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IPHIGENIA
0 thou most dear (for thou art he), most dear
Acknowledged, thee, Orestes, do I hold,
From Argos, from thy country distant far?
ORESTES
And hold I thee, my sister, long deem'd dead?
Grief mix'd with joy, and tears, not taught by woe
To rise, stand melting in thy eyes and mine.
IPHIGENIA
Thee yet an infant in thy nurse's arms
1 left, a babe I left thee in the house.
Thou art more happy, O my soul, than speech
Knows to express. What shall I say? 'tis all
Surpassing wonder and the power of words.
ORESTES
May we together from this hour be bless'd!
IPHIGENIA
An unexpected pleasure, 0 my friends,
Have I received; yet fear I from my hands
Lest to the air it fly. 0 sacred hearths
Raised by the Cyclops! O my country, loved
Mycenae! Now that thou didst give me birth,
I thank thee; now I thank thee, that my youth
Thou trainedst, since my brother thou has train'd,
A beam of light, the glory of his house.
ORESTES
We in our race are happy; but our life,
My sister, by misfortunes is unhappy.
IPHIGENIA
I was, I know, unhappy, when the sword
My father, frantic, pointed at my neck.
ORESTES
Ah me! methinks ev'n now I see thee there.
IPHIGENIA
When to Achilles, brother, not a bride,
I to the sacrifice by guile was led,
And tears and groans the altar compass'd round.