Iphigenia in Tauris
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ORESTES.
A wife and happy: this man hath her hand.
IPHIGENIA.
And what man's son is he, and of what land?
ORESTES.
Son of King Strophios he is called of men.
IPHIGENIA.
Whom Atreus' daughter wed?—My kinsman then.
ORESTES.
Our cousin, and my true and only friend.
IPHIGENIA.
He was not born, when I went to mine end.
ORESTES.
No, Strophios had no child for many a year.
IPHIGENIA.
I give thee hail, husband of one so dear.
ORESTES.
My more than kinsman, saviour in my need!
IPHIGENIA.
But mother … Speak: how did ye dare that deed?
ORESTES.
Our father's wrongs … But let that story be.
IPHIGENIA.
And she to slay her king! What cause had she?
ORESTES.
Forget her! … And no tale for thee it is.
IPHIGENIA.
So be it.—And thou art Lord of Argolis?
ORESTES.
Our uncle rules. I walk an exile's ways.
IPHIGENIA.
Doth he so trample on our fallen days?
ORESTES.
Nay: there be those that drive me, Shapes of Dread.
IPHIGENIA.
Ah!
That frenzy on the shore! 'Tis as they said…
ORESTES.
They saw me in mine hour. It needs must be.
IPHIGENIA.
'Twas our dead mother's Furies hounding thee!
ORESTES.
My mouth is bloody with the curb they ride.
IPHIGENIA.
What brought thee here beyond the Friendless Tide?
ORESTES.
What leads me everywhere—Apollo's word.
IPHIGENIA.
Seeking what end?—Or may the tale be heard?
ORESTES.
Nay, I can tell thee all. It needs must be
The whole tale of my days of misery.
When this sore evil that we speak not of
Lit on my hand, this way and that they drove
My body, till the God by diverse paths
Led me to Athens, that the nameless Wraths
Might bring me before judgment. For that land
A pure tribunal hath, where Ares' hand,
Red from an ancient stain, by Zeus was sent
For justice. Thither came I; and there went
God's hate before me, that at first no man
Would give me shelter. Then some few began
To pity, and set out for me aloof
One table. There I sate within their roof,
But without word they signed to me, as one
Apart, unspoken to, unlocked upon,
Lest touch of me should stain their meat and sup.
And every man in measure filled his cup
And gave me mine, and took their joy apart,
While I sat silent; for I had no heart
To upbraid the hosts that fed me. On I wrought
In my deep pain, feigning to mark them not.
And now, men say, mine evil days are made
A rite among them and the cups are laid
Apart for each. The rule abideth still.
Howbeit, when I was come to Ares' Hill
They gave me judgment. On one stone I stood,
On one she that was eldest of the brood
That hunted me so long. And many a word
Touching my mother's death was spoke and heard,
Till Phoebus rose to save me. Even lay
The votes of Death and Life; when, lo, a sway
Of Pallas' arm, and free at last I stood
From that death grapple. But the Shapes of Blood—
Some did accept the judgment, and of grace
Consent to make their house beneath that place
In darkness. Others still consented not,
But clove to me the more, like bloodhounds hot
On the dying; till to Phoebus' house once more
I crept, and cast me starving on the floor
Facing the Holy Place, and made my cry:
"Lord Phoebus, here I am come, and here will die,
Unless thou save me, as thou hast betrayed."
And, lo, from out that dark and golden shade
A voice: "Go, seek the Taurian citadel:
Seize there the carven Artemis that fell
From heaven, and stablish it on Attic soil.
So comes thy freedom." [IPHIGENIA shrinks.]
Sister, in this toil
Help us!—If once that image I may win
That day shall end my madness and my sin:
And thou, to Argos o'er the sundering foam
My many-oared barque shall bear thee home.
O sister loved and lost, O pitying face,
Help my great peril; help our father's race.
For lost am I and perished all the powers
Of Pelops, save that heavenly thing be ours!
LEADER.
Strange wrath of God hath fallen, like hot rain,
On Tantalus' house: he leadeth them through pain.
IPHIGENIA.
Long ere you came my heart hath yearned to be
In Argos, brother, and so near to thee:
But now—thy will is mine. To ease thy pain,
To lift our father's house to peace again,
And hate no more my murderers—aye,'tis good.
Perchance to clean this hand that sought thy blood,
And save my people…
But the goddess' eyes,
How dream we to deceive them? Or what wise
Escape the King, when on his sight shall fall
The blank stone of the empty pedestal? …
I needs must die … What better can I do?
And yet, one chance there is: could I but go
Together with the image: couldst thou bear
Both on the leaping seas! The risk were fair.
But how?
Nay, I must wait then and be slain:
Thou shalt walk free in Argolis again,
And all life smile on thee … Dearest, we need
Nor shrink from that. I shall by mine own deed
Have saved thee. And a man gone from the earth
Is wept for. Women are but little worth.
ORESTES.
My mother and then thou? It may not be.
This hand hath blood enough. I stand with thee
One-hearted here, be it for life or death,
And either bear thee, if God favoureth,
With me to Greece and home, or else lie here
Dead at thy side.—But mark me: if thou fear
Lest Artemis be wroth, how can that be?
Hath not her brother's self commanded me
To bear to Greece her image?—Oh, he knew
Her will! He knew that in this land we two
Must meet once more. All that so far hath past
Doth show his work. He will not at the last
Fail. We shall yet see Argos, thou and I.
IPHIGENIA.
To steal for thee the image, yet not die
Myself! 'Tis that we need. 'Tis that doth kill
My hope. Else … Oh, God knows I have the will!
ORESTES.
How if we slew your savage king?
IPHIGENIA.
Ah, no:
He sheltered me, a stranger.
ORESTES.
Even so,
If it bring life for me and thee, the deed
May well be dared.
IPHIGENIA.
I could not … Nay; indeed
I thank thee for thy daring.
ORESTES.
Canst thou hide
My body in the shrine?
IPHIGENIA.
There to abide
Till nightfall, and escape?
ORESTES.
Even so; the night
Is the safe time for robbers, as the light
For just men.
IPHIGENIA.
There be sacred watchers there
Who needs must see us.
ORESTES.
Gods above! What prayer
Can help us then?
IPHIGENIA.
I think I dimly see
One chance.
ORESTES.
What chance? Speak out thy fantasy.
IPHIGENIA'.
On thine affliction I would build my way.
ORESTES.
Women have strange devices.
IPHIGENIA.
I would say
Thou com'st from Hellas with thy mother's blood
Upon thee.
ORESTES.
Use my shame, if any good
Will follow.
IPHIGENIA.
Therefore, an offence most high
It were to slay thee to the goddess!
ORESTES.
Why?
Though I half guess.
IPHIGENIA.
Thy body is unclean.—
Oh, I will fill them with the fear of sin!
ORESTES.
What help is that for the Image?
IPHIGENIA.
I will crave
To cleanse thee in the breaking of the wave.
ORESTES.
That leaves the goddess still inside her shrine,
And'tis for her we sailed.
IPHIGENIA.
A touch of thine
Defiled her. She too must be purified.
ORESTES.
Where shall it be? Thou knowest where the tide
Sweeps up in a long channel?
IPHIGENIA.
Yes! And where
Your ship, I guess, lies moored.
ORESTES.
Whose hand will bear—
Should it be thine?—the image from her throne?
IPHIGENIA.
No hand of man may touch it save mine own.
ORESTES.
And Pylades—what part hath he herein?
IPHIGENIA.
The same as thine. He bears the self-same sin.
ORESTES.
How wilt thou work the plan—hid from the king
Or known?
IPHIGENIA.
To hide it were a hopeless thing..
Oh, I will face him, make him yield to me.
ORESTES.
Well, fifty oars lie waiting on the sea.
IPHIGENIA.
Aye, there comes thy work, till an end be made.
ORESTES.
Good. It needs only that these women aid
Our secret. Do thou speak with them, and find
Words of persuasion. Power is in the mind
Of woman to wake pity.—For the rest,
God knoweth: may it all end for the best!
IPHIGENIA.
O women, you my comrades, in your eyes
I look to read my fate. In you it lies,
That either I find peace, or be cast down
To nothing, robbed for ever of mine own—
Brother, and home, and sister pricelessly
Beloved.—Are we not women, you and I,
A broken race, to one another true,
And strong in our shared secrets? Help me through
This strait; keep hid the secret of our flight,
And share our peril! Honour shineth bright
On her whose lips are steadfast … Heaven above!
Three souls, but one in fortune, one in love,
Thou seest us go—is it to death or home?
If home, then surely, surely, there shall come
Part of our joy to thee. I swear, I swear
To aid thee also home …
[she goes to one after another, and presently kneels embracing the knees of the LEADER.]
I make my prayer
By that right hand; to thee, too, by that dear
Cheek; by thy knees; by all that is not here
Of things beloved, by mother, father, child—
Thou hadst a child!—How say ye? Have ye smiled
Or turned from me? For if ye turn away,
I and my brother are lost things this day.
LEADER.
Be of good heart, sweet mistress. Only go
To happiness. No child of man shall know
From us thy secret. Hear me, Zeus on high!
IPHIGENIA (rising).
God bless you for that word, and fill your eye
With light!—
[turning to ORESTES and PYLADES.]
But now, to work! Go thou, and thou,
In to the deeper shrine. King Thoas now
Should soon be here to question if the price
Be yet paid of the strangers' sacrifice.
[ORESTES and PYLADES go in.]
Thou Holy One, that on the shrouded sand
Of Aulis saved me from a father's hand
Blood-maddened, save me now, and save these twain.
Else shall Apollo's lips, through thy disdain,
Be no more true nor trusted in men's eyes.
Come from the friendless shore, the cruel skies,
Come back: what mak'st thou here, when o'er the sea
A clean and joyous land doth call for thee?
[she follows the men into the temple.]
fetching the rest…