Soon shall its waters in my bosom still
Life’s fitful fever; and my spirit then
Adown oblivion’s stream shall glide to you,
Ye spirits, shrouded in eternal mist.
With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose
A weary son of earth may lave his soul! —
What whisp’ring sounds pervade the dreary grove?
What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom? —
They gather round to view the stranger guest!
Who are yon troop in high communion met,
Like an assembl’d family of princes?
They mingle peacefully, of every age,
And either sex, yet are their godlike forms
Cast in a kindred mould. ’Tis they, ’tis they,
The fathers of my race! With Atreus,
In friendly converse glides Thyestes’ shade,
And children playfully around them sport.
Is there no enmity among you now?
And is revenge extinguish’d with the sun?
I then am welcome, and may hope to join
Your solemn company. My fathers, hail!
Orestes, last descendant of your race,
Salutes you. What ye sow’d, that hath he reap’d
Laden with curses he descends to you. But burdens here are lighter far to bear. Receive him, oh, receive him in your circle! Thee, Atreus, I revere, and thee, Thyestes: Here all are free from enmity and hate. — Show me my father, whom I only once In life beheld. — Art thou my father, thou, My mother leading thus familiarly? Dares Clytemnestra reach her hand to thee; Then may Orestes also draw near her, And say, behold thy son! — My ancestors, Behold your son, and bid him welcome here, Among the sons of ancient Tantalus, A kind salute on earth was murder’s watchword, And all their joys commence beyond the grave. Ye welcome me! Ye bid me join your circle! Oh, lead me to my honour’d ancestor! Where is the aged hero? that I may Behold the dear, the venerable head, Of him, who with the gods in council sat. You seem to shudder and to turn away? What may this mean? Suffers the godlike man? Alas! the mighty gods, with ruthless hate, To his heroic breast, with brazen chains, Have cruel pangs indissolubly bound.
SCENE III.
ORESTES. IPHIGENIA. PYLADES.
ORESTES.
How! are ye come already? Sister, welcome. Electra still is missing: some kind god With gentle arrow send her quickly hither. Thee, my poor friend, I must compassionate! Come with me, come to Pluto’s gloomy throne. There to salute our hosts like stranger guests.
IPHIGENIA.
Celestial pair, who from the realms above
By night and day shed down the beauteous light
To cheer mankind, but who may not illume
Departed spirits, save a mortal pair!
A brother’s and a sister’s anguish pity! For thou, Diana, lov’st thy gentle brother Beyond what earth and heaven can offer thee And dost, with quiet yearning, ever turn Thy virgin face to his eternal light. Let not my only brother, found so late, Rave in the darkness of insanity! And is thy will, when thou didst here conceal me, At length fulfill’d, — would’st thou to me through him, To him through me, thy gracious aid extend, — Oh, free him from the fetters of this curse, Lest vainly pass the precious hours of safety.
PYLADES.
Dost thou not know us, and this sacred grove, And this blest light, which shines not on the dead? Dost thou not feel thy sister and thy friend, Who hold thee living in their firm embrace? Grasp us! we are not shadows. Mark my words! Collect thyself, — each moment now is precious, And our return hangs on a slender thread, Which, as it seems, some gracious fate doth spin.
ORESTES to IPHIGENIA.
My sister, let me for the first time taste,
With open heart, pure joy within thine arms!
Ye gods, who charge the heavy clouds with dread,
And sternly gracious send the long-sought rain
With thunder and the rush of mighty winds,
A horrid deluge on the trembling earth;
Yet dissipate at length man’s dread suspense,
Exchanging timid wonder’s anxious gaze
For grateful looks and joyous songs of praise,
When in each sparkling drop which gems the leaves,
Apollo, thousand-fold, reflects his beam,
And Iris colours with a magic hand
The dusky texture of the parting clouds;
Oh, let me also in my sister’s arms,
And on the bosom of my friend, enjoy
With grateful thanks the bliss ye now bestow
My heart assures me that your curses cease.
The dread Eumenides at length retire,
The brazen gates of Tartarus I hear
Behind them closing with a thund’ring clang. A quick’ning odour from the earth ascends, Inviting me to chase, upon its plains, The joys of life and deeds of high emprise.
PYLADES.
Lose not the moments which are limited! The favouring gale, which swells our parting sail, Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy. Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
IPHIGENIA.
When the Powers on high decree
For a feeble child of earth
Dire perplexity and woe,
And his spirit doom to pass
With tumult wild from joy to grief,
And back again from grief to joy,
In fearful alternation;
They in mercy then provide,
In the precincts of his home,
Or upon the distant shore,
That to him may never fail
Ready help in hours of need,
A tranquil, faithful friend.
Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,
And every project that his mind may form!
In combat his the vigorous arm of youth,
And in the counsel his the eye of age.
His soul is tranquil; in his inner mind
He guards a sacred, undisturb’d repose,
And from its silent depths a rich supply
Of aid and counsel draws for the distress’d.
He tore me from my brother, upon whom,
With fond amaze, I gaz’d and gaz’d again;
I could not realize my happiness,
Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not
The danger’s near approach that threatens us.
To execute their project of escape,
They hasten to the sea, where in a bay Their comrades in the vessel lie conceal’d And wait a signal. Me they have supplied With artful answers, should the monarch send To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see I must consent to follow like a child. I have not learn’d deception, nor the art To gain with crafty wiles my purposes. Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve The breast like words of truth: it comforts not, But is a torment in the forger’s heart, And, like an arrow which a god directs, Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart One fear doth chase another; perhaps with rage, Again on the unconsecrated shore, The Furies’ grisly band my brother seize. Perchance they are surpris’d? Methinks I hear The tread of armed men. A messenger Is coming from the king, with hasty steps. How throbs my heart, how troubl’d is my soul Now that I see the countenance of one, Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
SCENE II.
IPHIGENIA. ARKAS.
ARKAS.
Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice, Impatiently the king and people wait.
IPHIGENIA.
I had perform’d my duty and thy will, Had not an unforeseen impediment The execution of my purpose thwarted.
ARKAS.
What is it that obstructs the king’s commands?
IPHIGENIA.
Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.
ARKAS.
Possess me with the reason, that with speed I may inform the king, who hath decreed The death of both.
IPHIGENIA.
&nbs
p; The gods have not decreed it. The elder of these men doth bear the guilt Of kindred murder; on his steps attend The dread Eumenides. They seiz’d their prey Within the inner fane, polluting thus The holy sanctuary. I hasten now, Together with my virgin-train, to bathe Diana’s image in the sea, and there With solemn rites its purity restore. Let none presume our silent march to follow!
ARKAS.
This hindrance to the monarch I’ll announce: Do not commence the rite till he permit.
IPHIGENIA.
The priestess interferes alone in this.
ARKAS.
An incident so strange the king should know.
IPHIGENIA.
Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.
ARKAS.
Oft are the great consulted out of form.
IPHIGENIA.
Do not insist on what I must refuse.
ARKAS.
A needful and a just demand refuse not.
IPHIGENIA.
I yield, if thou delay not.
ARKAS.
I with speed Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king’s reply. There is a message I would gladly bear him: ’Twould quickly banish all perplexity: Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend’s advice.
IPHIGENIA.
I willingly have done whate’er I could.
ARKAS.
E’en now ’tis not too late to change thy mind.
IPHIGENIA.
To do so is, alas, beyond our power.
ARKAS.
What thou wouldst shun, thou deem’st impossible.
IPHIGENIA.
Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.
ARKAS.
Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?
IPHIGENIA.
My fate I have committed to the gods.
ARKAS.
The gods are wont to save by human means.
IPHIGENIA.
By their appointment everything is done.
ARKAS.
Believe me, all doth now depend on thee. The irritated temper of the king Alone condemns these men to bitter death. The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice And bloody service long have been disused; Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast In foreign regions, there themselves have felt How godlike to the exil’d wanderer The friendly countenance of man appears. Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid! With ease thou canst thy sacred task fulfil: For nowhere doth benignity, which comes In human form from heaven, so quickly gain An empire o’er the heart, as where a race, Gloomy and savage, full of life and power, Without external guidance, and oppress’d With vague forebodings, bear life’s heavy load.
IPHIGENIA.
Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend According to thy will.
ARKAS.
While there is time Nor labour nor persuasion shall be spar’d.
IPHIGENIA.
Thy labour but occasions pain to me; Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.
ARKAS.
I summon pain to aid me. ’tis a friend Who counsels wisely.
IPHIGENIA.
Though it shakes my soul, It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.
ARKAS.
Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel For benefits bestow’d by one so noble?
IPHIGENIA.
Yes, when the donor, for those benefits, Instead of gratitude, demands myself.
ARKAS.
Who no affection feels doth never want Excuses. To the king I’ll now relate All that has happen’d. Oh, that in thy soul Thou wouldst revolve his noble conduct, priestess, Since thy arrival to the present day!
SCENE III.
IPHIGENIA, alone.
These words at an unseasonable hour
Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;
I am alarm’d! — For as the rushing tide
In rapid currents eddies o’er the rocks
Which lie among the sand upon the shore;
E’en so a stream of joy o’erwhelm’d my soul.
I grasp’d what had appear’d impossible.
It was as though another gentle cloud
Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,
And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep
Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,
What time her circling arm from danger snatch’d me.
My brother forcibly engross’d my heart;
I listen’d only to his friend’s advice;
My soul rush’d eagerly to rescue them,
And as the mariner with joy surveys
The less’ning breakers of a desert isle,
So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
Reminding me that those whom I forsake Are also men. Deceit doth now become Doubly detested. O my soul, be still! Beginn’st thou now to tremble and to doubt? Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth Must thou abandon? and, embark’d once more, At random drift upon tumultuous waves, A stranger to thyself and to the world?
SCENE IV.
IPHIGENIA. PYLADES.
PYLADES.
Where is she? that my words with speed may tell The joyful tidings of our near escape!
IPHIGENIA.
Oppress’d with gloomy care, I much require The certain comfort thou dost promise me.
PYLADES.
Thy brother is restor’d! The rocky paths Of this unconsecrated shore we trod In friendly converse, while behind us lay, Unmark’d by us, the consecrated grove; And ever with increasing glory shone The fire of youth around his noble brow. Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir’d; And his free heart exulted with the joy Of saving thee, his sister, and his friend.
IPHIGENIA.
The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades! And from those lips which breathe such welcome news, Be the sad note of anguish never heard!
PYLADES.
I bring yet more, — for Fortune, like a prince,
Comes not alone, but well accompanied.
Our friends and comrades we have also found.
Within a bay they had conceal’d the ship,
And mournful sat expectant. They beheld
Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais’d,
Imploring him to haste the parting hour.
Each hand impatient long’d to grasp the oar,
While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze, Perceiv’d by all, unfurl’d its wing auspicious. Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane, That I may tread the sanctuary, and seize With sacred awe the object of our hopes. I can unaided on my shoulder bear Diana’s image: how I long to feel The precious burden!
[While speaking the last words, he approaches
the Temple, without perceiving that he is not
followed by Iphigenia: at length he turns round.]
Why thus ling’ring stand. Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus’d? Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss? Inform me, hast thou to the king announc’d The prudent message we agreed upon?
IPHIGENIA.
I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide. Thy very aspect is a mute reproach. The royal messenger arriv’d, and I, According to thy counsel, fram’d my speech. He seem’d surpris’d, and urgently besought, That to the monarch I should first announce The rite unusual, and attend his will. I now await the messenger’s return.
PYLADES.
Danger again doth hover o’er our heads! O priestess, why neglect to shroud thyself Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?
IPHIGENIA.
I never have employ’d them as a veil.
PYLADES.
Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike Thyself and us. Why did I not foresee Such an emergency, and tutor thee This counsel also wisely to elude?
IPHIGENIA.
Chide only me, for mine alone the blame. Yet other answer could I not return To him, who strongly and with reason urg’d What my own heart acknowledg’d to be right.
PYLADES.
The dan
ger thickens; but let us be firm, Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves; Calmly await the messenger’s return, And then stand fast, whatever his reply: For the appointment of such sacred rites Doth to the priestess, not the king belong. Should he demand the stranger to behold Who is by madness heavily oppress’d, Evasively pretend, that in the fane, Securely guarded, thou retain’st us both. Thus you secure us time to fly with speed, Bearing the sacred treasure from this race, Unworthy its possession. Phœbus sends Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word, Ere we the first conditions have perform’d. Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv’d! Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales! Thence to Mycene, that she may revive; That from the ashes of the extinguish’d hearth, The household gods may joyously arise, And beauteous fire illumine their abode! Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew The fragrant incense. O’er that threshold thou Shalt life and blessing once again dispense, The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace With the fresh bloom of renovated life.
IPHIGENIA.
As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun, Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns, Struck by thy words’ invigorating ray. How dear the counsel of a present friend, Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one In silence droops! for, lock’d within his breast, Slowly are ripen’d purpose and resolve, Which friendship’s genial warmth had soon matur’d.
PYLADES.
Farewell! I haste to re-assure our friends,
Who anxiously await us: then with speed
I will return, and, hid within the brake,
Attend thy signal. — Wherefore, all at once, Doth anxious thought o’ercloud thy brow serene?
IPHIGENIA.
Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun, So cares and fears float darkling o’er my soul.
PYLADES.
Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form’d A close alliance, — they are constant friends.
IPHIGENIA.
It is an honest scruple, which forbids That I should cunningly deceive the king, And plunder him who was my second sire.
PYLADES.
Him thou dost fly, who would have slain thy brother.
IPHIGENIA.
To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.
PYLADES.
What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
IPHIGENIA.
Alas! it still remains ingratitude; Necessity alone can justify it.
PYLADES.
Thee, before gods and men it justifies.
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 200