Aeschylus, Agamemnon. The Sacrifice of Iphigenia.

(Oresteia by Aeschylus, translated with notes by Peter Meineck, and introduction by Helene P. Foley. Hackett: Indianapolis & Cambridge, MA, 2007. Performed by permission of the publisher.)

[Strophe 1] I can speak of the omen given to those mighty men before they took ship, divine Persuasion breathes through my song, the strength that grows with life. I can tell how the twin-throned power of the Greeks joint rulers of the youth of Hellas, received a sign from the furious eagles and hurled against Troy the spear of war! The kings of the birds for the kings of the ships, one black, the other white-tailed, appeared on the lucky spear-arm side of the palace. They perched there clutching a pregnant hare who never had the chance for one last run, and in full view feasted on her unborn young. Cry, cry the song of sorrow, but let the good prevail. [Antistrophe 1] The armys trusted prophet saw how the two warrior sons of Atreus, the commanders of the fleet, resembled the hare-devouring eagles. He made this prophecy: One day this invading army will seize Priams city, but not before its herds had bled away beneath the towers, doomed to Destinys death. But let no envious god cast a cloud of darkness over this mighty force that will harness Troy. Beware, for Artemis, pure goddess, feels pity. She resents her fathers winged hounds for the sacrifice of the trembling creature, the parents own young. She hates the eagles feast. Cry, cry the song of sorrow, but let the good prevail. [Epode] Beautiful Artemis kind even to the fiercest lions cub, she takes delight in the suckling young of all wild beasts that roam the fields. She begs to fulfill these signs, for the omen I saw was both good and evil. I call on Apollo, god of healing: Calm her, let her not send savage storms to keep the Greeks from sailing, demanding another sacrifice,

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Aeschylus, Agamemnon. The Sacrifice of Iphigenia.

(Oresteia by Aeschylus, translated with notes by Peter Meineck, and introduction by Helene P. Foley. Hackett: Indianapolis & Cambridge, MA, 2007. Performed by permission of the publisher.)

unspeakable, uneatable, crafting ingrained, inborn strife. Fearless of any man it waits, this recurring, persistent terror, the covert keeper of the House, unforgiving child-avenging Rage! This was the prophecy shrieked by Calchas to the royal House, signs of great good and portents of doom, and we sing the same bittersweet harmony. Cry, cry the song of sorrow, but let the good prevail. [Antistrophe 3] And on that day the First Sea Lord of the Greek ships did not blame any prophets, he swayed with the winds of fortune. The Greek force was unable to sail, and they started to suffer and starve, sitting in their ships, off the coast of Chalcis, rocked back and forth, by the swelling tides of Aulis. [Strophe 4] Bitter winds blew down from the Strymon, bringing hunger and delay to that wretched harbor, driving the men to wander on the edge of insanity, wearing thin the cables and rotting the ships. Time, crawling slowly by, wore them down the flower of Greek manhood began to wither and waste away. Then the prophet cried out, in the name of Artemis, proclaiming a remedy to sooth the storm, and the sons of Arteus beat the ground with their scepters, unable to hold back a flood of tears. [Antistrophe 4] Then Agamemnon, the eldest, spoke: An unbearable fate will fall on me if I disobey but how can I bear to slaughter my own daughter, the glory of my House?

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Aeschylus, Agamemnon. The Sacrifice of Iphigenia.

(Oresteia by Aeschylus, translated with notes by Peter Meineck, and introduction by Helene P. Foley. Hackett: Indianapolis & Cambridge, MA, 2007. Performed by permission of the publisher.)

How can I stain my hands, the hands of a father with this young girls blood, as it drenches the altar? How can I choose? Both ways are full of evil! Should I desert the fleet and fail my allies? The sacrifice stops the storm, the blood of a virgin must be spilled, rage craves rage, what must be must be. Let it be for the best. [Strophe 5] And as he strapped himself to the yoke of Necessity, his storm-swept psyche veered on an impious course, impure, unholy, unsanctified. At that very moment he changed and his altered mind would dare do anything. Such shameless thoughts make mere men bold, maddening minds and reducing them to ruin. And so he dared to sacrifice his daughter, a first offering to bless the fleet, to fight that woman-revenging war. [Antistrophe 5] Her pleading, her terrified cries of Father! her pure young life, counted for nothing with the chiefs, they were too hungry for war. Her father prayed to the gods, then ordered his men to raise her up over the altar, face down, like some sacrificial goat. She fell at his feet, clasping his robes, begging for mercy with heart-rending cries. He ordered her beautiful mouth to be gagged, to stifle a cry that would curse the House. [Strophe 6] And as the bridle forced her silence, steeped saffron poured to the ground. Her eyes threw a last pitiful glance at her sacrificers, but like a figure in a painting, she could not call to them for help. How often she had sung to these same men as guests in her fathers House, how many times her pure young voice had so lovingly sung, for her father, the sacred song at the third libation.

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Aeschylus, Agamemnon. The Sacrifice of Iphigenia.

(Oresteia by Aeschylus, translated with notes by Peter Meineck, and introduction by Helene P. Foley. Hackett: Indianapolis & Cambridge, MA, 2007. Performed by permission of the publisher.)

[Antistrophe 6] What happened nest, I did not see and I cannot tell, but the prophecies of Calchas are always fulfilled. Justice will tip the scales, to bring learning through suffering. You will know the future when it comes, until then let it be, to know the future is to bring sorrow in advance, it will all come clear in the light of dawn and let all that comes now turn out for the best.

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