SCENE I.
ORESTES, PYLADES.
ORESTES.
Whither, my Pylades, hath cruel fate
Conducted us? alas! Orestes lives
But to increase the sorrows of his friend:
Our arms, our treasures, and our soldiers lost
In the rude storm; here on this desert coast,
No succor near, deserted and forlorn
We wander on, and naught but hope remains.
Where are we?
PYLADES.
That I know not; but since fate
Hath led us hither, let us not despair;
It is enough for me, Orestes lives:
Be confident; the barbarous Ægisthus
In vain pursued thy life, which heaven preserved
In Epidaurus, when thy arm subdued
The gallant Plisthenes: let naught alarm
Or terrify thy soul, but boldly urge
Thy way, protected by that guardian God
Who watches o’er the just, the great avenger,
Who hath already to thy valor given
The son, and promised that ere long the father
Shall follow him.
ORESTES.
Alas, my friend, that God
In anger now withdraws his powerful aid,
And frowns upon us, as thy cruel fate
Too plainly shows; a terrible example!
But say, within the rock didst thou conceal
The urn, which to Mycenæ, horrid seat
Of murder, by the gods command, we bear;
That urn which holds the ashes of my foe,
Of Plisthenes; with that we must deceive
The tyrant.
PYLADES.
I have done it.
ORESTES.
Gracious heaven!
When shall we reap the fruits of our obedience?
When will the wished-for day of vengeance come?
Shall I again behold my native soil,
The dear, the dreadful place where first I saw
The light of day? Where, shall I find my sister,
The pride, the glory, of admiring Greece;
That generous maid, whom all unite to praise,
But none will dare to succor? She preserved
My life; and, worthy of her noble father,
Hath never bent beneath the oppressive hand
Of power, but braved the fury of the storm.
How many kings, how many heroes, fought
For Menelaus! Agamemnon dies,
And Greece forgets him, whilst his hapless son,
Deserted, wanders o’er a faithless world,
To seek some blest asylum for repose.
Alas, without thy friendship I had been
The most distressed, most abject of mankind:
But heaven, in pity to my woes, hath sent
My Pylades; it would not let me perish,
But gave me to subdue my hated foe,
And half avenge my father: say, my friend,
What path will lead us to the tyrant’s court?
PYLADES.
Behold that palace, and the towering height
Of yon proud temple, the dark grove overgrown
With cypress, and the tomb, rich images
Of mournful splendor all: and see! this way
Advancing, comes a venerable sage,
Of mildest aspect, and whose years, no doubt,
Have long experience of calamity;
His soul will melt at thy disastrous fate.
ORESTES.
Is every mortal born to suffer? hark!
He groans, my Pylades.
SCENE II.
ORESTES, PYLADES, PAMMENES.
PYLADES.
Whoe’er thou art,
Stop, and inform us: we are strangers here.
Two poor unhappy friends, long time the sport
Of winds and waves, now on this unknown shore
Cast helpless, canst thou tell us if this place
Will be or fatal to us, or propitious?
PAMMENES.
I am a simple, plain old man, and here
Worship the gods, adore their justice, live
In humble fear of them, and exercise
The sacred rights of hospitality;
Ye both are welcome to my little cottage,
There to despise with me the pride of kings,
Their pomp and riches; come, my friends, for such
I ever hold the wretched.
ORESTES.
Generous stranger,
May gracious heaven inspire us with the means
To recompense thy goodness! but inform us
What place is this; who is your king?
PAMMENES.
Ægisthus:
I am his subject.
ORESTES.
Terrors, crimes, and vengeance!
O heaven, Ægisthus!
PYLADES.
Soft: do not betray us;
Be careful.
ORESTES.
Gods, Ægisthus! he who murdered —
PAMMENES.
The same.
ORESTES.
And Clytemnæstra, lives she still
After that fatal blow.
PAMMENES.
She reigns with him;
The rest is known too well.
ORESTES.
That tomb before us,
And yonder palace —
PAMMENES.
Is inhabited
Now by Ægisthus; built, I well remember,
By worthier hands, and for a better use.
The tomb thou seest, forgive me if I weep
At the remembrance, is the tomb of him
I loved, my lord, my king — of Agamemnon.
ORESTES.
O ‘tis too much! I sink beneath it.
PYLADES.
Hide
Thy tears, my friend.
[To Orestes, who turns away from him.
PAMMENES.
You seem much moved, and fain
Would stop the tide of grief: O give it way,
Indulge thy sorrows, and lament the son
Of gods, the noble conqueror of Troy;
Whilst they insult his sacred memory here,
Strangers shall weep the fate of Agamemnon.
ORESTES.
A stranger as I am, I cannot look
With cold indifference on the noble race
Of Atreus, ‘tis a Grecian’s duty ever
To weep the fate of heroes, and I ought —
But doth Electra live in Argos still?
PAMMENES.
She doth, she’s here.
ORESTES.
I run, I fly to meet her.
PYLADES.
Ha! whither wouldst thou go! What! brave the gods
Hazard thy precious life! forbear, my lord.
[To Pammenes.
O, sir, conduct us to the neighboring temple,
There will we lay our gifts before the altar
In humble duty, and adore that God
Who ruled the waves, and saved us from destruction.
ORESTES.
Wilt thou conduct us to the sacred tomb
Where lie the ashes of a murdered hero?
There must I offer to his honored shade
A secret sacrifice.
PAMMENES.
O heavenly justice,
Thou sacrifice to him! amidst his foes!
O noble youth! my master had a son,
Who, in Electra’s arms — but I forbear,
Ægisthus comes: away; I’ll follow you.
ORESTES.
Ægisthus! ha!
PYLADES.
We must avoid his presence.
SCENE III.
ÆGISTHUS, CLYTEMNÆSTRA, PAMMENES.
ÆGISTHUS.
[To Pammenes
Who are those strangers? one of them methought
Seemed, by his stately port and fair demeanor,
Of noble birth, a gloom of melancholy
Hangs on his brow: he struck me as he passed:
Is he our subject? knowest thou whence he came?
PAMMENES.
I only know they are unfortunate;
Driven by the tempest on those rocks, they came
For shelter here; as strangers I relieved them;
It was my duty: if they tell me truth,
Greece is their country.
ÆGISTHUS.
Thou shalt answer for them
On peril of thy life.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
Alas! my lord,
Can these poor objects raise suspicion?
ÆGISTHUS.
Yes:
The people murmur; everything alarms me.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
Such for these fifteen years hath been our fate,
To fear, and to be feared; the bitter poison
To all my happiness.
ÆGISTHUS.
Away, Pammenes;
Let me know who and whence they are; why thus
They come so near the palace; from what port
Their vessel sailed, and wherefore on the seas
Where I command: away, and bring me word.
SCENE IV.
ÆGISTHUS, CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
ÆGISTHUS.
Well, madam, to remove thy idle fears,
The interpreters of heaven it seems at length
Have been consulted; but in vain: their silence
Doubles thy grief, and heightens thy despair;
For to thyself, thy restless spirit ne’er
Will know repose; thou tremblest at the thought
Of thy son’s death, yet fearest his dangerous life:
Consult no more thy doubtful oracles,
And hesitating priests, that brood in secret
O’er the dark bosom of futurity;
But hear Ægisthus, he shall give thee peace,
And satisfy thy soul: this hand determines,
This tongue pronounces Clytemnæstra’s fate:
If thou wouldst live and reign, confide in me,
And me alone, and let me hear no more
Of your unworthy son; but for Electra,
She’s to be feared, and we must think of her:
Perhaps her marriage with my Plisthenes
Might stop the mouth of faction, and appease
The discontented people: thou wouldst wish
To see the deadly hatred, that so long
Hath raged between us, softened into peace;
To see our interests and our hearts united:
Let it be so. Go thou, and talk with her;
But take good heed her pride refuses not
The proffered boon, that were an insult soon
She might repent of; but I hope with you,
That slavery hath bowed down her haughty spirit,
That this unhoped for, unexpected change
From poverty and chains to rank and splendor,
Joined to a mother’s kind authority,
And above all, to Ambition, will persuade her
To seize the golden minutes, and be wise:
But if she spurns the happiness that courts her,
Her insolence shall meet its due reward.
Your foolish fondness, and her father’s name,
Have fed her pride too long; but let her dread,
If she submits not, a severer fate,
Chains heavier far, and endless banishment.
SCENE V.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA, ELECTRA.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
Come near, my daughter, and with milder looks
Behold thy mother: I have mourned in secret,
And wept with thee thy hard and cruel bondage,
Though not unmerited; for sure thy hatred
Was most unjust, Electra: as a queen,
I was offended; as a mother, grieved;
But I have gained your pardon, and your rights
Are all restored.
ELECTRA.
O madam, at your feet —
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
But I would still do more.
ELECTRA.
What more?
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
Support
Your race, restore the honored name of Pelops,
And re-unite his long-divided children.
ELECTRA.
Ha! talkest thou of Orestes? speak, go on.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
I speak of thee, and hope at last Electra
Will be Electra’s friend: I know thy soul
Aspires to empire, be thyself again,
And let thy hopes transport thee to the throne
Of Argos and Mycenæ; rise from chains
And ignominious slavery to the throne
Of thy great ancestors: Ægisthus yields
To my entreaties, as a daughter yet
He would embrace thee, to his Plisthenes
Would join Electra; every hour the youth
From Epidaurus is expected here;
When he returns he weds you: look, my daughter,
Towards the bright prospect of thy future glory,
And bury all the past in deep oblivion.
ELECTRA.
Can I forget the past, or look with joy
On that which is to come? O cruel fate,
This is the worst indignity that e’er
Electra bore: remember whence I sprang,
Remember, I am Agamemnon’s daughter,
And wouldst thou bind me to his murderer’s son?
Give me my chains again, oppress my soul
With all the horrors of base servitude;
All that the tyrant e’er inflicted on me,
Shame and reproach suit with my sad condition;
I have supported them, and looked on death
Without a fear: a thousand times Ægisthus
Hath threatened me with death, but this is worse;
Thou art more cruel far to ask my vows,
My love, my honor; but I see your aim,
I know your purpose; poor Orestes slain,
His murderer trembles at a sister’s claim,
And dreads my title to a father’s throne:
The tyrant wants my hand to second him,
To seal his poor precarious rights with mine,
And make me an accomplice in his guilt:
O, if I have a right Ægisthus fears,
Let him erase my title in my blood,
And tear it from me: if another arm
Be needful to his purpose, lend him thine;
Strike here, and join Electra to her brother;
Strike here, and I shall know ‘tis Clytemnæstra.
CLYTEMNÆSTRA.
It is too much: ungrateful as thou art,
I pitied thee; but all my hopes are past:
What have I done, what would I do, to bend
Thy stubborn heart? tears, menaces, reproaches,
And love and tenderness, the throne itself,
Which but for me thou never couldst have hoped,
Prayers, punishment, and pardon, naught availed,
And now I yield thee to thy fate: farewell!
Thou sayest that thou shalt know me for thy mother,
For Clytemnæstra, by my cruelty:
I am thy mother, and I am thy queen,
Remember that; to Agamemnon’s race
Naught do I owe but hatred and revenge;
I will not warm a serpent in my breast
To sting me: henceforth storm, complain, and weep,
I shall not heed the clamors of a slave:
I loved thee once, with grief I own I loved thee;
But from this hour remember Clytemnæstra
Is not thy mother, but Ægisthus’ wife;
The bonds are broken that united us,
Electra broke them; nature hath disclaimed,
And I abjure them.
SCENE VI.
ELECTRA.
[Alone.
Gracious heaven! is this
A mother’s voice? O day the bitterest sure
That ever rose since my dear father’s death!
I fear I said too much, but my full heart,
Spite of myself, would pour its venom forth:
She told me my Orestes was no more;
Could I bear that? O if a cruel mother
Has robbed me of my best, my dearest treasure,
Why should I court my worst of foes, why fawn
And cringe to her, to live a vile dependant
On her precarious bounties; to lift up
These withered hands to unrelenting heaven,
To see my father’s bed and throne usurped
By this base spoiler, this inhuman tyrant,
Who robbed me of a mother’s heart, and now
Hath taken Orestes from me?
SCENE VII.
ELECTRA, IPHISA.
IPHISA.
O Electra,
Complain no more.
ELECTRA.
Why not?
IPHISA.
Partake my joy.
ELECTRA.
Joy is a stranger to this heart, Iphisa,
And ever shall be.
IPHISA.
Still there is hope.
ELECTRA.
O no,
Still must we weep: for if I may believe
A mother, our dear brother, our Orestes,
Is dead.
IPHISA.
And if I may believe these eyes,
He lives, he’s here, Electra.
ELECTRA.
Can it be?
Good heaven! O do not trifle with a heart
Like mine: Iphisa, didst thou say Orestes?
IPHISA.
I did.
ELECTRA.
Thou wouldst not with a flattering dream
Deceive me, my Iphisa — but, go on,
For hope and fear distract me.
IPHISA.
O my sister,
Two strangers, cast by some benignant God
On these unhappy coasts, are just arrived,
And hither, by the care of good Pammenes,
Conducted; one of them —
ELECTRA.
I faint: die —
Well, one of them —
IPHISA.
I saw the noble youth:
O what a lustre sparkled in his eye!
His air, his mien, his every gesture bore
The perfect semblage of a demi-god;
Even as they paint the illustrious Grecian chief,
The conqueror of Troy; such majesty
And sweet deportment ne’er did I behold;
But with Pammenes he retired, and hid
His beauteous form from my desiring eyes:
Struck with the charming image, and amazed,
I ran to seek thee here, beneath the shade
Of this dark grove, to tell the pleasing tale:
But mark what followed — on the sacred tomb,
Where we so oft have mingled our sad tears,
I saw fresh garlands, saw the votive wreath,
The water sprinkled over it, and the hair
Doubtless of those whom I so late had seen,
The illustrious strangers: near to these was laid,
What most confirmed my hopes, a glittering sword,
That spoke methought the day of vengeance near:
Who but a son, a brother, and a hero,
Raised by the gods to save his falling country,
Would dare to brave the tyrant thus? ‘Tis he,
Electra, heaven hath sent him to our aid,
The lightning glares upon us, and the thunder
Will soon be heard.
ELECTRA.
I must believe Iphisa,
And hope the best; but is it not a snare
Laid by the tyrant? Come: we’ll know the truth,
Let us away — I must be satisfied.
IPHISA.
We must not search him in the dark retreat
Where he is hid. Pammenes says, his life
Would answer for it.
ELECTRA.
Ha! what dost thou say?
Alas! we are deceived, betrayed, Iphisa,
By cruel heaven: thus, after fifteen years,
Restored, Orestes would have run with joy
To the dear arms that saved him, would have cheered
Electra’s mournful heart, he ne’er had fled
From thee, Iphisa: O that sword thou sawest,
Which raised thy sanguine hope, alarms my fears;
A cruel mother would be well informed,
And in her eyes I read the barbarous joy
She felt within: O dart one ray of hope,
Ye vengeful gods, on my despairing soul!
Will not Pammenes yield to my entreaties?
He will; he must: away, I’ll speak to him.
IPHISA.
Do not, Electra; think what cruel eyes
Watch o’er our steps, and mark our every action.
If he is come, we shall discover him
By our fond zeal, and hazard his sweet life:
If we’re deceived, our search but irritates
The tyrant, and endangers good Pammenes;
But let us pay our duty at the tomb,
There we at least may weep without offence.
Who knows, Electra, but the noble stranger
May meet us in that blest asylum; there
That heaven, whose goodness thy impatient rage
Hath called in question, may yet hear my vows,
And give him to our wishes and our tears:
Let us be gone.
ELECTRA.
Thou hast revived my hopes:
But O, I die with grief, if thou deceivest me!
End of the Second Act.