woe,Forget it, I conjure thee, for a while,Till I am satisfied.

PYLADES

                    The stately town,Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host,Now lies in ruins, ne'er to rise again;Yet many a hero's grave will oft recallOur sad remembrance to that barbarous shore.There lies Achilles and his noble friend.

IPHIGENIA

So are ye godlike forms reduc'd to dust!

PYLADES

Nor Palamede, nor Ajax, ere againThe daylight of their native land beheld.

IPHIGENIA

He speaks not of my father, doth not nameHim with the fallen. He may yet survive!I may behold him! still hope on, fond heart!

PYLADES

Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'dTheir bitter death-blow from a hostile hand!For terror wild, and end most tragical.Some hostile, angry deity prepar'd,Instead of triumph, for the home-returning.Do human voices never reach this shore?Far as their sound extends, they bear the fameOf deeds unparallel'd. And is the woeWhich fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighsTo thee a secret still?—And know'st thou notThat Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid,Her royal consort artfully ensnar'd,And murder'd on the day of his return?—The monarch's house thou honorest! I perceive.Thy breast with tidings vainly doth contendFraught with such monstrous and unlook'd for woe.Art thou the daughter of a friend? Art bornWithin the circuit of Mycene's walls?Conceal it not, nor call me to accountThat here the horrid crime I first announce.

IPHIGENIA

Proceed, and tell me how the deed was done.

PYLADES

The day of his return, as from the bathArose the monarch, tranquil and refresh'd,His robe demanding from his consort's hand,A tangled garment, complicate with folds,She o'er his shoulders flung and noble head;And when, as from a net, he vainly stroveTo extricate himself, the traitor, baseÆgisthus, smote him, and envelop'd thusGreat Agamemnon sought the shades below.

IPHIGENIA

And what reward receiv'd the base accomplice?

PYLADES

A queen and kingdom he possess'd already.

IPHIGENIA

Base passion prompted then the deed of shame?

PYLADES

And feelings, cherish'd long, of deep revenge.

IPHIGENIA

How had the monarch injured Clytemnestra?

PYLADES

By such a dreadful deed, that if on earthAught could exculpate murder, it were this.To Aulis he allur'd her, when the fleetWith unpropitious winds the goddess stay'd;And there, a victim at Diana's shrine,The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks,Her eldest daughter doomed, Iphigenia.And this, so rumor saith, within her heartPlanted such deep abhorrence that forthwithShe to Ægisthus hath resigned herself,And round her husband flung the web of death.

IPHIGENIA (veiling herself)

It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me.

PYLADES (alone)

The fortune of this royal house, it seems,Doth move her deeply. Whosoe'er she be,She must herself have known the monarch well;—For our good fortune, from a noble house,She hath been sold to bondage. Peace, my heart!And let us steer our course with prudent zealToward the star of hope which gleams upon us.

ACT III

SCENE I

IPHIGENIA, ORESTES

IPHIGENIA

Unhappy man, I only loose thy bondsIn token of a still severer doom.The freedom which the sanctuary imparts,Like the last life-gleam o'er the dying face,But heralds death. I cannot, dare not, sayYour doom is hopeless; for, with murderous hand,Could I inflict the fatal blow myself?And while I here am priestess of Diana,None, be he who he may, dare touch your heads.But the incensed king, should I refuseCompliance with the rites himself enjoin'd,Will choose another virgin from my trainAs my successor. Then, alas! with naught,Save ardent wishes, can I succor you.Much honored countrymen! The humblest slave,Who had but near'd our sacred household hearth,Is dearly welcome in a foreign land;How with proportion'd joy and blessing, then,Shall I receive the man who doth recallThe image of the heroes, whom I learn'dTo honor from my parents, and who cheersMy inmost heart with flatt'ring gleams of hope!

ORESTES

Does prudent forethought prompt thee to concealThy name and race? or may I hope to knowWho, like a heavenly vision, meets me thus?

IPHIGENIA

Yes, thou shalt know me. Now conclude the taleOf which thy brother only told me halfRelate their end, who coming home from Troy,On their own threshold met a doom severeAnd most unlook'd for. Young I was in soothWhen first conducted to this foreign shore,Yet well I recollect the timid glanceOf wonder and amazement which I castOn those heroic forms. When they went forthIt seem'd as though Olympus had sent downThe glorious figures of a bygone world,To frighten Ilion; and above them all,Great Agamemnon tower'd preeminent!Oh, tell me! Fell the hero in his home,Through Clytemnestra's and Ægisthus' wiles?

ORESTES

He fell!

IPHIGENIA

           Unblest Mycene! Thus the sonsOf Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sownCurse upon curse; and, as the shaken weedScatters around a thousand poison-seeds,So they assassins ceaseless generate,Their children's children ruthless to destroy.—Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale,Which horror darkly hid from me before.How did the last descendant of the race,—The gentle child, to whom the Gods assign'dThe office of avenger,—how did heEscape that day of blood? Did equal fateAround Orestes throw Avernus' netSay, was he saved? and is he still alive?And lives Electra, too?

ORESTES

They both survive.

IPHIGENIA