The tradition of the meeting of Iphigenia with her father in the lower
regions, after his death, when the latter was ignorant of the {231} infamy
of her mother, and the cause of her father's death, is thus beautifully
described:--
"_Iphigenia._ Father! I now may lean upon your breast,
And you with unreverted eyes will grasp
Iphigenia's hand.
We are not shades
Surely! for yours throbs yet,
And did my blood
Win Troy for Greece?
Ah! 'twas ill done to shrink;
But the sword gleamed so sharp; and the good priest
Trembled, and Pallas frowned above, severe.
_Agamemnon._ Daughter!
_Iphig._ Beloved father! is the blade
Again to pierce a bosom now unfit
For sacrifice? no blood is in its veins,
No God requires it here; here are no wrongs
To vindicate, no realms to overthrow.
You standing as at Aulis in the fane,
With face averted, holding (as before)
My hand; but yours burns not, as then it burned.
This alone shews me we are with the blest,
Nor subject to the sufferings we have borne.
I will win back past kindness.
Tell me then,
Tell how my mother fares who loved me so,
And grieved, as 'twere for you, to see me part.
Frown not, but pardon me for tarrying
Amid too idle words, nor asking how
She praised us both (which most?) for what we did.
_Aga._ Ye Gods who govern here! do human pangs
Reach the pure soul thus far below? do tears
Spring in these meadows?
_Iphig._ No, sweet father, no.
I could have answered that; why ask the Gods?
_Aga._ Iphigenia! O my child! the Earth
Has gendered crimes unheard of heretofore,
And nature may have changed in her last depths,
Together with the Gods and all their laws.
_Iphig._ Father! we must not let you here condemn;
Not, were the day less joyful: recollect
We have no wicked here; no king to judge.
Poseidon, we have heard, with bitter rage
Lashes his foaming steeds against the skies,
And, laughing with loud yell at winged fire,
Innoxious to his fields and palaces
Affrights the eagle from the sceptred hand;
While Pluto, gentlest brother of the three
And happiest in obedience, views sedate
His tranquil realm, nor envies their's above.
No change have we, not even day for night,
Nor spring for summer,
All things are serene,
Serene too be your spirit! none on earth
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Ever was half so kindly in his house,
And so compliant, even to a child.
Never was snatched your robe away from me,
Though going to the council. The blind man
Knew his good king was leading him in doors,
Before he heard the voice that marshal'd Greece.
Therefore all praised you.
Proudest men themselves
In others praise humility, and most
Admire it in the sceptre and the sword.
What then can make you speak thus rapidly
And briefly? in your step thus hesitate?
Are you afraid to meet among the good
Incestuous Helen here?
_Aga._ Oh! Gods of Hell!
_Iphig._ She hath not past the river.
We may walk
With our hands linked, nor feel our house's shame.
_Aga._ Never may'st thou, Iphigenia! feel it!
Aulis had no sharp sword, thou would'st exclaim,
Greece no avenger--I, her chief so late,
Through Erebus, through Elysium, writhe beneath it.
_Iphig._ Come, I have better diadems than those
Of Argos and Mycenai--come away,
And I will weave them for you on the bank.
You will not look so pale when you have walked
A little in the grove, and have told all
Those sweet fond words the widow sent her child.
_Aga._ Oh Earth! I suffered less upon thy shores!
(_Aside_)
The bath that bubbled with my blood, the blows
That spilt it (O worse torture) must she know?
Ah! the first woman coming from Mycenai
Will pine to pour this poison in her ear,
Taunting sad Charon for his slow advance.
Iphigenia!
_Iphig._ Why thus turn away?
Calling me with such fondness! I am here,
Father! and where you are, will ever be.
_Aga._ Thou art my child--yes, yes, thou art my child.
All was not once what all now is! Come on,
Idol of love and truth! my child! my child!
(_Alone_)
Fell woman! ever false! false was thy last
Denunciation, as thy bridal vow;
And yet even that found faith with me! the dirk
Which severed flesh from flesh, where this hand rests,
Severs not, as thou boasted'st in thy scoffs,
Iphigenia's love from Agamemnon:
The wife's a spark may light, a straw consume,
The daughter's not her hearts whole fount hath quenched,
'Tis worthy of the Gods, and lives for ever.
_Iphig._ What spake my father to the Gods above?
Unworthy am I then to join in prayer?
If, on the last, or any day before,
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Of my brief course on earth, I did amiss,
Say it at once, and let me be unblest;
But, O my faultless father! why should you?
And shun so my embraces?
Am I wild
And wandering in my fondness?
We are shades!!
Groan not thus deeply; blight not thus the season
Of full orbed gladness! Shades we are indeed,
But mingled, let us feel it, with the blest.
I knew it, but forgot it suddenly,
Altho' I felt it all at your approach.
Look on me; smile with me at my illusion--
You are so like what you have ever been
(Except in sorrow!) I might well forget
I could not win you as I used to do.
It was the first embrace since my descent
I ever aimed at: those who love me live,
Save one, who loves me most, and now would chide me.
_Aga._ We want not O Iphigenia, we
Want not embrace, nor kiss that cools the heart
With purity, nor words that more and more
Teach what we know, from those we know, and sink
Often most deeply where they fall most light.
Time was when for the faintest breath of thine
Kingdom and life were little.
_Iphig._ Value them
As little now.
_Aga._ Were life and kingdom all!
_Iphig._ Ah! by our death many are sad who loved us.
They will be happy too.
Cheer! king of men!
Cheer! there are voices, songs--Cheer! arms advance.
_Aga._ Come to me, soul of peace! these, these alone,
These are not false embraces."