IPHIGENIA. Unblest Mycene! Thus the sons Of Tantalus, with barbarous hands, have sown Curse upon curse; and, as the shaken weed Scatters around a thousand poison-seeds, So they assassins ceaseless generate, Their children's children ruthless to destroy.-- Now tell the remnant of thy brother's tale, Which horror darkly hid from me before. How did the last descendant of the race,-- The gentle child, to whom the Gods assign'd The office of avenger,--how did he Escape that day of blood? Did equal fate Around Orestes throw Avernus' net? Say, was he saved? and is he still alive? And lives Electra, too?
IPHIGENIA. Golden Apollo, lend thy choicest beams! Lay them an offering at the throne of Jove! For I am poor and dumb.
ORESTES. If social bonds Or ties more close connect thee with this house, As this thy joy evinces, rein thy heart; For insupportable the sudden plunge From happiness to sorrow's gloomy depth. As yet thou only know'st the hero's death.
IPHIGENIA. And is not this intelligence enough?
ORESTES. Half of the horror yet remains untold.
IPHIGENIA. Electra and Orestes both survive, What have I then to fear?
ORESTES. And fear'st thou nought For Clytemnestra?
IPHIGENIA. Her, nor hope nor fear Have power to save.
ORESTES. She to the land of hope Hath bid farewell.
IPHIGENIA. Did her repentant hand Shed her own blood?
ORESTES. Not so; yet her own blood Inflicted death.
IPHIGENIA. Speak less ambiguously. Uncertainty around my anxious head Her dusky, thousand-folded, pinion waves.
ORESTES. Have then the powers above selected me To be the herald of a dreadful deed, Which, in the drear and soundless realms of night, I fain would hide for ever? 'Gainst my will Thy gentle voice constrains me; it demands, And shall receive, a tale of direst woe. Electra, on the day when fell her sire, Her brother from impending doom conceal'd; Him Strophius, his father's relative, With kindest care receiv'd, and rear'd the child With his own son, named Pylades, who soon Around the stranger twin'd the bonds of love. And as they grew, within their inmost souls There sprang the burning longing to revenge The monarch's death. Unlookd for, and disguis'd, They reach Mycene, feigning to have brought The mournful tidings of Orestes' death, Together with his ashes. Them the queen Gladly receives. Within the house they enter; Orestes to Electra shows himself: She fans the fires of vengeance into flame, Which in the sacred presence of a mother Had burn'd more dimly. Silently she leads Her brother to the spot where fell their sire; Where lurid blood-marks, on the oft-wash'd floor, With pallid streaks, anticipate revenge. With fiery eloquence she pictures forth Each circumstance of that atrocious deed,-- Her own oppress'd and miserable life, The prosperous traitor's insolent demeanour, The perils threat'ning Agamemnon's race From her who had become their stepmother; Then in his hand the ancient dagger thrusts, Which often in the house of Tantalus With savage fury rag'd,--and by her son Is Clytemnestra slain.