Iphigenia at Aulis (883-945)

You know all; her father is about to offer your child to Artemis.

But that marriage—what pretext had it for bringing me from home?

An inducement to you to bring your daughter cheerfully, to wed her to Achilles.

On a deadly errand have you come, my daughter, both you, and I, your mother.

Piteous the lot of both of you, and dreadful Agamemnon’s venture.

Alas, I am undone; my eyes can no longer hold their tears.

If the loss[*] of children is painful, shed your tears.

From where, old man, do you say you had this news?

I had started to carry you a letter referring to the former writing.

Forbidding or combining to urge my bringing the child to her death?

No, forbidding it, for your lord was then in his sober senses.

How comes it then, if you were really bringing me a letter, that you do not now deliver it into my hands?

Menelaus snatched it from me, he who caused this trouble.

Do you hear that, son of Peleus, the Nereid’s child?

I have been listening to the tale of your sufferings, and I do not bear my own lightly.

They will slay my child; they have tricked her with your marriage.

Like you I blame your lord, nor do I view it with mere indifference.

No longer will I let shame[*] prevent my kneeling to you, a mortal to one goddess-born; why do I affect reserve? whose interests should I consult before my child’s? Throwing herself before Achilles. Oh! help me, goddess-born, in my sore distress, and her that was called your bride, in vain, it is true, yet called she was.

For you it was I wreathed her head and led her forth as if to marriage, but now it is to slaughter I am bringing her. On you will come reproach because you did not help her; for though not wedded to her, yet were you the loving husband of my hapless girl in name at any rate. By your beard, your right hand, and mother too I do implore you;

for your name it was that worked my ruin, and you are bound to stand by that. Except your knees I have no altar to fly to; and not a friend stands[*] at my side. You have heard the cruel abandoned scheme of Agamemnon; and I, a woman, have come, as you see, to a camp of lawless sailor-folk, bold in evil’s cause,

though useful when they wish; Now if you boldly stretch forth your arm in my behalf, our safety is assured; but if not, we are lost.