Iphigenia in Tauris [3]
spear, Image Athenian Pallas there: But on this barbarous shore The unhappy stranger's fate I moan, The ruthless altar stain'd with gore, His deep and dying groan; And, for each tear that weeps his woes, From me a tear of pity flows. Of these the sad remembrance now must sleep: A brother dead, ah me! I weep: At Argos him, by fate oppress'd, I left an infant at the breast, A beauteous bud, whose opening charms Then blossom'd in his mother's arms; Orestes, born to high command, The imperial sceptre of the Argive land. LEADER OF THE CHORUS Leaving the sea-wash'd shore a herdsman comes Speeding, with some fresh tidings to thee fraught. (A HERDSMAN enters.) HERDSMAN Daughter of Agamemnon, and bright gem Of Clytemnestra, hear strange things from me. IPHIGENIA And what of terror doth thy tale import? HERDSMAN Two youths, swift-rowing 'twixt the clashing rocks Of our wild sea, are landed on the beach, A grateful offering at Diana's shrine, And victims to the goddess. Haste, prepare The sacred lavers, and the previous rites. IPHIGENIA Whence are the strangers? from what country named? HERDSMAN From Greece: this only, nothing more, I know. IPHIGENIA Didst thou not hear what names the strangers bear? HERDSMAN One by the other was call'd Pylades. IPHIGENIA How is the stranger, his companion, named? HERDSMAN This none of us can tell: we heard it not. IPHIGENIA How saw you them? how seized them? by what chance? HERDSMAN Mid the rude cliffs that o'er the Euxine hang- IPHIGENIA And what concern have herdsmen with the sea? HERDSMAN To wash our herds in the salt wave we came. IPHIGENIA To what I ask'd return: how seized you them? Tell me the manner; this I wish to know: For slow the victims come, nor hath some while The altar of the goddess, as was wont, Been crimson'd with the streams of Grecian blood. HERDSMAN Our herds, which in the forest feed, we drove Amid the tide that rushes to the shore, 'Twixt the Symplegades: it was the place, Where in the rifted rock the chafing surge Hath hallow'd a rude cave, the haunt of those Whose quest is purple. Of our number there A herdsman saw two youths, and back return'd With soft and silent step; then pointing, said, "Do you not see them? These are deities That sit there." One, who with religious awe Revered the gods, with hands uplifted pray'd, His eyes fix'd on them,-"Son of the sea-nymph Leucothoe, guardian of the labouring bark, Our lord Palaemon, be propitious to us! Or sit you on our shores, bright sons of Jove, Castor and Pollux? Or the glorious boast Of Nereus, father of the noble choir Of fifty Nereids?" One, whose untaught mind Audacious folly harden'd 'gainst the sense Of holy awe, scoff'd at his prayers, and said,- "These are wreck'd mariners, that take their seat In the cleft rock through fear, as they have heard Our prescribed rite, that here we sacrifice The stranger." To the greater part he seem'd Well to have spoken, and we judged it meet To seize the victims, by our country's law Due to the goddess. Of the stranger youths, One at this instant started from the rock: Awhile he stood, and wildly toss'd his head, And groan'd, his loose arms trembling all their length, Convulsed with madness; and a hunter loud Then cried,-"Dost thou behold her, Pylades? Dost thou not see this dragon fierce from hell Rushing to kill me, and against me rousing Her horrid vipers? See this other here, Emitting fire and slaughter from her vests, Sails on her wings, my mother in her arms Bearing, to hurl this mass of rock upon me! Ah, she will kill me! Whither shall I fly?" His visage might we see no more the same, And his voice varied; now the roar of bulls, The howl of dogs now uttering, mimic sounds