# Tragedies of Euripides (Way)/Iphigeneia at Aulis

Iphigeneia at Aulis is a Greek tragedy written by Euripides. This English translation was done by Arthur S. Way. It was first published in London in 1898, in Volume III of The Tragedies of Euripides, in English verse.
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IPHIGENEIA AT AULIS.
ARGUMENT.
When the hosts of Hellas were mustered at Aulis beside the narrow sea, with purpose to sail against Troy, they were hindered from departing thence by the wrath of Artemis, who suffered no favouring wind to blow. Then, when they enquired concerning this, Kalchas the prophet proclaimed that the anger of the Goddess would not be appeased save by the sacrifice of Iphigeneia, eldest daughter of Agamemnon, captain of the host. Now she abode yet with her mother in Mycenæ; but the king wrote a lying letter to her mother, bidding her send her daughter to Aulis, there to be wedded to Achilles. All this did Odysseus devise, but Achilles knew nothing thereof. When the time drew near that she should come, Agamemnon repented him sorely. And herein is told how he sought to undo the evil, and of the maiden's coming, and how Achilles essayed to save her, and how she willingly offered herself for Hellas' sake, and of the marvel that befell at the sacrifice.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Agamemnon, captain of the host.
Old Servant of Agamemnon.
Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon, husband of Helen.
Klytemnestra, wife of Agamemnon.
Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon.
Achilles, son of the sea-goddess Thetis.
Messenger.
Orestes, infant son of Agamemnon, attendants, and guards of the chiefs.
Scene:—In the Greek Camp at Aulis, outside the tent of Agamemnon.
IPHIGENEIA AT AULIS.
Night. A lamp burning in Agamemnon's tent. Old Servant waiting without. Agamemnon appears at entrance of tent.
Agamemnon.
Ancient, before this tent come stand.
Old Servant (coming forward).
I come. What purpose hast thou in hand, Agamemnon, my king?
Agamemnon.
And wilt thou not hasten?
Old Servant.
I haste. For the need of mine eld scant sleep provideth— This eld o'er mine eyelids like vigilant sentry is placed. 5
Agamemnon.
What star in the heaven's height yonder rideth?
Old Servant.
Sirius: nigh to the Pleiads seven He is sailing yet through the midst of heaven.
Agamemnon.
Sooth, voice there is none, nor slumberous cheep Of bird, nor whisper of sea; and deep 10 Is the hush of the winds on Euripus that sleep.
Old Servant.
Yet without thy tent, Agamemnon my lord, Why dost thou pace thus feverishly? Over Aulis yonder is night's peace poured: They are hushed which along the walls keep ward. Come, pass we within.
Agamemnon.
I envy thee, Ancient, and whoso unperilled may pace ​Life's pathway unheeded and unrenowned: But little I envy the high in place.
Old Servant.
Yet the life of these is glory-crowned. 20
Agamemnon.
Ah, still with the glory is peril bound. Sweetly ambition tempteth, I trow; Yet is it neighbour to sore disquiet. For the Gods' will clasheth with thy will now, Wrecking thy life: by men that riot With divers desires, whom ye cannot content, Now is the web of thy life's work rent.
Old Servant.
Nay, in a king I love not this repining. Atreus begat thee, Agamemnon, not Only to bask in days all cloudless-shining: 30 Needs must be joy and sorrow in thy lot. Mortal thou art: though marred be thy designing, Still to fulfilment is the Gods' will brought.
Thou the star-glimmer of thy lamp hast litten, Writest a letter—in thine hand yet grasped,— Then thou erasest that which thou hast written, Sealest, and breakest bands as soon as clasped;
Castest to earth the pine-slip, ever streaming 40 Tears from thine eyes; nor lacketh anything Of madness in thy gestures aimless-seeming. What is thy grief, thy strange affliction, king? ​Come, let me share thy story: to the loyal Thou wilt reveal it, to the true and tried Whom, at thy bridal, with the dower royal Tyndareus sent to wait upon thy bride.
Agamemnon.
Three daughters Leda, child of Thestius, bare, Phœbê, and Klytemnestra mine own wife, 50 And Helen. Wooing this last, princes came In fortune foremost in all Hellas-land. With fearful threatenings breathed they murder, each Against his rivals, if he won her not. Then sore perplexed was Tyndareus her sire, 55 How, giving or refusing, he should 'scape Shipwreck: and this thing came into his mind, That each to each the suitors should make oath, And clasp right hands, and with burnt sacrifice Should pour drink-offerings, and swear to this:— 60 Whose wife soever Tyndareus' child should be, Him to defend: if any from her home Stole her and fled, and thrust her lord aside, To march against him, and to raze his town, Hellene or alien, with their mailed array. 65 So when they had pledged them thus, and cunningly Old Tyndareus had by craft outwitted them, He let his daughter midst the suitors choose Him unto whom Love's sweet winds wafted her. She chose—O had she never chosen him!— 70 Menelaus. Then from Phrygia he who judged The Goddesses, as Argive legend tells, ​To Sparta came, his vesture flower-bestarred Gleaming with gold, barbaric bravery, Loved Helen, and was loved, stole her and fled 75 To Ida's steadings, when from home afar Menelaus was. Through Hellas frenzy-stung He sped, invoking Tyndareus' ancient oath, Claiming of all their bond to help the wronged. Thereat up sprang the Hellenes spear in hand, 80 Donned mail of fight, and to this narrow gorge Of Aulis came, with galleys and with shields, And many a horse and chariots many arrayed. And me for Menelaus' sake they chose For chief, his brother. Would some other man 85 Might but have won the honour in my stead! Now when the gathered host together came, At Aulis did we tarry weather-bound. Then the seer Kalchas bade in our despair Slay Iphigeneia, her whom I begat, 90 To Artemis who dwelleth in this land; So should we voyage, and so Phrygia smite; But if we slew her not, it should not be. I, when I heard this, bade Talthybius Dismiss the host with proclamation loud, 95 Since I would never brook to slay my child. Whereat my brother, pleading manifold pleas, To the horror thrust me. In a tablet's folds I wrote, and bade therein my wife to send Her daughter, as to be Achilles' bride, 100 Extolled therein the hero's high repute, Said, with Achaia's host he would not sail Except a bride of our house came to Phthia. Yea, this I counted should persuade my wife, This framing of feigned spousals for the maid. 105 ​This none Achaian knoweth with me, save Kalchas, Odysseus, Menelaus. Now That wrong I here revoke, and write the truth Within this scroll, which in the gloom of night Thou saw'st me, ancient, open and reseal. 110 Up, go, this letter unto Argos bear; And what the tablet hideth in its folds, All things here written, will I tell to thee, For loyal to my wife and house art thou.
Old Servant.
Speak, and declare, that the tale heard Ring true beside the written word.
Agamemnon.
(Reads).
"This add I to my letter writ before:— Daughter of Leda, do thou send Thy daughter not unto the waveless shore Of Aulis, where the bend 120
Of that sea-pinion of Eubœa lies Gulf-shapen. Ere we celebrate Our daughter's marriage-tide solemnities, A season must we wait."
Old Servant.
Yet, if Achilles lose his plighted spouse, Will not his anger's tempest swell Against thee and thy wife? Sure, perilous Is this!—thy meaning tell.
Agamemnon.
His name, no more, Achilles lends,—hath known Nought of a bride, nor aught we planned, 130 ​Nor how to him I have, in word alone, Given my daughter's hand.
Old Servant.
Fearfully, Agamemnon, was this done, That thou shouldst bring thy child, O King, Hither, named bride unto the Goddess' son, Yet a burnt-offering!
Agamemnon.
Woe! I was all distraught: I am reeling ruin-ward! Speed thy foot, ancient, slacking nought For eld.
Old Servant.
I speed, my lord. 140
Agamemnon.
Sit thee not down where the forest-founts leap, Neither be bound by the spell of sleep.
Old Servant.
Breathe not such doubt abhorred!
Agamemnon.
When thou comest where ways part, keenly then Watch, lest a chariot escape thy ken, Whose rolling wheels peradventure may bear My daughter hitherward, even to where Be the ships of the Danaan men. For, if thou light on her escort-train, ​Thou turn them aback, grasp, shake the rein: 150 To the halls Cyclopian speed them again.
Old Servant.
Yea, this will I do.
Agamemnon.
From the gates forth go—
Old Servant.
Yet how shall thy wife and thy daughter know My faith herein, that the thing is so?
Agamemnon.
Keep thou this seal, whose impress lies On the letter thou bearest. Away!—the skies Already are grey, and they kindle afar With the dawn's first flush, and the Sun-god's car. Now help thou my strait! [Exit Old Servant. No man to the end is fortunate, 160 Happy is none: For a lot unvexed never man yet won. [Exit.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
(Str. 1) I have come to the Aulian sea-gulf's verge, To her gleaming sands, I have voyaged Euripus' rushing surge From the city that stands ​Queen of the Sea-gate, Chalkis mine, On whose bosom-fold Arethusa gleameth, the fountain divine,— Have come to behold 170 The Achaian array, and the heroes' oars That the pine-keels speed Of a thousand galleys to Troyland's shores, Whom the two kings lead,— Who with prince Menelaus the golden-haired, As our own lords say, And with King Agamemnon the high-born, fared On the vengeance-way, On the quest of her whom the herdman drew From beside the river 180 Of whispering reeds, his sin-wage due,— Aphroditê the giver,— Promised, when into the fountain down Spray-veiled she descended, When with Hera and Pallas for beauty's crown The Cyprian contended. (Ant. 1) And through Artemis' grove of sacrifice Hasting I came, While swift in my cheeks did the crimson rise Of my maiden shame: For to look on the shields, on the tents agleam 190 With arms, was I fain, And on thronging team upon chariot team. There marked I twain, The Oïlid Aias and Telamon's child, Salamis' pride. ​By the shifting maze of the draughts beguiled Sat side by side Protesilaus and he that was sprung Of Poseidon's seed, Palamedes: and there, by the strong arm flung Of Diomede, 200 Did the discus leap, and he joyed therein; And hard beside him Was Meriones of the War-god's kin— Men wondering eyed him. And Laertes' son from the isle-hills far Through the sea-haze gleaming; And Nireus, of all that host of war The goodliest-seeming.
(Mesode)
There was Achilles, whose feet are as winds for the storm-rush unreined: Him I beheld who of Thetis was born, who of Cheiron was trained; 210 Clad in his armour he raced, over sand, over shingle he strained,
Matching in contest of swiftness his feet with a chariot of four, Rounding the sweep of the course for the victory:—rang evermore Shouts from Pherêtid Eumêlus, and aye with the goad that he bore
Smote he his horses most goodly—I saw them, saw gold-glitter deck 220 Richly their bits; and the midmost, the car-yoke who bore on their neck, ​Dappled were they, with a hair here and there like a snow-smitten fleck.
They that in traces without round the perilous turning-post swept, Bays were they, spotted their fetlocks: Peleides beside them on-leapt: Sheathed in his harness, unflagging by car-rail and axle he kept. 230
(Str. 2) And I came where the host of the war-ships lies,— A marvel past telling,— To fill with the vision my maiden eyes And my heart joy-swelling. And there, on the rightward wing arrayed, Was Phlia's Myrmidon battle-aid, Fifty galleys swift for the war, With the ranks of oars by their bulwarks swayed, And high on their sterns in effigies golden The Nereid Goddesses gleamed afar, 240 The sign by Achilles' host upholden. (Ant. 2) Hard by, keels equal by tale unto these Did the Argives gather; With Talaüs' fosterling passed they the seas, Mekisteus his father,— And with Sthenelus, Kapaneus' son, at his side. And there did the galleys of Attica ride With the scion of Theseus, the next to the left,— Ships threescore,—and the peerless pride Of their blazonry was a winged car, bearing 250 Pallas, with horses of hooves uncleft, A blessed sign unto folk sea-faring.
(Str. 3) Bœotia's barks sea-plashing Fifty there lay: I marked their ensigns flashing. Kadmus had they Whose Golden Dragon shone On each stern's garnison; And Leïtus Earth's son Led their array. 260 Galleys from Phocis came; In Locrian barks, the same By tale, went Thronium's fame 'Neath Aias' sway. (Ant. 3) Atreides' Titan-palace, Mycenæ, sent Thronged decks of five-score galleys: Adrastus went As friend with friend, to take Her, who the home-bonds brake 270 For alien gallant's sake, For chastisement. There, ships of Pylos' king, Gerenian Nestor, bring The weird bull-blazoning That Alpheus lent.
(Epode) Gouneus, King of Ainian men, Marshalled galleys two and ten: Hard thereby the bulwarks tower ​Of the lords of Elis' power, 280 Whom the host Epeians name: Eurytus to lead them came; Led the Taphians argent-oared Therewithal, which owned for lord Phyleus' scion Meges, who From the Echinad Isles, whereto No man sails, his war-host drew.
Aias, Salamis' fosterling, Held in touch his rightward wing With their left who nearest lay: 290 Helm-obeying keels were they Twelve, which, marshalled uttermost, Closed the line that fringed the coast, As I heard, and now might mark. Whoso with barbaric bark Meets him, from the grapple stern Never home shall he return.
Lo, the goodly sea-array That mine eyes have seen to-day! Erst the great war-muster's story 300 Through mine home rang: now its glory In mine heart shall live for aye.
Enter Old Servant, grasping at a letter which Menelaus has snatched from him.
Old Servant.
Menelaus, this is outrage!—shame on thee!
Menelaus.
Stand back! Thou art all too loyal to thy lord.
Old Servant.
A proud reproach thou castest upon me. 305
Menelaus.
If thou o'erstep thy duty, thou shalt rue.
Old Servant.
'Tis not for thee to unseal the scroll I bare.
Menelaus.
Nor yet for thee to bring to all Greeks bane.
Old Servant.
With others argue that; but this restore.
Menelaus.
I will not yield it up!
Old Servant.
Nor I let go! 310
Menelaus.
Soon then my staff shall dash thine head with blood.
Old Servant.
Glorious it were in my lord's cause to die.
Menelaus.
Unhand!—a slave, thou art overfull of words.
Old Servant.
Ho, master! outrage!—lo, this man hath snatched ​By violence thy letter from mine hand, 315 Agamemnon, nor will have regard to right!
Enter Agamemnon.
Agamemnon.
Ha! What this tumult at my doors, and this unseemly brawl upstirred?
Menelaus.
Mine the right to speak is—mine before this fellow to be heard.
Agamemnon.
Wherefore dost thou strive with him, Menelaus, and by violence hale?
[Men. releases O.S., who exit.
Menelaus.
Look me in the face, that I may make beginning of the tale. 320
Agamemnon.
Shall I dread to lift mine eyelids, who of dreadless Atreus came?
Menelaus.
Seëst thou this tablet—this, the bearer of a tale of shame?
Agamemnon.
I behold it,—and from thine hand first do thou surrender it.
Menelaus.
Never, ere I show to all the Danaans that therein is writ!
Agamemnon.
How?—and didst thou break my seal, and know'st thou what thou shouldest not? 325
Menelaus.
Yea, unto thy sorrow brake it, that I know thy secret plot.
Agamemnon.
Ay?—and where didst seize him?—Gods, what front of impudence is here!
Menelaus.
Watching if thy child from Argos to the host were drawing near.
Agamemnon.
What dost thou to spy upon me? Is not this done shamelessly?
Menelaus.
Mine own pleasure was my warrant. I am not thy bondman—I. 330
Agamemnon.
Is not this outrageous? Wouldst thou limit in mine house my power?
Menelaus.
Yea; thy thoughts are shifty, changing ever with the changing hour.
Agamemnon.
Subtly hast thou glozed the evil! Hateful is the artful tongue!
Menelaus.
But the treacherous heart, to friends disloyal, is a hoard of wrong. I would question thee, and do not thou with spirit anger-jarred 335 Fence aside from thee the truth, nor I will press thee over-hard. Hast forgotten how thou fain wouldst lead the Greeks to Ilium's shore, Feignedst not to wish the thing, but in thine heart didst crave it sore, How to all men wast thou lowly, clasping hands of amity, Keeping open doors for whoso of the folk would seek to thee, 340 Bidding all accost thee freely, challenging the modest heart, Seeking by thy shifts to buy advancement as in open mart? Ah, but when thy power was won, thou changedst all thy mien: no more Wast thou unto friends of days gone by a friend as theretofore,— Inaccessible, and seldom found at home. The noble-souled 345 Ought not, raised to high estate, to turn him from the paths of old, Nay, but more than ever loyal then unto his friends should be, When his power to help is more than ever, through prosperity. First therein, where first I found thee base, I visit thee with blame. ​Then, when thou and all the host of Hellas unto Aulis came, 350 Nought wast thou, at Heaven's visitation utterly dismayed, When the wafting breezes failed thee, when the sons of Danaus bade Send the ships disbanded thence, nor toil at Aulis all in vain. O thy rueful face, thy wildered eye, lest thou on Priam's plain, Thou, the captain of a thousand galleys, ne'er shouldst pour thy spears! 355 "What shall I do?" didst thou ask me; "What device, and whence, appears, That of lordship I be not bereft, nor lose my fair renown?" Then, when Kalchas on the altar bade thee lay thy child's life down Unto Artemis,—the Danaïds so should sail,—with gladness filled Blithely promisedst to slay thy daughter; yea, didst send free-willed— 360 Not constrained, thou canst not say it—to thy queen, that hitherward She should send thy child, as who should take Achilles for her lord:— Lo, the selfsame sky o'erhead which heard thee then record thy vow!— Now thou turn'st about, art found recasting that thy message now, Saying thou wilt ne'er be slayer of thy child! So is it still— 365 ​Many and many a man is like thee, toileth with unflagging will Up the heights of power; thereafter from its summit falls with shame, Some through blindness of the people, some be all themselves to blame, They whose nerveless hands can ward the city not that they have won. But, for me, 'tis hapless Hellas most of all that I bemoan: 370 Fain she is of high achievement, yet shall caitiff aliens make Her a mock, who 'scape her hands for thine and for thy daughter's sake. Ne'er may I for kinship's cause exalt a man to rule the land, Nor to lead a host! He needeth wisdom who would men command; For 'tis his to helm a nation who hath wit to understand. 375
Chorus.
Fearful 'twixt brethren words of high disdain And conflict are, when into strife they fall.
Agamemnon.
Now would I in turn upbraid thee, briefly, not exalting high Shameless brows of haughty scorning, nay, but ever soberly, As becomes a brother; for the noble hold by chivalry. 380 ​Answer, why this breath tempestuous, why these bloodshot eyes of strife? Who doth wrong thee? What dost crave? Dost yearn to win a virtuous wife? This I cannot find thee: her thou gainedst, vilely ruledst thou. What, must I, who have not erred, for thy transgression suffer now? Or doth mine advancement gall thee?—nay, but one desire thou hast, 385 In thine arms to clasp a lovely woman!—reason dost thou cast, Yea, and honour, to the winds!—the pleasures of the vile are base. I, who erst took evil counsel, if I now give wisdom place, Am I mad? Nay, rather thou, who, having lost an evil spouse, Wouldst re-win her, though thy loss be gain, God's kindness to thy house. 390 Those infatuate marriage-craving suitors swore an oath indeed Unto Tyndareus; yet these did Hope, I trow, the Goddess, lead On, and brought it more to pass than thou and all thy strong control. Lead them thou—O these are ready in the folly of their soul! God is not an undiscerning judge; his eyes are keen to try Oaths exacted by constraint, and troth-plight held unrighteously. 395 ​Never I will slay my children, that in justice's despite Thine avenging on a wife most wanton so may speed aright, While I waste through nights of weeping, pine through days of misery For my lawless, godless dealing with the children born to me! Lo, mine answer, brief and clear, and easy to be understood. 400 If thou turn from wisdom, yet shall mine house follow after good.
Chorus.
This controverteth that thou saidst before; Yet good is thy resolve, to spare thy child.
Menelaus.
Alas for wretched me! Friends have I none!
Agamemnon.
Yea—if thou seek not to destroy thy friends. 405
Menelaus.
How wilt thou prove thyself our father's son?
Agamemnon.
By brotherhood in wisdom, not in folly.
Menelaus.
Friends ought to feel friends' sorrow as their own.
Agamemnon.
By kindness, not unkindness, challenge me.
Menelaus.
Wilt thou not then with Greece this travail share? 410
Agamemnon.
Hellas, like thee, hath God's stroke driven mad.
Menelaus.
Vaunt then thy sceptre, traitor to thy brother! I will betake me unto other means And other friends. (Enter Messenger in haste.)
Messenger.
O King of Hellas' host, Agamemnon, lo, thy child I bring to thee, 415 Named of thee Iphigeneia in thine halls. Her mother Klytemnestra comes with her, Orestes, too, the babe, to glad thine eyes Who from thine home long time hast sojourned far. But, after weary journeying, at a spring 420 Fair-flowing now the women bathe their feet, They and their steeds—for midst the meadow-grass We turned them loose, that they might browse therein. I, to prepare thee, their forerunner come. For the host knoweth it, so swiftly spread 425 The rumour of the coming of thy child. And to the sight runs all the multitude To see thy child; for folk in high estate Famed and observed of all observers are. "A bridal is it?"—they ask—"or what is toward? 430 Or hath the King, of yearning for his child, Sent for his daughter?" Others might'st thou hear— ​"To Artemis, to Aulis' Queen, they pay The maiden's spousal-rites! The bridegroom who?" Up then, prepare the maunds for sacrifice; 435 Garland your heads:—thou too, prince Menelaus, Strike up the bridal hymn, and through the tents Let the flute ring, with sound of dancing feet; For gladsome dawns this day upon the maid.
Agamemnon.
'Tis well—I thank thee: pass thou now within. 440 Well shall the rest speed as Fate marcheth on. [Exit Messenger. Woe's me! What can I say, or where begin? Into what bonds of doom have I been cast! Me Fortune hath outwitted: she hath proved Too cunning far for all my stratagems! 445 Lo now, what vantage cleaves to lowly birth! For such may lightly ease their hearts with tears, And tell out all their grief. The same pangs touch The high-born; but our life is tyrannized By dignity: we are the people's thralls. 450 So is it with me, for I shame to weep, And yet shame not to weep, wretch that I am, Who am fallen into deepest misery! Lo now, what shall I say unto my wife, Or how receive her?—with what countenance meet? 455 She hath undone me, coming midst mine ills Unbidden! Yet 'twas reason she should come With her own child, to render to the bride Love's service—where I shall be villain found! ​And the unhappy maid—why name her maid? 460 Hades meseems shall take her soon for bride. O me, the pity of it! I hear her pray— "Ah father, wilt thou slay me! Now such bridal
Mayst thou too find, and all whom thou dost love!" Orestes at her side shall wail the grief 465 Unmeaning, deep with meaning, of the babe. Alas, how Priam's son hath ruined me, Paris, whose sin with Helen wrought all this!
Chorus.
I also—far as alien woman may Mourn for the griefs of princes—pity thee. 470
Menelaus.
Brother, vouchsafe to me to grasp thine hand.
Agamemnon.
I give it. Thine the triumph, mine the pang.
Menelaus.
I swear by Pelops, of my sire and thine Named father, and by Atreus our own sire, That from mine heart's core I will speak to thee, 475 To serve no end, but all mine inmost thought. I, seeing how thine eyes are streaming tears, Pity thee, and the answering tear I shed; And from the words erst uttered I draw back, Thy foe no more: lo, in thy place I stand. 480 And I exhort thee, neither slay thy child, Nor choose my good for thine. Unjust it were That thou shouldst groan, and all my cup be sweet, ​That thy seed die, and mine behold the light. For, what would I? Can I not find a bride 485 Peerless elsewhere, if I for marriage yearn? How, should I lose—whom least I ought to lose— A brother, win a Helen, bad for good? Mad was I and raw-witted, till I viewed Things near, and saw what slaying children means. 490 Yea also, pity for the hapless maid Doomed to be slaughtered for my bridal's sake, Stole o'er me, on our kinship when I thought. For what with Helen hath thy child to do? From Aulis let the host disbanded go! 495 But thou forbear to drown thine eyes with tears, O brother mine, nor challenge me to weep. If thou hast part in oracles touching her, No part be mine!—my share I yield to thee. "Swift change is here," thou'lt say, "from those grim words!" 500 Nay, but most meet: for love of him who sprang From the same womb, I change. No knave's wont this, Ever to cleave unto the better part.
Chorus.
Right noble speech, and worthy Tantalus, Zeus' son! Thou shamest not thine ancestors. 505
Agamemnon.
Thanks, Menelaus, that beyond all hope Thou hast spoken rightly, worthily of thee. Strife betwixt brethren for a woman's sake May rise, or of ambition; but I loathe ​Kinship that bringeth bitterness to both. 510 Nay, but we are tangled in the net of fate! We needs must work the murder of my child.
Menelaus.
How?—who shall force thee to destroy thine own?
Agamemnon.
The whole array of the Achaian host.
Menelaus.
Never, if thou to Argos send her back. 515
Agamemnon.
This might I secretly—that cannot I.
Menelaus.
What? Fear not thou the rabble overmuch.
Agamemnon.
Kalchas will tell the host the oracles.
Menelaus.
Not if he first have died—this were not hard.
Agamemnon.
The whole seer-tribe is one ambitious curse! 520
Menelaus.
Abominable and useless,—while alive.
Agamemnon.
The fear that steals o'er me—is this not thine?
Menelaus.
If thou tell not, how should I understand?
Agamemnon.
All this the seed of Sisyphus doth know.
Menelaus.
Odysseus cannot injure thee and me. 525
Agamemnon.
He is aye shifty—a mob-partizan.
Menelaus.
Thrall to ambition is he—perilous bane.
Agamemnon.
Will he not rise, think'st thou, in the Argive midst And tell the oracles that Kalchas spake, And how I promised Artemis her victim, 530 And now play false? And, rousing so the host, Shall bid them slay thee, me, and sacrifice The maiden? Though to Argos I escape, Yet will they come, destroy it, to the ground Raze it with all its walls Cyclopian. 535 Even this is mine affliction, woe is me! How by the Gods I am whelmed amidst despair! Take heed for one thing, brother, through the host Passing, that Klytemnestra hear this not, ​Till I to Hades shall have sealed my child, 540 That mine affliction be with fewest tears. And, stranger damsels, hold your peace hereof.
[Exit Menelaus.
Chorus.
(Str.) O well for them for whom the Queen Of Love shall temper passion's fire, And bring fruition of desire With gentle pace and sober mien,
Whose souls are seas at rest, are spared The frenzy-thrill, the fever-pain, The spells that charm the arrows twain, The shafts of Love the golden-haired,
Whereof one flieth tipt with bliss, 550 And one with ruin of unrest:— O Queen of Beauty, from my breast, My bridal bower, avert thou this!
Let love's sweet spells in measure meet Rest on me; pure desires be mine: May Aphroditê's dayspring shine On me—avaunt her midnoon heat! (Ant.) The hearts of men be diverse-wrought, Diverse their lives: but, ever clear Through all, true goodness shall appear; 560 And each high lesson throughly taught
Lends wings to soar to virtue's heaven: For in self-reverence wisdom is; And to discern the right—to this An all-transforming charm is given. ​Fadeless renown is shed thereby On life by Fame. Ah, glorious The quest of virtue is!—for us The cloistered virtue, chastity:
But, for the man—his inborn grace 570
Of law and order maketh great, By service of her sons, the state: His virtue works by thousand ways. (Epode.) Thou earnest, Paris, back to where, Mid Ida's heifers snowy fair, A neatherd, thou didst pipe such strain That old Olympus' spirit there Awoke again. Full-uddered kine in dreamy peace Browsed, when the summons came to thee To judge that Goddess-rivalry 580 Whose issue sped thee unto Greece, Before the ivory palaces To stand, to see in Helen's eyne That burned on thine, the lovelight shine, To thrill with Eros' ecstasies. For which cause strife is leading all Hellas, with ships, with spears, to fall Upon Troy's tower-coronal.
Lo, lo, the great ones of the earth, How blest they be! 590 Iphigeneia, proud in birth From princes, see; ​See Klytemnestra, her who came Of Tyndareus—O stately name Of mighty sires! O crowned with fame Their destiny! They that be lifted high in wealth, in might, Are even as Gods in meaner mortals' sight.
Enter, riding in a chariot, Klytemnestra and Iphigeneia, with attendants.
Stand we, Chalkis' daughters, near, Stretching hands of kindly aid: So unstumbling to the ground 600 Down the Queen shall step, nor fear Shall the princess know, upstayed, Agamemnon's child renowned. Strangers we, no tumult here Make we: entrance undismayed Be of Argos' strangers found.
Klytemnestra.
An omen of good fortune count I this, Thy kindness and fair greeting of thy speech. Good hope have I that I am come to lead The bride to happy bridal. From the car 610 Take ye the dower that for the maid I bring, And bear to the pavilion with good heed. And thou, my daughter, from the horse-wain step, Daintily setting down thy tender feet; And ye receive her, damsels, in your arms, 615 And from the chariot help her safely forth. And let one lend to me a propping hand That I may leave the wain-seat gracefully. Some, pray you, stand before the horses' yoke, ​For timorous is the horse's restive eye. 620 And this child take ye, Agamemnon's boy, Orestes, who is yet a wordless babe. How?—lulled to sleep, child, by the swaying car? Wake for thy sister's bridal smilingly; For thine heroic strain shall get for kin 625 A hero, even the Nereid's godlike child. Hither, my daughter, seat thee at my side: Hard by thy mother, Iphigeneia, take Thy place, and to these strangers show my bliss. Lo, thy beloved father!—welcome him. 630
Enter Agamemnon.
Iphigeneia (running to his arms).
O mother, I outrun thee—be not wroth— And heart to heart I clasp my father close.
Klytemnestra.
O most of me revered, Agamemnon King, We come, obedient unto thy behest.
Iphigeneia.
Fain am I, father, on thy breast to fall, 635 After so long! Though others I outrun,— For O, I yearn for thy face!—be not wroth.
Klytemnestra.
Child, this thou mayst: yea, ever, most of all The children I have borne, thou lov'st thy sire.
Iphigeneia.
Father, so long it was—so glad am I! 640
Agamemnon.
And glad am I: thy words suffice for twain.
Iphigeneia.
Hail! Well hast thou done, father, bringing me.
Agamemnon (starts).
Well?—child, I know not how to answer this.
Iphigeneia.
Ha! So glad to see me—yet what troubled look!
Agamemnon.
On kings and captains weigheth many a care. 645
Iphigeneia.
This hour be mine—this one! Yield not to care!
Agamemnon.
Yea, I am all thine now: my thoughts stray not.
Iphigeneia.
Unknit thy brow then: let love melt thine eye.
Agamemnon.
Lo, child, I joy—as I joy, seeing thee.
Iphigeneia.
And yet—and yet—thine eyes are welling tears! 650
Agamemnon.
Yea, for the absence yet to come is long.
Iphigeneia.
I know not, know not, dear my sire, thy meaning.
Agamemnon.
Thy wise discernment stirs my grief the more.
Iphigeneia.
So I may please thee, folly will I talk.
Agamemnon.
Ah me! (aside) This silence breaks my heart! (aloud) I thank thee. 655
Iphigeneia.
Stay, father, with thy children stay at home!
Agamemnon.
I would. My wish is barred: there lies my grief.
Iphigeneia.
Perish their wars, and Menelaus' wrongs!
Agamemnon.
My ruin shall be others' ruin first.
Iphigeneia.
Long absence thine hath been in Aulis' gulf. 660
Agamemnon.
Still hindered is the army's speeding forth.
Iphigeneia.
Where dwell the Phrygians, father, as men say?
Agamemnon.
Where—O that Priamid Paris ne'er had dwelt!
Iphigeneia.
Far dost thou voyage, father, leaving me.
Agamemnon.
Thou art in like case with thy father, child. 665
Iphigeneia.
(Sighs) Would it were meet that I might voyage with thee!
Agamemnon.
Thou too must voyage where thou shalt think on me.
Iphigeneia.
Shall I sail with my mother, or alone?
Agamemnon.
Alone, from mother severed and from sire.
Iphigeneia.
How, hast thou found me, father, a new home? 670
Agamemnon.
Enough! It fits not maidens know such things.
Iphigeneia.
Speed back from Phrygia, father, victor there.
Agamemnon.
A sacrifice must I first offer here.
Iphigeneia.
Yea, thou must reverence heaven with holy rites.
Agamemnon.
This thou shalt see—shalt by the laver stand. 675
Iphigeneia.
Father, shall I lead dances round the altar?
Agamemnon.
O happier thou in ignorance than I! Pass thou within where none but maids shall see. One sad kiss first, one clasp of thy right hand, Ere thy long sojourn from thy father far. 680 O bosom, O ye cheeks, O golden hair! On you what burden Phrygia's Town hath laid ​And Helen! But no more—the sudden flood Bursts o'er me from mine eyes as I touch thee! Pass into the pavilion. (Exit Iph.) Pardon me, 685 O Leda's child, if well-nigh breaks my heart To yield to Achilles' hand my daughter, mine. Such partings make for bliss, but none the less They wring the heart, when fathers to strange homes Yield children for whose sake they have laboured long. 690
Klytemnestra.
I am not so dull; be sure that I no less Shall feel this pang—wherefore I chide thee not— When I with marriage-hymns lead forth the maid. But custom joined with time shall deaden pain. His name, to whom thou hast betrothed my child, 695 I know; his land, his lineage, would I learn.
Agamemnon.
The Nymph Aegina was Asôpus' child:—
Klytemnestra.
And did a mortal wed her, or a God?
Agamemnon.
Zeus. Aiakus he begat, Oenônê's lord.
Klytemnestra.
Which son of Aiakus possessed his house? 700
Agamemnon.
Peleus; and Peleus wedded Nereus' child.
Klytemnestra.
By the God granted, or in heaven's despite?
Agamemnon.
'Twas Zeus betrothed her, and her father gave.
Klytemnestra.
Where did he wed her?—'neath the heaving sea?
Agamemnon.
Where Cheiron dwells at Pelion's sacred foot. 705
Klytemnestra.
Where tribes of Centaurs have their haunt, men say?
Agamemnon.
Yea, there the Gods held Peleus' marriage-feast.
Klytemnestra.
Did Thetis, or his father, rear Achilles?
Agamemnon.
Cheiron, that he might learn not vile men's ways.
Klytemnestra.
Ay so! Wise was the teacher, wiser yet the sire. 710
Agamemnon.
Such hero is to be thy daughter's lord.
Klytemnestra.
None better. In what Greek town is his home?
Agamemnon.
On Phthia's marches, by Apidanus.
Klytemnestra.
Thither wilt thou lead hence thy child and mine?
Agamemnon.
Nay, his part this who taketh her to wife. 715
Klytemnestra.
Blessings on them! On what day shall they wed?
Agamemnon.
When comes full-orbed the moon with blessing crowned.
Klytemnestra.
Hast slain the Goddess' victim for our child?
Agamemnon.
So purpose I: even this we have in hand.
Klytemnestra.
Thereafter wilt thou hold the marriage-feast? 720
Agamemnon.
When to the Gods I have done meet sacrifice.
Klytemnestra.
And I, where shall I make the women's feast?
Agamemnon.
Here, by the Argive galleys' stately sterns.
Klytemnestra.
Here, quotha!—yet it must be. Fair befall!
Agamemnon.
Know'st thy part, lady, then? My bidding do. 725
Klytemnestra.
What thing? Obedience is my wont to thee.
Agamemnon.
Here, where the bridegroom is, will I myself—
Klytemnestra.
What mother's office in mine absence do?
Agamemnon.
With help of Danaans give thy child away.
Klytemnestra.
But I—where must I tarry all this while? 730
Agamemnon.
To Argos go: for thy young daughters care.
Klytemnestra.
And leave my child?—and who shall raise the torch?
Agamemnon.
I will provide such bridal torch as fits.
Klytemnestra.
All custom outraged!—nought is that to thee!
Agamemnon.
To mingle with armed hosts beseems not thee,— 735
Klytemnestra.
Beseems that mother give away her child!
Agamemnon.
Nor that those maids at home be left alone.
Klytemnestra.
They in safe maiden-bowers be warded well.
Agamemnon.
Nay, hear me—
Klytemnestra.
No! by the Argives' Goddess-queen! Go, order things without: within doors I 740 Will order what is fitting for a bride. [Exit.
Agamemnon.
Ah me, vain mine essay! My hope is foiled, Who out of sight was fain to send my wife. With subtle schemes against my best-beloved I weave plots, yet am baffled everywhere. 745 But none the less with Kalchas will I go, ​The priest, the Goddess' pleasure to enquire— For me ill doom, for Hellas travail sore. The wise man in his house should keep a wife Helpful and good—or never take a bride. 750
[Exit.
Chorus.
(Str.) Unto Simoïs, unto the silver-swirling Eddies, shall come the Hellene host, With galleys, with battle-gear onward hurling To the plain of Phœbus, the Troyland coast, Where tosseth Kassandra her tresses golden With their garlands of green-leaved bay enfolden, As they tell, when by mighty compulsion holden 760 Her soul is on storm-winds of prophecy tost. (Ant.) On the heights of their towers shall the Trojans, enringing The ramparts of Troy, in their harness stand, When over the waters the War-god, bringing The stately galleys with oars, to the strand Draweth near, where the runnels of Simoïs are sliding, To hale her, in Priam's halls who is hiding— Sister of Zeus' sons heaven-abiding— 770 With buckler and spear unto Hellas-land. (Epode.) And the War-fiend shall girdle with slaughter Pergamus' towers of stone, And the captive's head back bend That the throat-shearing blade may descend, When low in the dust he hath brought her, Troy, from her height overthrown. ​He shall make for her maids a lamenting, And the queen of Priam shall moan, 780 And the daughter of Zeus shall know In that day, and the flood shall flow Of Helen's tears of repenting, Who hath left her husband lone.
Over me, over mine, may there loom— No, not in the third generation— Never such shadow of doom As shall haunt each gold-decked bride Of the Lydian, the Phrygian, nation, As, communing their looms beside, They shall murmur fearful-eyed, "Ah, who on the braids of my shining hair 790 Clenching his grip till my tears down shower, Me from my perishing country shall tear As one plucketh a flower?— For thy sake, child of the swan arch-necked, If credence-worthy the story be That Leda bare to a winged bird thee, When Zeus with its plumes had his changed form decked, Or whether in scrolls of minstrelsy Such tales unto mortals hath Fable brought, Told out of season, and all for nought." 800
Enter Achilles.
Achilles.
Where is Achaia's battle-chief hereby? What henchman will bear word that Peleus' son, Achilles, at his gates is seeking him? This tarrying here falls not alike on all; ​For some there are of us who, yet unwed, 805 Have left their dwellings wardenless, and here Sit idle on the shore, some that have wives And children: such strange longing for this war Hath upon Hellas fallen by heaven's will. Mine own, my righteous grievance, must I speak,— 810 Let whoso will beside, his own cause plead:— Pharsalia's land and Peleus have I left, And through these light airs of Euripus wait, Checking my Myrmidons: yet urgent aye They cry, "Why dally, Achilles,? How long time 815 Yet must the Troyward-bound array wait on? Act, if thou canst; else lead thy war-host home, Waiting no more on Atreus' son's delays.
Enter Klytemnestra.
Klytemnestra.
Child of the Nereïd Goddess, from within Thy voice I heard, and come without the tent. 815
Achilles.
Great Queen of Shamefastness, what lady here Behold I crowned with peerless loveliness?
Klytemnestra.
No marvel thou shouldst know me not, unseen Ere this:—thy shrinking modesty I praise.
Achilles.
Who art thou? Why cam'st thou to Achaia's host— 825 A woman unto men with bucklers fenced?
Klytemnestra.
I am Leda's daughter; Klytemnestra named Am I: King Agamemnon is my lord.
Achilles.
Well hast thou said in brief what most imports:— Yet shame were this, that I with women talk! 830
Klytemnestra.
Stay—wherefore flee? Nay, give me thy right hand To clasp, the prelude to espousals blest.
Achilles.
How say'st?—mine hand in thine? Ashamed were I Before thy lord of such unsanctioned touch.
Klytemnestra.
'Tis wholly sanctioned, since thou art to wed 835 My child, O son of the Lady of the Sea.
Achilles.
What wedding this?—I know not what to say— Except of crazed wits this strange utterance come.
Klytemnestra.
'Tis all men's nature so in shame to shrink Before new kin and talk of spousal-rites. 840
Achilles.
Lady, thy daughter have I never wooed, Nor word of marriage Atreus' sons have said.
Klytemnestra.
What shall this mean? At my words marvel thou In turn; for passing strange are thine to me.
Achilles.
Think:—we have common cause to search out this. 845 Perchance nor thou nor I speak false herein.
Klytemnestra.
How?—have I been abused? Seek I a bridal Which is not, as doth seem? I am crushed with shame!
Achilles.
Some one perchance hath mocked both thee and me. Nay, lightly hold it, lay it not to heart. 850
Klytemnestra.
Farewell. I cannot with unshrinking eyes Meet thine, who am made a liar, outraged so.
Achilles.
Farewell I bid thee too. I pass within Yonder pavilion now to seek thy lord.
Old Servant (from within the tent).
Stranger, Aiakus' scion, tarry thou: what ho, to thee I call 855 Whom the Goddess bare!—and Leda's daughter, unto thee withal.
Achilles.
Who through doors half-opened calleth?—calleth with what fearful breath?
Old Servant.
Bond am I; I scorn the title not—nor fortune suffereth.
Achilles.
Whose? Not mine art thou, no part in Agamemnon's goods I have.
Old Servant.
Hers, who stands before the tent: me Tyndareus her father gave. 860
Achilles.
Lo, I stay: if aught thou wouldst, speak that for which thou bad'st me wait.
Old Servant.
Stand ye twain alone—none other near hereby—before the gate?
Achilles.
Speak: alone we are. From out the king's pavilion come thou nigher.
Old Servant (entering from tent).
Fortune, and my foresight, save ye them whose saving I desire!
Achilles.
Stately invocation this!—it may for needs to come avail! 865
Klytemnestra (as O. S. is about to kneel to her).
Linger not to touch mine hand, if thou to me wouldst tell thy tale.
Old Servant.
Loyal to thee and to thy children well thou knowest me, I ween,—
Klytemnestra.
Yea, I know that from of old mine house's servant thou hast been.
Old Servant.
And that Agamemnon gat me in possession with thy dower?
Klytemnestra.
Thou to Argos earnest with me, hast been mine unto this hour. 870
Old Servant.
So it is: to thee devoted more than to thy lord am I.
Klytemnestra.
Prithee now unveil thy secret, whatsoe'er the mystery.
Old Servant.
Lo, thy child her very father with his own hand soon shall slay—
Klytemnestra.
How?—avaunt the story, ancient! Sure thy wit is all astray!
Old Servant.
Severing thine unhappy daughter's snowy neck with murder's sword. 875
Klytemnestra.
Oh, alas for me! Now haply murder-frenzied is my lord.
Old Servant.
Sane—save touching thee and this thy daughter: only mad herein.
Klytemnestra.
What the reason? What avenging Demon drives him to the sin?
Old Servant.
Oracles, as Kalchas sayeth, that the host may pass the sea.
Klytemnestra.
Whither? Woe for me, for thee, whose father waits to murder thee! 880
Old Servant.
Unto Dardanus' halls, that Menelaus may bring Helen home.
Klytemnestra.
Ha! is Helen's home-returning fraught with Iphigeneia's doom?
Old Servant.
Thou hast all: the sire will sacrifice thy child to Artemis.
Klytemnestra.
And the marriage made the pretext!—trained me from my home to this!
Old Servant.
So that thou shouldst gladly bring thy child to be Achilles' bride. 885
Klytemnestra.
Daughter, to destruction com'st thou, and thy mother at thy side!
Old Servant.
Piteous lot is thine, is hers, and awful deed thy lord essayed.
Klytemnestra.
Woe is me! Undone! The fountains of my tears may not be stayed!
Old Servant.
If 'tis pain to be bereft of children, let the tear-flood flow.
Klytemnestra.
Nay, but ancient, whence hast heard it, sayest thou? How dost thou know? 890
Old Servant.
With a letter touching that aforetime written, hasted I.
Klytemnestra.
Countermanding, or re-urging me to bring my child to die?
Old Servant.
Nay, forbidding thee to bring; for then thy lord was sound of wit.
Klytemnestra.
Why then, bearing such a scroll, to me didst not deliver it?
Old Servant.
From me Menelaus snatched it, cause of all these miseries. 895
Klytemnestra.
Child of Thetis, Son of Peleus, hearest thou these infamies?
Achilles.
Yea, I hear thy sorrow, nor my part therein I tamely bear.
Klytemnestra.
They will slay my daughter, setting thine espousals for a snare!
Achilles.
Wroth am I against thy lord: I count it not a little thing.
Klytemnestra.
I will not think shame to bow me down unto thy knees to cling,— 900 Mortal unto child of Goddess:—what is matron-pride to me? Lo, for whom above my daughter should I labour instantly? Ah, be thou, O goddess-born, protector unto my despair And unto the maiden named thy bride, all vainly though it were. All for thee I wreathed her; leading her to be thy bride I came— 905 ​Came to slaughter leading her!—on thee shall fall reproach's shame, Who didst shield her not; for though ye ne'er were linked in marriage-ties, Yet the hapless maiden's husband wast thou called in any wise. By thy beard I pray, thy right hand, by thy mother's deity!— Since thy name was mine undoing, see thy name untarnished be. 910 Altar have I none to flee to, save thy knee, in my distress. Not a friend is near me. Agamemnon's cruel recklessness Thou hast seen; and I am come—a woman, as thou dost behold,— Unto this array of seafolk, lawless, and to evil bold, Yet, so they be willing, strong to help. If thou but dare extend 915 O'er mine head thine hand, our life is saved: if not, our life hath end.
Chorus.
Strange is this motherhood, of potent spell: All share it, all for offspring's sake will toil.
Achilles.
My whole soul's chivalry is to action stirred:— Yet hath my soul learnt temperance in grief 920 For troubles, and in joy for triumphs won: For such men are by reason schooled to pass Through life well, in cool judgment self-reliant;— True, pain sometimes rewards the over-wise, ​Yet oft of self-reliance profit comes. 925 Fostered by Cheiron, one that feared God most, Was I, and learned to tread no tortuous ways. And Atreus' sons, if righteously they lead, Will I obey; else will I not obey. Here, as in Troy, I'll keep me free man still, 930 And, as I may, will grace a hero's part. Thee, lady, outraged by thy nearest kin, Will I, so far as such young champion can, Right; so shall my compassion buckler thee. Ne'er by her father slain shall be thy child, 935 Once called my bride. I will not lend myself To be thy lord's tool in his subtle plots; Else this my name, though it have raised no steel, Shall slay thy daughter:—and the cause thereof Thy lord! My very blood were murder-tainted, 940 If this maid, suffering wrongs intolerable, For my sake and my marriage be destroyed, With outrage past belief unmerited. So were I basest among Argive men, A thing of nought,—and Menelaus a man!— 945 Sprung of no Peleus, but some vengeance-fiend, If my name shall do butchery for thy lord! No, by the foster-son of Ocean's waves, Nereus, the sire of Thetis who bare me, King Agamemnon shall not touch thy child— 950 Not on her robe to lay a finger-tip! Else half-barbaric Sipylus were a city, Whence sprang the line of yonder war-chief's house, And Phthia's name were nowhere named of men. ​His meal, his laver-drops of sacrifice, 955 Kalchas the seer shall rue! What is a seer? A man who speaks few truths, but many lies, When his shafts hit,—whose ill shots ruin him. It is not for the bride's sake—brides untold Are eager for mine hand—that this I say. 960 But King Agamemnon hath insulted me. He ought to have asked my name's use first of me To trap his child. Chiefly through trust in me Did Klytemnestra yield her lord her daughter. I had granted this to Greece, if only so 965 The voyage to Troy might be,—had not refused To aid their cause with whom I marched to war. But now in yon chiefs eyes I am as nought: To honour me or shame me is all one! Soon shall my sword know—ere it go to Troy 970 I will distain it with death-dews of blood— If any man shall wrest from me thy daughter. Calm thee: as some God strong to save I come, Though I be none; yet will I prove me such.
Chorus.
Thou speakest, son of Peleus, worthily 975 Of thee, and of the sea-born Goddess dread.
Klytemnestra.
How can I praise thee, and not over-praise, And yet not mar the grace by stint thereof? For good men praised do in a manner hate The praiser, if he praiseth overmuch. 980 ​I blush to thrust on thee my piteous tale. My pain is mine; mine anguish wrings not thee. Yet is it nobly done, when from his height The good man stoops to help the stricken ones. Pity me, for in piteous case am I, 985 Who, first, had dreamed that thou shouldst wed my child,— Vain hope was mine!—next, haply unto thee Ill omen for thy bridal yet to come Should be my child's death: take thou heed thereof. Well spakest thou, the first things as the last. 990 For, if thou will it, shall my child be saved. Wouldst thou she clasped thy knees a suppliant? No maiden's part!—yet, if it seems thee good, She shall come, lifting innocent frank eyes. But if without her I may win my suit, 995 In maiden pride let her abide within: Yet must "the possible" limit modesty.
Achilles.
Nay, bring not forth thy daughter in my sight, Nor, lady, risk we the reproach of fools: For this thronged host, of all home-trammels free, 1000 Loves evil babble of malicious tongues. In any wise the same end shall ye gain Praying or prayerless; for one mighty strife Waits me,—from evil to deliver you. One thing be sure thou hast heard—I will not lie. 1005 If lie I do, or mock you, may I die, And only die not, if I save the maid.
Klytemnestra.
Heaven bless thee, who still succourest the distressed!
Achilles.
Now hear me, that the matter well may speed.
Klytemnestra.
What meanest thou? I needs must list to thee. 1010
Achilles.
Let us to a better mood persuade her sire.
Klytemnestra.
He is something craven—fears o'ermuch the host.
Achilles.
Yet mightier wrestler reason is than fear.
Klytemnestra.
Cold hope is this: yet say what I must do.
Achilles.
Beseech him first to murder not his child. 1015 If he withstand thee, come thou unto me. For, if he heed thy prayer, I need not stir, Since in this very yielding is her life; And friendlier so to a friend shall I appear. ​Nor shall the army blame me, if I bring 1020 This thing to pass by reason, not by force. If all go well, upon thy friends and thee Shall gladness dawn, and that without mine aid.
Klytemnestra.
Ah wise words! I must act as seems thee best. But, if we shall not gain mine heart's desire, 1025 Where shall I see thee?—whither shall I go In misery, to find thy champion hand?
Achilles.
Where best befits will I keep watch for thee, That none behold thee traversing wild-eyed The Danaan host. Shame not thy father's house; 1030 For Tyndareus deserves not to be made A mock, for great is he midst Hellene men.
Klytemnestra.
This shall be. Rule thou—I must be thy thrall. If there be Gods, thy righteousness shall find Reward: if none there be, what boots to toil? 1035
[Exeunt severally Ach. and Kly.
Chorus.
(Str.) O what bridal-chant rang with the crying Of the Libyan flute, With the footfall of dancers replying To the voice of the lute, With the thrill of the reeds' glad greeting, ​In the day when o'er Pelion fleeting 1040 Unto Peleus' espousals, with beating Of golden-shod foot, The beautiful-tressed Song-maidens To the Gods' feast came, And their bridal-hymn's ravishing cadence Bore Thetis's fame O'er the hills of the Centaurs far-pealing, Through the woodlands of Pelion soft-stealing, The new-born splendour revealing Of the Aiakid's name! And Dardanus' child, whom the pinion 1050 Of the eagle bore From Phrygia, Ganymede, minion Of Zeus, did pour From the gold's depths nectar; while dancing Feet of the Sea-maids were glancing Through circles, through mazes entrancing The white sands o'er. (Ant.) Leaf-crowned came the Centaur riders With their lances of pine To the feast of the Heaven-abiders, 1060 And the bowls of their wine. "Hail, Sea-queen!"—so rang their acclaiming— "A light over Thessaly flaming"— Sang Cheiron, the unborn naming— "Thy scion shall shine." And, as Phœbus made clearer the vision, "He shall pass," sang the seer, "Unto Priam's proud land on a mission Of fire, with the spear And the shield of the Myrmidons, clashing ​In gold; for the Fire-king's crashing Forges shall clothe him with flashing Warrior-gear: Of his mother the gift shall be given, Of Thetis brought down." So did the Dwellers in Heaven With happiness crown The espousals of Nereus' Daughter, When a bride unto Peleus they brought her Of the seed of the Lords of the Water Chief in renown. (Epode.) But men shall wreathe thine head 1080 For death, thy golden hair,— As heifer white and red Down from the hill-caves led, A victim pure,—shall stain With blood thy throat snow-fair; Though never thou wert bred Where with the herdmen's strain The reed-pipes thrill the air; But at thy mother's side Wast nursed, wast decked a bride For a king's heir. What might hath now 1090 Modesty's maiden face Or virtue's brow?— When godlessness bears sway, And mortals thrust away Virtue, and cry "Give place!" When lawlessness hath law down-trod, And none will to his brother say "Let us beware the jealousy of God!"
​Enter Klytemnestra.
Klytemnestra.
Forth of the tent to seek my lord I come, Who is from his pavilion absent long; And drowned in tears mine hapless daughter is, 1100 With wails now ringing high, now moaning low, Since she hath heard what death her father plots. Lo, of one even now drawn nigh I spake, Yon Agamemnon, who shall straightway stand Convict of sin against his very child. 1105
Enter Agamemnon.
Agamemnon.
Leda's child, well met without the tent. I would speak with thee, ere our daughter come, Of that which fits not brides to be should hear.
Klytemnestra.
And what is this that fits the time so well?
Agamemnon.
Send forth the tent the maid to join her sire: 1110 For here the lustral waters stand prepared, And meal for hands to cast on cleansing flame, And victims that ere bridals must be slain To Artemis with spirtings of dark blood.
Klytemnestra.
Fair sound the things thou nam'st:—but to thy deeds 1115 I know not how to give fair-sounding names. Daughter, come forth: to the uttermost thou know'st Thy sire's design. The babe Orestes take, And bring thy brother folded in thy robes. Enter Iphigeneia: Lo, she is here, obedient unto thee. 1120 The rest, for her, for me, myself will speak.
Agamemnon.
Child, wherefore weep, and blithely look no more, But earthward bend thy vesture-shrouded eyes?
Klytemnestra.
Ah me! How shall I make beginning of my woes? For well may I account each one the first, 1125 Midmost, or last, in misery's tangled web.
Agamemnon.
How now? How find I each and all conspired To show in each face trouble and amaze?
Klytemnestra.
Answer my question, husband, like a man.
Agamemnon.
No need to bid me: I would fain be asked. 1130
Klytemnestra.
Thy child and mine—mean'st thou to murder her?
Agamemnon.
Ha!— A hideous question!—foul suspicion this!
Klytemnestra.
Peace! Render me answer first as touching this.
Agamemnon.
To question fair fair answer shalt thou hear.
Klytemnestra.
Nought else I ask, thou answer me nought else. 1135
Agamemnon.
O mighty Doom, O Fate, O fortune mine!
Klytemnestra.
And mine, and hers! One fate for wretched three.
Agamemnon.
Whom have I wronged?
Klytemnestra.
Thou—and of me—ask this? This wit of thine is utter witlessness!
Agamemnon.
Undone am I! My secret is betrayed! 1140
Klytemnestra.
I know all—yea, thy purposed crime have learnt. Thy very silence and thy groan on groan Are thy confession. Labour not with speech.
Agamemnon.
Lo, I am silent. Wherefore utter lies, And add unto misfortune shamelessness? 1145
Klytemnestra.
Give ear now; for I will unfold my pleas, Nor use half-hinting riddles any more. First,—that with this I may reproach thee first— By force, not of my will, didst thou wed me: Thou slewest Tantalus my sometime lord; 1150 Didst dash my living babe against the stones, Even from my breast with violence tearing him. Then did the Sons of Zeus, my brethren twain, Flashing on white steeds come to war with thee. But mine old father Tyndareus begged thy life, 1155 Who cam'st his suppliant, and thou keptest me. So reconciled to thee and to thine house, A blameless wife was I,—be witness thou,— Chaste in desires, increasing in thine halls Thy substance still, so that thine enterings-in 1160 Were joy, and thine outgoings happiness. Rare spoil is this for man to win such spouse: Of getting worthless wives there is no lack. This son, with daughters three, to thee I bare; And of one wilt thou rob me ruthlessly! 1165 ​Now, if one ask thee wherefore thou wilt slay her, Speak, what wilt say?—or must I speak for thee?— That Helen's lord may win her? Glorious this, To pay a wanton's price in children's lives! So shall we buy things loathed with things most loved. 1170 Come, if thou go to war, and leave me here At home, and through long absence tarry there, With what heart, think'st thou, shall I keep thine halls, When vacant of her I behold each chair, Vacant each maiden-bower, and sit me down 1175 In loneliness of tears, and mourn her ever— "O child, he which begat thee murdered thee Himself, none other, by none other hand, Leaving unto this house such vengeance-debt!"— Seeing there needeth but faint pretext now 1180 Whereon both I and thy seed left to thee Shall hail thee with such greeting as is meet. Nay, by the Gods, constrain not me to turn Traitress to thee; nor such be thou to me. Lo now— Thy daughter slain, what prayer wilt thou pray then, 1185 Implore what blessing, o'er thy murdered child? An ill home-coming, since in shame thou goest? Were't just that I pray any good for thee? O surely must we deem the Gods be fools, If we wish blessings upon murderers! 1190 Wilt thou return to Argos, clasp thy babes? ​Oh impious thought! What child shall meet thy look, If thou have given up one of them to death? Hast ta'en account of this? Or is it thine Only to flaunt a sceptre, lead a host? 1195 This righteous proffer shouldest thou have made— "Will ye, Achaians, sail to Phrygia-land? E'en then cast lots whose daughter needs must die." This had been fair—not that thou choose thine own The Danaans' victim, rather than that he 1200 Whose quarrel this is, Menelaus, slay Hermionê for her mother. Now must I, The loyal wife, be of my child bereft, While she, the harlot, brings her daughter home To dwell in Sparta mid prosperity! 1205 Herein if I plead ill, thou answer me: But if my words ring true, ah, slay not thou Thy child and mine, and so shalt thou be wise.
Chorus.
Heed her; for good it is thou join to save Thy child, Agamemnon: none shall gainsay this. 1210
Iphigeneia.
Had I the tongue of Orpheus, O my sire, To charm with song the rocks to follow me, And witch with eloquence whomsoe'er I would, I had essayed it. Now—mine only cunning— Tears will I bring, for this is all I can. 1215 And suppliant will I twine about thy knees My body, which this mother bare to thee ​Ah, slay me not untimely! Sweet is light: Constrain me not to see the nether gloom! 'Twas I first called thee father, thou me child. 1220 'Twas I first throned my body on thy knees, And gave thee sweet caresses and received. And this thy word was: "Ah, my little maid, Blest shall I see thee in a husband's halls Living and blooming worthily of me?" 1225 And, as I twined my fingers in thy beard, Whereto I now cling, thus I answered thee: "And what of thee? Shall I greet thy grey hairs, Father, with loving welcome in mine halls, Repaying all thy fostering toil for me?" 1230 I keep remembrance of that converse yet: Thou hast forgotten, thou wouldst murder me. Ah no!—by Pelops, by thy father Atreus, And by this mother, whose first travail-pangs Now in this second anguish are renewed! 1235 What part have I in Paris' rape of Helen? Why, father, should he for my ruin have come? Look on me—give me one glance—oh, one kiss, That I may keep in death from thee but this Memorial, if thou heed my pleading not. 1240 Brother, small help canst thou be to thy friends; Yet weep with me, yet supplicate thy sire To slay thy sister not!—some sense of ill Even in wordless infants is inborn. Lo, by his silence he implores thee, father— 1245 Have mercy, have compassion on my youth! Yea, by thy beard we pray thee, loved ones twain, A nestling one, and one a daughter grown. In one cry summing all, I must prevail! Sweet, passing sweet, is light for men to see, 1250 ​The grave's life nothingness! Who prays to die Is mad. Ill life o'erpasseth glorious death.
Chorus.
O thou wretch Helen! Through thee and thy sin Comes agony on the Atreids and their seed.
Agamemnon.
I know what asketh pity, what doth not, 1255 Who love mine own babes: I were madman else. Awful it is, my wife, to dare this deed, Yet awful to forbear. I must do this! Mark ye yon countless host with galleys fenced, And all the brazen-harnessed Hellene kings, 1260 For whom no voyaging is to Ilium's towers, But by thy blood, as Kalchas saith, the seer, Nor may we raze Troy's citadel renowned. A fiery passion maddeneth Hellas' host To sail in all haste to the aliens' land, 1265 And put an end to rapes of Hellene wives. My daughters will they slay in Argos—you And me,—if I annul the Goddess' hest. Not Menelaus hath enslaved me, child, Nor yet to serve his pleasure have I come. 1270 'Tis Hellas for whom—will I, will I not— I must slay thee: this cannot we withstand. Free must she be, so far as in thee lies, ​And me, child; nor by aliens' violence Must sons of Hellas of their wives be spoiled. 1275
[Exit.
Klytemnestra.
O child! O stranger damsels, see! Woe for thy death! Alas for me! Thy father flees, to Hades yielding thee!
Iphigeneia.
Alas for me, mother! One song for us twain Fate finds us—none other But this sad strain: 1280 Upon me shall the light and the beams of the sun shine never again.
O Phrygian glade Overgloomed by the crest Of Ida, where laid In a snow-heapen nest Was the suckling by Priam cast forth, which he plucked from the mother's breast,
Yea, left him to lie Till the death-doom should claim Paris, whereby 1290 Throughout Troy was his name Paris of Ida, where fostered a herdman mid kine he became.
Would God amid fountains Of foam-silvered sheen ​Of the nymphs of the mountains His home had not been, Nor where roses and bluebells for Goddesses bloomed amid watermeads green!
Came the Queen of Beguiling 1300 With love-litten eye Passion-kindling, and smiling As for victory nigh; Came Pallas in pride of her prowess, and Hera the Queen of the Sky:
And Hermes was there, The Herald of Heaven. So the Strife of Most Fair, Loathed contest, was striven, Whereof to me death, but to Danaans glory, O damsels, was given. 1310
Me the Huntress receiveth For her firstfruits of prey, And mine own sire leaveth His child—doth betray A daughter most wretched, O mother, my mother, and fieeth away.
Woe's me to have seen her— Helen, whose name Is a bitterness keener Than words may frame! She is made to me slaughter and doom, and a father's deed of shame.
O had Aulis received not Bronze prows long embayed! 1320 ​O had Troy been reprieved not While their pine-wings delayed! O had Zeus never breathed on Euripus the breath that our voyaging stayed!—
He who tempers his gales Unto men as he will; Some shake out glad sails, Some in sorrow sit still Fate-fettered: these speed from the haven, the white wings of those never fill.
O travail-worn seed 1330 Of the sons of a day! How Fate hath decreed Disaster alway! What burden of anguish did Tyndareus' child on the Danaans lay!
Chorus.
I pity thee for this unhappy lot Found of thee: would thou ne'er hadst come thereon!
Iphigeneia.
Mother mine, I see a throng of men that hither hasten on!
Klytemnestra.
Child, 'tis he for whom thou earnest hither, even Thetis' son.
Iphigeneia.
Handmaids, ope to me the doors, that I within may hide my face! 1340
Klytemnestra.
Wherefore flee, my child?
Iphigeneia.
For shame I cannot meet Achilles' gaze.
Klytemnestra.
Wherefore so?
Iphigeneia.
With shame the misery of my bridal crusheth me.
Klytemnestra.
Not in plight for dainty shrinking art thou when 'tis thus with thee. Tarry then: no time is this for maiden pride, if we but may—
Enter Achilles.
Achilles.
Hapless woman, child of Leda!—
Klytemnestra.
True is this that thou dost say. 1345
Achilles.
Fearfully the Argives clamour—
Klytemnestra.
What their clamour?—tell the thing.
Achilles.
Touching this thy daughter.
Klytemnestra.
Ah, thy words with evil presage ring!
Achilles.
"Slain she must be!" cry they.
Klytemnestra.
Is there none whose words with theirs contend?
Achilles.
Yea, myself in tumult's peril was,—
Klytemnestra.
What peril, stranger friend?
Achilles.
Even to be stoned with stones.
Klytemnestra.
Since thou hadst fain my daughter spared? 1350
Achilles.
Even so.
Klytemnestra.
But lay a hand on thee! And who such deed had dared?
Achilles.
All the Hellenes.
Klytemnestra.
But with thee was not thy people's battle-host?
Achilles.
First were these to turn against me,—
Klytemnestra.
Oh my daughter, we are lost!
Achilles.
Taunted me as thrall to marriage.
Klytemnestra.
And what answer didst thou frame?
Achilles.
"Slay my destined bride," I said, "ye shall not,"— 1355
Klytemnestra.
Yea, a righteous claim.
Achilles.
"Whom her father promised!"
Klytemnestra.
Yea, to Argos sent withal to bring.
Achilles.
Yet was I outclamoured.
Klytemnestra.
Ah, the rabble is a baneful thing!
Achilles.
Yet will I defend thee.
Klytemnestra.
Singly fight against a multitude?
Achilles.
Seest thou these who bear mine armour?
Klytemnestra.
Blessings on thy dauntless mood!
Achilles.
Yea, I shall be blest.
Klytemnestra.
She shall not now be on the altar laid? 1360
Achilles.
Not while I am living.
Klytemnestra.
How, will any come to seize the maid?
Achilles.
Thousands—and Odysseus leading—
Klytemnestra.
He, the seed of Sisyphus?
Achilles.
Even he.
Klytemnestra.
Self-bidden, or did all the host appoint it thus?
Achilles.
Chosen, and consenting.
Klytemnestra.
Evil choice, for murderous violence!
Achilles.
Nay, but I will stay him. 1365
Klytemnestra.
Would he hale her unconsenting hence?
Achilles.
Yea, and by her golden tresses.
Klytemnestra.
What must then be done of me?
Achilles.
Cling unto thy child.
Klytemnestra.
If this may save her, slain she shall not be.
Achilles.
Ay, and surely unto this it will come.
Iphigeneia.
Mother,—to my word Hearken ye!—against thine husband I behold thee anger-stirred ​Causelessly: 'twere hard for us inevitable doom to brave. 1370 Meet it is we thank the stranger-hero for his will to save. Yet, that he be not reproached of Hellas' host must we beware; So should ruin seize him, and ourselves in no wise better fare. Hear the thing that flashed upon me, mother, as I thought hereon. Lo, resolved I am to die; and fain am I that this be done 1375 Gloriously—that I thrust ignoble craven thoughts away. Prithee, mother, this consider with me: mark how well I say. Unto me all mighty Hellas looks: I only can bestow Boons upon her—sailing of her galleys, Phrygia's overthrow, Safety for her daughters from barbarians in the days to come, 1380 That the ravisher no more may snatch them from a happy home, When the penalty is paid for Paris' victim, Helen's shame. All this great deliverance I in death shall compass, and my name, As of one who gave to Hellas freedom, shall be blessing-crowned. Must I live, that clutching life with desperate hand I should be found? 1385 For the good of Hellenes didst thou bear me, not for thine alone. ​Lo, how countless warriors with the shield before the bosom thrown,— Myriads, now the fatherland is wronged, with strenuous oar in hand,— All will fear not to encounter foes, to die for Hellas-land. And shall all be thwarted, baffled by the life of one—of me? 1390 Where were justice here?—and what can I set forth for answering plea? Turn we now to this thing also:—never ought this man to make War on all the Argives, no, nor perish—for a woman's sake! Better than ten thousand women one man is to look on light. Lo, if Artemis hath willed to claim my body as her right, 1395 What, shall I, a helpless mortal woman, thwart the will divine? Nay, it cannot be. My body unto Hellas I resign. Sacrifice me, raze ye Troy; for this through all the ages is My memorial: children, marriage, glory—all are mine in this! Right it is that Hellenes rule barbarians, not that alien yoke 1400 Rest on Hellenes, mother. They be bondmen, we be freeborn folk.
Chorus.
Noble the part thou playest, maiden, is: But Fate and Artemis—ill part is theirs!
Achilles.
Agamemnon's child, a God came near to bless 1405 Me, could I but have won thee for my bride. Happy in thee is Hellas, thou in Hellas! Well saidst thou this, and worthily of our land: Thou hast turned away from strife with Gods—a thing Too hard for thee—hast weighed the good Fate spares. 1410 Yet love for thee now thrills me through the more That I have seen thy nature, noble heart. Wherefore look to it: thee I fain would serve, And bear thee home. I chafe, be Thetis witness, That I should save thee not in battle-shock 1415 With Danaans. Think—a fearful thing is death.
Iphigeneia.
I say this,—as one past all hope and fear:— Suffice that through her beauty Tyndareus' child Stirs strife and slaughter: but thou, stranger-prince, Die not for me, nor slay thou any man. 1420 Let me be Hellas' saviour, if I may.
Achilles.
O soul heroic!—nought can I say more Hereto, since fixed thine heart is. Thy resolve Is noble—why should one say not the truth? But yet,—for haply yet thy mood may change,— 1425 That thou mayst know the proffer that I make, I go, to place my weapons nigh the altar, Ready to suffer not, but bar, thy death. Thou mayst, even thou, unto mine offer turn, When thou beholdest at thy throat the knife. 1430 Thou shalt not through a hasty impulse die. ​No, with these arms will I unto the shrine, And for thy coming thither will I wait.
[Exit.
Iphigeneia.
Mother, why art thou weeping silently?
Klytemnestra.
Good cause have I, woe's me! to break mine heart. 1435
Iphigeneia.
Forbear, make me not craven; but this do—
Klytemnestra.
Speak: thou shalt have no wrong of me, my child.
Iphigeneia.
Shear not for me the tresses of thine hair, Neither in sable stole array thy form.
Klytemnestra.
Why say'st thou this? When I have lost thee, child!— 1440
Iphigeneia.
Nay, I am saved. Thy glory shall I be.
Klytemnestra.
How sayest thou? Must I not mourn thy death?
Iphigeneia.
Nay, nay: no grave-mound shall be heaped for me.
Klytemnestra.
How then?—in death is burial not implied?
Iphigeneia.
Zeus' Daughter's altar is my sepulchre. 1445
Klytemnestra.
Child, I will do thy bidding. Thou say'st well.
Iphigeneia.
As one blest, benefactor of our Greece.
Klytemnestra.
What message to thy sisters shall I bear?
Iphigeneia.
Them too array thou not in sable stole.
Klytemnestra.
Shall I bear them some word of love from thee? 1450
Iphigeneia.
Only "Farewell!" Orestes rear to man.
Klytemnestra.
Embrace him: for the last time look on him.
Iphigeneia (to Orestes).
Dearest, thou gav'st us all the help thou couldst!
Klytemnestra.
Can I do aught at home to pleasure thee?
Iphigeneia.
My father and thine husband hate not thou. 1455
Klytemnestra.
A fearful course for thy sake must he run!
Iphigeneia.
Sore loth, for Hellas' sake, hath he destroyed me.
Klytemnestra.
By guile unkingly, unworthy Atreus' son!
Iphigeneia.
What friend will lead me, ere mine hair be rent?
Klytemnestra.
I will go with thee—
Iphigeneia.
Nay, thou say'st not well. 1460
Klytemnestra.
Grasping thy vesture.
Iphigeneia.
Heed me, mother mine— Tarry: for thee, for me, 'tis better so. Let one of my sire's henchmen lead me on To Artemis' meadow, where I shall be slain.
Klytemnestra.
Child, art thou gone?—
Iphigeneia.
I shall return no more. 1465
Klytemnestra.
Leaving thy mother!
Iphigeneia.
As thou seest:—'tis hard.
Klytemnestra.
Hold!—O forsake me not!
Iphigeneia.
Nay, shed no tear. (Klyt. enters the tent). Ye damsels, raise all-hails of happy speed— The pæan for my lot—to Zeus's child Artemis. Bid the host keep reverent hush. 1470 Bring maunds of sacrifice, let blaze the flame With purifying meal; and let my sire Compass the altar rightward. Lo, I come To give to Hellas safety victory-crowned.
Raises the processional chant.
Lead me for Ilium's, Phrygia's, overthrowing: 1475 Give to me garlands, bring festooning flowers: Lo, my locks wait the blossoms overstrowing, The lustral laver-showers. ​To Artemis the Queen, blest Goddess, treading 1480 A measure, fane and altar compass ye. I wash the curse out with the hallowed shedding Of blood, if this must be.
Mother, for thee my fount of pity streameth Now—for I may not at the altar weep. 1490 Sing, maidens, Artemis, whose temple gleameth Toward Chalkis, o'er the deep,
From where, in Aulis' straitened havens, shaken In fury, spears are at my name uptossed. Hail, mother-land Pelasgia! Hail, forsaken Mycenian home—home lost!
Chorus.
Dost thou on the city of Perseus cry, 1500 By the toil of the Cyclopes builded high?
Iphigeneia.
For a light unto Hellas thou fosteredst me, And I die—O freely I die for thee!
Chorus.
Yea, for thy glory shall never die.
Iphigeneia.
Hail, Light divine! Hail, Day in whose hands doth the World's Torch shine! In a strange new life must I dwell, And a strange new lot must be mine. Farewell, dear light, farewell! [Exit.
Chorus.
See who, for Ilium's, Phrygia's, overthrowing, 1510 With her fair hair for death bestarred with flowers, Is to the sacrificial altar going Besprent with laver-showers—
Yea, to the altar of the murder-lover, To sprinkle it with thine outrushing life, Whose crimson all thy shapely neck shall cover Gashed by the fearful knife.
For thee the lustral dews of thy sire's pouring Wait: the Achaian thousands Troyward strain. 1520 Chant we Zeus' Child, the Huntress-queen adoring; For O, thy loss is gain!
Joyer in human blood, to Phrygia's far land Speed thou the host, to Troy the treason-shore; So crown the King, crown Hellas with a garland 1530 Of glory evermore.
Enter Messenger.
Messenger.
Daughter of Tyndareus, Klytemnestra, come Forth from the tent, that thou mayst hear my tale.
Enter Klytemnestra.
Klytemnestra.
I heard thy voice, and hitherward I come, Wretched with horror, all distraught with fear 1535 Lest thou have brought to crown the present woe Some fresh one.
Messenger.
Nay, but fain am I to tell, Touching thy child, a strange and awesome thing.
Klytemnestra.
Linger not then, but tell it with all speed.
Messenger.
Yea, all, dear mistress, clearly shalt thou learn, 1540 From the beginning told, except my tongue Through my mind's turmoil falter in the tale. When to the grove we came of Artemis, Zeus' child, and to her meadows flower-bestarred, The place of muster for Achaia's host, 1545 Leading thy child, straightway the Argive throng Gathered. But when King Agamemnon saw The maid for slaughter entering the grove, He heaved a groan, he turned his head away Weeping, and drew his robe before his eyes. 1550 But to her father's side she came, and stood, And said, "My father, at thine hest I come, And for my country's sake my body give, And for all Hellas, to be led of you Unto the Goddess' altar, willingly, 1555 And sacrificed, since this is Heaven's decree. Prosper, so far as rests with me, and win Victory, and return to fatherland. Then let no Argive lay a hand on me: Silent, unflinching, will I yield my neck." 1560 So spake she; and all marvelled when they heard The maiden's courage and her heroism. Forth stood Talthybius then, whose part it was, ​Proclaiming silence and a reverent hush. And the seer Kalchas in a golden maund 1565 Laid down a keen knife which his hand had drawn Out of its sheath, then crowned the maiden's head. Then Peleus' son took maund and lustral bowl, And round the altar of the Goddess ran, And cried, "Zeus' Daughter, slayer of wild beasts, 1570 Whose wheels of light roll splendours through the gloom, Accept this offering which we render thee, Achaia's host, with Agamemnon King, The unsullied blood from a fair maiden's neck; And grant the galleys voyaging unvexed; 1575 And grant our spears may spoil the towers of Troy." With bowed heads Atreus' sons and all the host Stood. The priest took the knife and spake the prayer, And scanned her throat for fittest place to strike. Then through my soul exceeding anguish thrilled: 1580 Mine head drooped:—lo, a sudden miracle! For each man plainly heard the blow strike home; But the maid—none knew whither she had vanished. Loud cried the priest: all echoed back the cry, Seeing a portent by some God sent down 1585 Unlooked-for, past belief, albeit seen. For gasping on the ground there lay a hind Most huge to see, and passing fair to view, With whose blood all the Goddess' altar ran. Then Kalchas cried—how gladly ye may guess:— 1590 "O chieftains of this leagued Achaian host, See ye this victim by the Goddess laid Before her altar, even a mountain hind? This holds she more acceptable than the maid, That she stain not with noble blood her altar. 1595 ​Gladly she hath accepted this, and grants To us fair voyage and onset upon Troy. Be of good cheer then every mariner! Hence to the galleys; for this day must we Fleet out of Aulis' hollow bays, and cross 1600 The Aegean surge." So when the victim all Was burnt to ashes in the Fire-god's flame, Meet prayer he offered for the host's return. Me Agamemnon sped to tell thee this, And say what heaven-sent fortune fair he hath, 1605 What deathless fame through Hellas he hath won. Lo, I was there, and speak as one who saw. Doubtless thy child was wafted to the Gods. Forbear grief, cease from wrath against thy lord. Of mortals unforeseen the Gods' ways are, 1610 And whom they love they save: for this same day Dying and living hath beheld thy child.
Chorus.
How glad I hear the messenger's report! He saith thy child bides living midst the Gods.
Klytemnestra.
O daughter, of what God stolen art thou? 1615 How shall I bid farewell to thee?—how Know this for aught but a sweet lie, spoken To heal the heart that for thee is broken?
Chorus.
Lo there King Agamemnon draweth nigh Bearing the selfsame tale to tell to thee. 1620
​Enter Agamemnon.
Agamemnon.
Wife, for our child's fate happy may we be, For she in truth hath fellowship with Gods. Now must thou take this weanling little one, And journey home; for seaward looks the host. Farewell:—it shall be long ere thee I greet, 1625 From Troy returning. Be it well with thee.
Chorus.
Pass, Atreus' scion, to Phrygia's land with joy, And with joy from the battle-toil come, bearing the glorious spoil Of Troy.
[Exeunt omnes.
* ↑ Agamemnon, absorbed in his occupation within, has taken no note of the lapse of time. Now he suddenly recognises that the element of time is all-important, both that his messenger may leave the camp unperceived, and that the latter may be in time to stop Iphigeneia at a distance from Aulis. Hence (the stars being the night-clocks of the ancients) his question betrays his fear—"Is there yet time?" The servant's answer implies that the dawn is yet distant; and the king is further reassured as he observes that the first chirp of the waking bird has not broken the stillness, and that the winds, which probably blew adversely all day, and fell to a dead calm at night, gave no token of stirring. It has been objected that Sirius is not "near the Pleiads," since, though he is indeed in the next constellation but one to theirs, there is a considerable space of sky between them. But, when we remember that the stars were to the ancients the figures on the dial of the night, we observe that Sirius is the figure next before the Pleiads. He touches the western horizon about half an hour before them.
* ↑ ἄθραυστα (England).
* ↑ ὅποι (England).
* ↑ Adopting Nauck's arrangement and reading for ll. 149–152.
* ↑ See Andromache, 284–5.
* ↑ There is nowhere else any mention of an Adrastus in this connection. Hence others read ἀδελφός, "his brother," others ἄτρεστος, "the dauntless."
* ↑ Adopting Paley's arrangement of lines.
* ↑ England's punctuation.
* ↑ Or with special reference to line 392, "since the Goddess offers so to bless thine house."
* ↑ It was customary before a marriage to make offerings to Artemis on behalf of the bride. The tragic irony is obvious.
* ↑ Reading γ’ ἀρεστὸν (Nauck) for γε χρηστὸν "For nothing good."
* ↑ The mythical inventor of the shepherd's pipe.
* ↑ Or (Headlam), "For timorous is the steed's eye, if none soothe."
* ↑ Apart from tragic irony, this would simply mean, "More than I can express." But similar phrases seem to have been generally used with sinister meaning. See Medea, 1011, Iph. in T. 575, Troades 626, Electra 289 and 1122.
* ↑ Commentators are agreed that this line cannot have been written as it stands, on the ground that 651, which is (on the face of it), natural and intelligible, does not suggest it, nor, again, does this suggest 653. Something like "Nor thou nor I, dear father, know how long," would seem to be required. The line may, however, as it stands, mean, expanded, "A father does not talk in such terms of the parting due to a daughter's marriage:—is there some hidden meaning in what you say?" Then the reference to her penetration, in Agamemnon's answer, would be natural.
* ↑ Lit. "he who had (paternal) control over her."
* ↑ κάλως ἀν’ ἀγκύρας τε; "Mid hawsers and ships' anchors!" is Palmer's ingenious emendation, adopted by England.
* ↑ Reading γαμεῖν.
* ↑ Reading δρᾶ δ’.
* ↑ This invocation of the Goddess of Modesty (as though to protect him), reminds us that in Euripides' time the same reserve towards strangers, especially those of the opposite sex, was expected from a well-brought-up Greek youth, that we expect from girls.
* ↑ Sarcastic—"There is no occasion for such high-flown appeals now: they may avail against future peril:"—neither Achilles nor Klytemnestra having any suspicion of present danger.
* ↑ Since the House of Atreus was notoriously under the ban of ancient crimes, this occurs as a possible explanation.
* ↑ Reading παρεῖχε. England reads γάμον τιν’ εἶχε, "And of marriage made he pretext."
* ↑ Adopting England's reading.
* ↑ In Lydia. The Greek, in view of all that the word πόλις implied to him, scorned to apply it to what he regarded as mere collections of dwellings of semi-savages.
* ↑ Excessive praise was believed to provoke the Gods' jealousy. Hence no true friend would indulge in it.
* ↑ So Hermann, Headlam, and others. Paley, "Yet must thou show her mercy as thou canst."
* ↑ Or as England punctuates, "What meanest thou that I must hear of thee?"
* ↑ Reading, with England, φόβους, instead of the common reading λόγους, "Yet argument outwrestleth argument."
* ↑ Father of Klytemnestra.
* ↑ The original is a musical metaphor, "Uttering lamentations in many variously-pitched keys."
* ↑ Lit. "calves;" but this word is used in poetry for young girls: thus the "tragic irony" points to the purpose of slaying the maiden ere any marriage can be celebrated.
* ↑ Reading much disputed. England, τί μ’ ἠδίκησας, "Wherefore so wrong me?" Others, τίς σ’ ἠδίκησε, "Now who hath wronged thee?"
* ↑ Reading ζῶν προσούδισας πέδῳ.
* ↑ It would seem that either something has here been interpolated, or something lost. Paley suggests, to connect the sense, and to make 1182 plainer, "Leaving such recompense due unto thee, How wilt thou dare to seek again thine house?"
* ↑ England and Headlam adopt μετανόει δὴ μὴ κτανεῖν, "repent, slay not."
* ↑ "Come not unto me with thy babble of comfort in death! Rather would I be a hireling to drudge in the fields all day With a landless master, who sparely would feed me, and niggardly pay, Than over the hosts of the dead which have died a sceptre to sway." Odyssey, xi, 488—491.
* ↑ Or (Paley), "Arrayed in armour?"
* ↑ If I do not promptly go of my own accord, they will come to drag me by the hair (l. 1366).
* ↑ Or, "Let the host hushed hear it rise." Their clamours may have been heard behind the scenes.