Iphigenia at Aulis (1211-1320)

If I had the eloquence of Orpheus, my father, to move the rocks by chanted spells to follow me, or to charm by speaking anyone I wished, I would have resorted to it. But as it is, I’ll bring my tears—the only art I know;

for that I might attempt. And about your knees, as a suppliant, I twine my limbs—these limbs your wife here bore. Do not destroy me before my time, for it is sweet to look upon the light, and do not force me to visit scenes below.

I was the first to call you father, you the first to call me child; I was the first to sit upon your knee and give and take the fond caress. And this was what you would saythen: Shall I see you, my child, living a happy prosperous life

in a husband’s home one day, in a manner worthy of myself? And I in my turn would ask, as I hung about your beard, where I now am clinging, What then will I do for you? Shall I be giving you a glad reception in my halls, father,

in your old age, repaying all your anxious care in rearing me?

I remember all we said, it is you who have forgotten and now would take my life. By Pelops, I entreat you spare me, by your father Atreus and my mother here, who suffers now a second time the pangs

she felt before when bearing me! What have I to do with the marriage of Paris and Helen? Why is his coming to prove my ruin, father? Look upon me; bestow one glance, one kiss, that this at least I may carry to my death

as a memorial of you, though you do not heed my pleading.

holding up the baby Orestes. Feeble ally though you are, brother, to your loved ones, yet add your tears to mine and entreat our father for your sister’s life; even in babies there is a natural sense of evil.

O father, see this speechless supplication made to you; pity me; have mercy on my tender years! Yes, by your beard we two fond hearts implore your pity, the one a baby, a full-grown maid the other. By summing all my pleas in one, I will prevail in what I say:

to gaze upon the light is man’s most cherished gift; that life below is nothingness, and whoever longs for death is mad. Better live a life of woe than die a death of glory!

Ah, wretched Helen! Great is the struggle that has come sons to the of Atreus and their children, thanks to you and those marriages of yours.

While loving my own children, I yet understand what should move my pity and what should not; I would be a madman otherwise. It is terrible for me to bring myself to this, nor is it less terrible to refuse, daughter; for I must do this.[*] You see the vastness of that naval army,

and the numbers of bronze-clad warriors from Hellas, who can neither make their way to Ilium’s towers nor raze the far-famed citadel of Troy, unless I offer you according to the word of Calchas the seer. [*]Some mad desire possesses the army of Hellas

to sail at once to the land of the barbarians, and put a stop to the rape of wives from Hellas, and they will slay my daughter in Argos as well as you and me, if I disregard the goddess’s commands. It is not Menelaus who has enslaved me to him, child,

nor have I followed his wish; no, it is Hellas, for whom I must sacrifice you whether I will or not; to this necessity I bow my head; for her freedom must be preserved, as far as any help of yours daughter, or mine can go; or they, who are the sons of Hellas, must be

pillaged of their wives by barbarian robbery. Exit Agamemnon.