Or heed the trace of their career on earth.
We ever hasten on to chase their shades,
Which godlike, at a distance far remote,
On golden clouds reclin’d, the mountains crown.
The man I prize not who esteems himself
Just as the people’s breath may chance to raise him.
But thou, Orestes, to the gods give thanks,
That they have done so much through thee already.
Orestes.
When they ordain a man to
noble deeds,
To shield from dire calamity
his friends,
Extend his empire, or protect
its bounds,
Or put to flight its ancient
enemies,
Let him be grateful!
For to him a god
Imparts the first, the sweetest
joy of life.
Me have they doom’d
to be a slaughterer,
To be an honour’d mother’s
murderer,
And shamefully a deed of shame
avenging.
Me through their own decree
they have o’erwhelm’d.
Trust me, the race of Tantalus
is doom’d;
Nor may his last descendant
leave the earth,
Or crown’d with honour
or unstain’d by crime.
Pylades.
The gods avenge not on the son the deeds
Done by the father. Each, or good or bad,
Of his own actions reaps the due reward.
The parents’ blessing, not their curse, descends.
Orestes.
Methinks their blessing did not lead us here.
Pylades.
It was at least the mighty gods’ decree.
Orestes.
Then is it their decree which doth destroy us.
Pylades.
Perform what they command, and wait the event.
Do thou Apollo’s sister bear from hence,
That they at Delphi may united dwell,
Rever’d and honour’d by a noble race:
Thee, for this deed, the heav’nly pair will view
With gracious eye, and from the hateful grasp
Of the infernal Powers will rescue thee.
E’en now none dares intrude within this grove.
Orestes.
So shall I die at least a peaceful death.
Pylades.
Far other are my thoughts, and not unskill’d
Have I the future and the past combin’d
In quiet meditation. Long, perchance,
Hath ripen’d in the counsel of the gods
The great event. Diana wish d to leave
This savage region foul with human blood.
We were selected for the high emprize;
To us it is assign’d, and strangely thus
We are conducted to the threshold here.
Orestes.
My friend, with wondrous skill thou link’st
thy wish
With the predestin’d purpose of the gods.
Pylades.
Of what avail is prudence, if it fail
Heedful to mark the purposes of Heaven?
A noble man, who much hath sinn’d, some god
Doth summon to a dangerous enterprize,
Which to achieve appears impossible.
The hero conquers, and atoning serves
Mortals and gods, who thenceforth honour him.