ascribe to the goddess their sorry behavior. For I believe that no god is evil. Chorus Dark straits of the sea, dark, where the gadfly flying from Argos crossed over the inhospitable wave . . . taking the Asian land in exchange for Europe . Whoever are the ones who left the lovely waters of Eurotas, green with reeds, or the holy streams of Dirce, to come here, to come to the unsociable land, where, for the divine maiden, the blood of mortals stains the altars and columned temples? Chorus Did they sail the pine-wood oars with double beat of surge, over the waves of the sea, a chariot of a ship in breezes that move the linen sails, to increase the contest of wealth for their halls? For hope is sweet, and insatiable in mortals, to their hurt, for those who bear away the weight of wealth, wandering over the wave and crossing to barbarian cities, with one expectation. But thought of wealth comes at the wrong time for some, while for others it comes moderately. Chorus The rocks that rush together, the sleepless shores of Phineus—how did they cross them, running along the salty coast on Amphitrite’s surge, where the fifty daughters of Nereus . . . the circular choruses sing, with wind in the sails, the guiding rudder creaking under the stern, with southern breezes or by the blasts of the west wind, to the land of many birds, the white strand, Achilles’ lovely race-course, over the Black Sea ? Chorus Would that, by my mistress’ prayers, Helen, Leda’s dear child, might happen to leave Troy and come here, where she might die, crowned over her hair by the bloody water, her throat cut by the hands of my mistress, and so pay her requital. But what a sweet message I should receive, if a sailor came from Hellas , to put an end to my wretched slavery! For may I even in dreams be at home and in my ancestral city, the enjoyment of pleasant sleep, a grace we have in common with prosperity. Chorus Leader But here come the two youths, with tightly bound hands, the new sacrifice for the goddess; silence, my friends. These first-fruits of Hellas are indeed approaching the temple; the herdman did not deliver a false message. Lady Artemis, if this city carries out the rites in a way pleasing to you, accept the victims, which the custom among us declares to be unholy. Iphigenia Enough; first, it will be my care to perform well the rites of the goddess. Unbind the strangers’ hands, so that, as holy victims, they may no longer be in chains. Then go into the temple and make ready what is necessary and customary at the present time. (Turning to the prisoners.) Ah! Who was your mother, who gave you birth, and your father? And your sister, if you happen to have one . . . such two youths as she has lost, and will be without a brother! Who knows where such fortunes will arrive? For all the gods’ affairs creep on in darkness, and no one knows evil . . . fate leads us on towards what we cannot know. Unhappy strangers, where have you come from? For you have sailed a long time to reach this land, and you will be away from your home a long time, in the world below. Orestes Why do you lament these things, and mourn for the evils about to come upon us, lady, whoever you are? I do not think the one who is about to die wise, if he wishes to conquer the fear of death by wailing, nor the one who laments when Hades is near and there is no hope of safety; for so he puts together two ills out of one, incurring a charge of folly and dying all the same; we must let fate alone.