To Atreus' firstborn son, thy sire and mine.
Iphigenia.
Thou sayest it: Oh, give me some proof, some sign!
Old things of home are remembered between the two, and at length Iphigenia is convinced.
Iphigenia. (falling into his arms)
Beloved! Oh, no other, for indeed
Beloved art thou! In mine arms at last,
Orestes far away.
Then follows a scene in which Iphigenia gives herself up to one emotion after another, and when Orestes reminds her that they are not yet safe, she suggests one wild plan after another.
Iphigenia.
And now, what end cometh?
Shall Chance yet comfort me,
Finding a way for thee
Back from the Friendless Strand,
Back from the place of death—
Ere yet the slayers come
And thy blood sink in the sand—
Home unto Argos, home?
Hard heart so swift to slay
Is there to life no way?—
No ship!—And how by land?—
A rush of feet
Out to the waste alone.
Nay: 'twere to meet
Death, amid tribes unknown
And trackless ways of the waste—
Surely the sea were best.
Back by the narrow bar
To the Dark Blue Gate!—
Ah God, too far, too far!—
Desolate! Desolate!
What god or man, what unimagined flame,
Can cleave this road where no road is, and bring
To us last wrecks of Agamemnon's name
Peace from long suffering?
But Iphigenia has not yet learnt all, and at length Orestes tells her why he is there. He repeats the words of Apollo: