Iphigenia Mother, why so silent, your eyes wet with tears?
Clytemnestra I have reason, woe is me! to be sad at heart.
Iphigenia Stop; do not make me a coward; here in one thing obey me.
Clytemnestra Tell me, my child, for at my hands you shall never suffer injury.
Iphigenia Cut not off the tresses of your hair for me, nor clothe yourself in sable garb.
Clytemnestra Why, my child, what is it you have said? When I have lost you?
Iphigenia You will not lose me; I am saved and you renowned, as far as I can make you.
Clytemnestra How so? Must I not mourn your death?
Iphigenia By no means, for I shall have no tomb heaped over me.
Clytemnestra What then? It is death, not the tomb, that is rightly mourned.
Iphigenia The altar of the goddess, Zeus’s daughter, will be my tomb.
Clytemnestra Well, my child, I will let you persuade me, for you speak well.
Iphigenia Yes, as one who prospers and does Hellas service.
Clytemnestra What message shall I carry to your sisters?
Iphigenia Do not put mourning raiment on them either.
Clytemnestra But is there no fond message I can give the maidens from you?
Iphigenia Yes, my farewell words; and promise me to rear Orestes to manhood.
Clytemnestra Press him to your bosom; it is your last look.
Iphigenia O you that are most dear to me! you have helped your friends as you had means.
Clytemnestra Is there anything I can do in Argos to please you?
Iphigenia Yes, do not hate my father, your own husband.
Clytemnestra Fearful are the trials through which he has to go because of you.
Iphigenia It was against his will he ruined me for the sake of Hellas.
Clytemnestra Ah! but he employed base treachery, unworthy of Atreus.
Iphigenia Who will escort me from here, before my hair is torn?
Clytemnestra I will go with you—
Iphigenia No, not you; that is not well said.
Clytemnestra Clinging to your robes.
Iphigenia Be persuaded by me, mother, stay here; for this is the better way both for me and you; but let one of these attendants of my father conduct me to the meadow of Artemis, where I shall be sacrificed.
Clytemnestra Are you gone from me, my child?
Iphigenia Yes, and with no chance of ever returning.
Clytemnestra Leaving your mother?
Iphigenia Yes, as you see, undeservedly.
Clytemnestra Hold! do not leave me!
Iphigenia I cannot let you shed a tear. May it be yours, maidens, to hymn in joyous strains Artemis, the child of Zeus, for my hard lot; and let the order for a solemn hush go forth to the Danaids. Begin the sacrifice with the baskets, let the fire blaze for the purifying meal of sprinkling, and my father pace from left to right about the altar; for I come to bestow on Hellas safety crowned with victory.
Iphigenia
Lead me away, the destroyer of Ilium’s town and the Phrygians; give me wreaths to cast about me; bring them here; here are my tresses to crown; bring lustral water too. Dance to Artemis, queen Artemis the blest, around her shrine and altar; for by the blood of my sacrifice I will blot out the oracle, if it must be. O mother, lady revered! I will not give you my tears; for at the holy rites it is not fitting. Sing with me, maidens, sing the praises of Artemis, whose temple faces Chalcis, where angry spearmen madly chafe, here in the narrow havens of Aulis, because of me. O Pelasgia, land of my birth, and Mycenae, my home!
Chorus Is it on Perseus’ citadel you call, that town Cyclopean workmen built?
Iphigenia To be a light to Hellas did you rear me, and so I do not say No to death.
Chorus You are right; no fear that fame will ever desert you!
Iphigenia Hail to you, bright lamp of day and light of Zeus! A different life, a different lot is henceforth mine. Farewell I bid you, light beloved!
Chorus Behold the maiden on her way, the destroyer of Ilium’s town and the Phrygians, with garlands twined about her head, and drops of lustral water on her, soon to be sprinkled with her gushing blood the altar of a murderous goddess, when her shapely neck is severed. For you fair streams of a father’s pouring and lustral waters are in store, for you Achaea’s army is waiting, eager to reach the citadel of Ilium. But let us celebrate Artemis, the daughter of Zeus, queen among the gods, as if upon some happy chance. O lady revered, delighting in human sacrifice, send on its way to Phrygia’s land the army of the Hellenes, to Troy’s abodes of guile, and grant that Agamemnon may wreathe his head with deathless fame, a crown of fairest glory for the spearmen of Hellas.
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