Iphigenia at Tauris. A Dramatic Poem, Acts II-III [pp. 65-70]

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VOL. X. RICHMOND, FEBRUARY, 1844. NO. 2.
IPHIGENIA AT TAURIS.
A DRAMATIC POEM.
When, musing o'er the fire, sad Electra
Sat solitary in the large old hall,
1 anxiously have climbed into her lap,
And stared with wondering eyes upon her tears.
TShen of our noble father would she speak
And I, in eager longing to be with him,
Now wished myself at Troy, now him at home.
Then came the hour Pylades. 0 let that be a theme
For nightly converse among hellish ghosts:
We, from the memory of brighter days,
Must gather strength for new heroic effort.
The Gods have use for good men here on earth,
To do their will, and still they count on thee,
Nor gave thee as companion to thy Father,
When he reluctantly went down to Orcus.
Orestes. O! had I caught his hem and followed him.
Pylades. Much cause have I to thank the hand that
saved thee;
For what were I without thee, since with thee,
And for thy sake alone, from infancy,
I've wished to live.
Orestes. Remind me not, I pray thee,
Of those bright days, when, in thy father's house,
I found a refuge, where his prudent care
Tenderly nursed the bruised and blighted blossom,
While thou, forever gay and light of heart,
Sporting around me like a butterfly
O'er a dark flower hovering, to my soul
Inparted the glad cheerfulness of thine,
Till 1, forgetful of my fate, and swayed
By youthful sympathy, would lose myself
In dreams enthusiastic.
Pylades. It was then
My life began-then when I first loved thee.
Orestes. More truly say that then thy griefs began.
Horrible fate! That I, thus plague-infected
And driven fiom society, must bear
Anguish and death to others in mv bosom.
Go where I will, tho' all before w as health,
The blooming cheek grows pale at my approach
And wears the marks of death, certain tho' slow.
Pylades. Were poison in thy breath, Orestes, I
Should be the first to perish; but thou seest me
Still full of cheerful confidence and courage;
And Love and Confidence are wings that bear
To great achievements.
Orestes. Great achievements! Yes,
The time has been when we to such looked forward,
When we on mount and vale pursued our prey,
And hoped to see the day, when rivalling
The courage and the prowess of over fathers,
We too, with club and sword, might hunt the monster,
Or track the robber to his cave, and then
When, leaning on each other, we would sit
At evening, looking out o'er the broad sea,
The rippling wave breaking against our feet,
Arid all the world spread out before our eyes:
Then would we grasp the Sword, and deeds of glory
Through the dark future glittered like the stars
Whose countless host spangled the night's black brow,
Pylades. The work the soul proposes to herself
Is infinite, still burning to achieve
Deeds of such splendor, as at once may rival
The glories which are still the poet's theme,
(Translatedfrom the German of Goethe.)
Orestes. Pylades.
Orestes. We tread the path of Death, and at each step
My soul is more composed. When to Apollo
I prayed, to free me from the avenging fiends
That ever dogged my steps, he seemed to promise,
That, in the temple of his much loved sister,
Who rules o'er Tauris, I should find assistance
And relief. This plighted God's word
So full of hope, is sure of its fulfilment,
For, with my life, my sufferings soon will end.
Beautiful Sun! how easy to resign
Thy light, to one whose heart the hand of God
Has crushed to numbness. If no laurelled death,
The price of glorious victory awaits
The sons of Atreus-if, like my brave father,
Like all my ancestors, it be my doom
To die a bloody death, so let it be.
Better to bleed before the altar here
Than in a corner, by the assassin hand
Of anear kinsman. F'iends of Tartarus,
Who dog my steps. while yet I walk the earth,
And, like the sleuth-hound, snuff the blood that marks them,
Let me alone! soon I go down to you.
The light of day no more shall be polluted
By sight of you or me; nor earth's green carpet
Be stained by Demon feet. There, in your den,
I'll seek you out; there, where one equal fate
Shall seal us all in everlasting night.
Thee, Pylades, companion of rmy crime,
Though innocent, thee, partner of my doom!
1 grieve to bear thee to that mournful land,
UIntirnely snatched away. Thy life or death
Alone awakens hope or fear in me.
Pylades. Not yet, like thee, Orestes, am I ready
The abode of Ghosts to visit. Still 1 hope,
Among the tangled paths that seem to tend
All downward to black night, to find a way
That leads to life again. Of death I think not.
I wait the pleasure of the Gods, and hope,
That they will yet provide a glad escape.
Death, whether feared or no, comes when he will,
But when, to sever our devoted locks,
The Priestess lifts her hand, I still shall think
Only of thine and my deliverance. Rouse
Thy soul from this despondency. Our danger
Is but increased by doubt. Did not Apollo
Plight thee his word, that in his Sister's Temple
Aid-solace-safe return were all prepared?
The words of Gods are not ambiguous,
Though thus the afiicted and desponding deem.
Orestes. The web of destiny my mother spread
Over my infant head, and as I grew
In likeness to my father, tho' I spoke not,
My presence to her paramour and her
Was a severe rebuke. Alas! How often
VOL. X-9
i
IN FIVE ACTS.
ACT II-SCENE 1.
I