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ACT IV. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 3 (Goetz von Berlichingen, Iphigenia in Tauris, Tarquato Tasso, etc) 
Goethe’s Works, illustrated by the best German artists, 5 vols. (Philadelphia: G. Barrie, 1885). Vol. 3.
Part of: Goethe’s Works, 5 vols.
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When the Powers on high decree
For a feeble child of earth
Dire perplexity and woe,
And his spirit doom to pass
With tumult wild from joy to grief,
And back again from grief to joy,
In fearful alternation;
They in mercy then provide,
In the precincts of his home,
Or upon the distant shore,
That to him may never fail
Ready help in hours of need,
A tranquil, faithful friend.
Oh, bless, ye heavenly powers, our Pylades,
And whatsoever he may undertake!
He is in fight the vigorous arm of youth,
And his the thoughtful eye of age in counsel;
For tranquil is his soul; he guardeth there
Of calm a sacred and exhaustless dower,
And from its depths, in rich supply, outpours
Comfort and counsel for the sore distress’d.
He tore me from my brother, upon whom,
With fond amaze, I gaz’d and gaz’d again;
I could not realize my happiness,
Nor loose him from my arms, and heeded not
The danger’s near approach that threatens us.
To execute their project of escape.
They hasten to the sea, where in a bay
Their comrades in the vessel he conceal’d
Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied
With artful answers, should the monarch send
To urge the sacrifice. Alas! I see
I must consent to follow like a child,
I have not learn’d deception, not the art
To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.
Detested falsehood! it doth not relieve
The breast like words of truth: it comforts not,
But is a torment in the forger’s heart,
And, like an arrow which a god directs.
Flies back and wounds the archer. Through my heart
One fear doth chase another: perhaps with rage,
Again on the unconsecrated shore,
The Furies’ grisly band my brother seize
Perchance they are surpris’d! Methinks I hear
The tread of armed men. A messenger
Is coming from the king, with hasty steps.
How throbs my heart, how troubled is my soul,
Now that I gaze upon the face of one,
Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!
Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!
Impatiently the king and people wait.
I had perform’d my duty and thy will,
Had not an unforeseen impediment
The execution of my purpose thwarted.
What is it that obstructs the king’s commands?
Chance, which from mortals will not brook control.
Possess me with the reason, that with speed
I may inform the king, who hath decreed
The death of both.
The gods have not decreed it.
The elder of these men doth bear the guilt
Of kindred murder; on his steps attend
The dread Erinnys. In the inner fane
They seiz’d upon their prey, polluting thus
The holy sanctuary. I hasten now,
Together with my virgin-train, to bathe
The goddess’ image in the sea, and there
With solemn rites its purity restore.
Let none presume our silent march to follow!
This hindrance to the monarch I’ll announce:
Commence not thou the rite till he permit.
The priestess interferes alone in this.
An incident so strange the king should know.
Here, nor his counsel nor command avails.
Oft are the great consulted out of form.
Do not insist on what I must refuse.
A needful and a just demand refuse not.
I yield, if thou delay not.
I with speed
Will bear these tidings to the camp, and soon
Acquaint thee, priestess, with the king’s reply.
There is a message I would gladly bear him;
’Twould quickly banish all perplexity:
Thou didst not heed thy faithful friend’s advice.
I willingly have done whate’er I could.
E’en now ’tis not too late to change thy purpose.
To do so is, alas, beyond our power.
What thou would’st shun, thou deem’st impossible.
Thy wish doth make thee deem it possible.
Wilt thou so calmly venture everything?
My fate I have committed to the gods.
The gods are wont to save by human means.
By their appointment everything is done.
Believe me, all doth now depend on thee.
The irritated temper of the king
Alone condemns these men to bitter death.
The soldiers from the cruel sacrifice
And bloody service long have been disus’d;
Nay, many, whom their adverse fortunes cast
In foreign regions, there themselves have felt
How godlike to the exil’d wanderer
The friendly countenance of man appears.
Do not deprive us of thy gentle aid!
With case thou canst thy sacred task fulfil;
For nowhere doth benignity, which comes
In human form from heaven, so quickly gain
An empire o’er the heart, as where a race,
Gloomy and savage, full of life and power,
Without external guidance, and oppress’d
With vague forebodings, bear life’s heavy load.
Shake not my spirit, which thou canst not bend
According to thy will.
While there is time,
Nor labor nor persuasion shall be spar’d.
Thy labor but occasions pain to me;
Both are in vain; therefore, I pray, depart.
I summon pain to aid me, ’tis a friend
Who counsels wisely.
Though it shakes my soul.
It doth not banish thence my strong repugnance.
Can then a gentle soul repugnance feel
For benefits bestow’d by one so noble?
Yes, when the donor, for those benefits,
Instead of gratitude, demands myself.
Who no affection feels doth never want
Excuses. To the king I will relate
What hath befallen. Oh, that in thy soul
Thou would’st revolve his noble conduct to thee
Since thy arrival to the present day!
(Alone.) These words at an unseasonable hour
Produce a strong revulsion in my breast;
I am alarm’d!—For as the rushing tide
In rapid currents eddies o’er the rocks
Which lie among the sand upon the shore,
E’en so a stream of joy o’erwhelm’d my soul.
I grasp’d what had appear’d impossible.
It was as though another gentle cloud
Around me lay, to raise me from the earth,
And rock my spirit in the same sweet sleep
Which the kind goddess shed around my brow,
What time her circling arm from danger snatch’d me.
My brother forcibly engross’d my heart;
I listen’d only to his friend’s advice;
My soul rush’d eagerly to rescue them,
And as the mariner with joy surveys
The less’ning breakers of a desert isle,
So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
Reminding me that those whom I forsake
Are also men. Deceit doth now become
Doubly detested. O my soul, be still!
Beginn’st thou now to tremble and to doubt?
Thy lonely shelter on the firm-set earth
Must thou abandon? and, embark’d once more,
At random drift upon tumultuous waves,
A stranger to thyself and to the world?
Where is she? that my words with speed may tell
The joyful tidings of our near escape!
Oppress’d with gloomy care, I much require
The certain comfort thou dost promise me.
Thy brother is restor’d! The rocky paths
Of this unconsecrated shore we trod
In friendly converse, while behind us lay,
Unmark’d by us, the consecrated grove;
And ever with increasing glory shone
The fire of youth around his noble brow.
Courage and hope his glowing eye inspir’d:
And his exultant heart resign’d itself
To the delight, the joy, of rescuing
Thee, his deliverer, also me, his friend.
The gods shower blessings on thee, Pylades!
And from those lips which breathe such welcome news,
Be the sad note of anguish never heard!
I bring yet more,—for Fortune, like a prince,
Comes not alone, but well accompanied.
Our friends and comrades we have also found.
Within a bay they had conceal’d the ship,
And mournful sat expectant. They beheld
Thy brother, and a joyous shout uprais’d.
Imploring him to haste the parting hour.
Each hand impatient long’d to grasp the oar,
While from the shore a gently murmuring breeze,
Perceiv’d by all, unfurl’d its wing auspicious.
Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane,
That I may tread the sanctuary, and win
With sacred awe the goal of our desires.
I can unaided on my shoulder bear
The goddess’ image: how I long to feel
The precious burden!
[While speaking the last words, he appreaches the Temple, without perceiving that he is not followed byIphigenia:at length he turns round.
Why thus lingering stand?
Why art thou silent? wherefore thus confus’d?
Doth some new obstacle oppose our bliss?
Inform me, hast thou to the king announc’d
The prudent message we agreed upon?
I have, dear Pylades; yet wilt thou chide.
Thy very aspect is a mute reproach.
The royal messenger arriv’d, and I,
According to thy counsel, fram’d my speech.
He seem’d surpris’d, and urgently besought
That to the monarch I should first announce
The rite unusual, and attend his will.
I now await the messenger’s return.
Danger again doth hover o’er our heads!
Alas! Why hast thou fail’d to shroud thyself
Within the veil of sacerdotal rites?
I never have employ’d them as a veil.
Pure soul! thy scruples will destroy alike
Thyself and us. Why did I not foresee
Such an emergency, and tutor thee
This counsel also wisely to elude?
Chide only me, for mine alone the blame.
Yet other answer could I not return
To him, who strongly and with reason urg’d
What my own heart acknowledg’d to be right.
The danger thickens; but let us be firm,
Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves;
Calmly await the messenger’s return,
And then stand fast, whatever his reply:
For the appointment of such sacred rites
Doth to the priestess, not the king belong.
Should he demand the stranger to behold,
Who is by madness heavily oppress’d,
Evasively pretend that in the fane,
Well guarded, thou retainest him and me.
Thus you secure us time to fly with speed,
Bearing the sacred treasure from this race,
Unworthy its possession. Phœbus sends
Auspicious omens, and fulfils his word,
Ere we the first conditions have perform’d.
Free is Orestes, from the curse absolv’d!
Oh, with the freed one, to the rocky isle
Where dwells the god, waft us, propitious gales.
Thence to Mycene, that she may revive;
That from the ashes of the extinguish’d hearth,
The household gods may joyously arise,
And beauteous fire illumine their abode!
Thy hand from golden censers first shall strew
The fragrant incense. O’er that threshold thou
Shalt life and blessing once again dispense,
The curse atone, and all thy kindred grace
With the fresh bloom of renovated life.
As doth the flower revolve to meet the sun,
Once more my spirit to sweet comfort turns,
Struck by thy words’ invigorating ray.
How dear the counsel of a present friend.
Lacking whose godlike power, the lonely one
In silence droops! for, lock’d within his breast,
Slowly are ripen’d purpose and resolve,
Which friendship’s genial warmth had soon matur’d.
Farewell! I haste to reassure our friends,
Who anxiously await us: then with speed
I will return, and, hid within the brake,
Attend thy signal.—Wherefore, all at once,
Doth anxious thought o’ercloud thy brow serene?
Forgive me! As light clouds athwart the sun,
So cares and fears float darkling o’er my soul.
Oh, banish fear! With danger it hath form’d
A close alliance,—they are constant friends.
It is an honest scruple which forbids
That I should cunningly deceive the king,
And plunder him who was my second father.
Him thou dost fly who would have slain thy brother.
To me, at least, he hath been ever kind.
What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
Alas! it still remains ingratitude!
Necessity alone can justify it.
Thee, before gods and men, it justifies.
But my own heart is still unsatisfied.
Scruples too rigid are a cloak for pride.
I cannot argue, I can only feel.
Conscious of right, thou should’st respect thyself.
Then only doth the heart know perfect ease
When not a stain pollutes it.
In this fane
Pure hast thou kept thy heart. Life teaches us
To be less strict with others and ourselves;
Thou’lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful
Is human nature, and its varied ties
Are so involv’d and complicate, that none
May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,
And walk without perplexity through life.
Nor are we call’d upon to judge ourselves;
With circumspection to pursue his path
Is the immediate duty of a man;
For seldom can he rightly estimate
Or his past conduct or his present deeds.
Almost thou dost persuade me to consent.
Needs there persuasion when no choice is granted?
To save thyself, thy brother, and a friend,
One path presents itself, and canst thou ask
If we shall follow it?
Still let me pause,
For such injustice thou could’st not thyself
Calmly return for benefits receiv’d.
If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,
Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion.
It seems thou art not used to suffer much,
When, to escape so great calamity,
Thou canst refuse to utter one false word.
Oh, that I bore within a manly heart!
Which, when it hath conceiv’d a bold resolve,
’Gainst every other voice doth close itself.
In vain thou dost refuse; with iron hand
Necessity commands; her stern decree
Is law supreme, to which the gods themselves
Must yield submission. In dread silence rules
The uncounsell’d sister of eternal fate.
What she appoints thee to endure,—endure;
What to perform,—perform. The rest thou knowest.
Ere long I will return, and then receive
The seal of safety from thy sacred hand.
(Alone.) I must obey him, for I see my friends
Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate
Doth with increasing anguish move my heart.
May I no longer feed the silent hope
Which in my solitude I fondly cherish’d?
Shall the dire curse eternally endure?
And shall our fated race ne’er rise again
With blessings crown’d?—All mortal things decay!
The noblest powers, the purest joys of life
At length subside: then wherefore not the curse?
And have I vainly hop’d that, guarded here,
Secluded from the fortunes of my race,
I, with pure heart and hands, some future day
Might cleanse the deep defilement of our house?
Scarce was my brother in my circling arms
From raging madness suddenly restor’d,
Scarce had the ship, long pray’d for, near’d the strand,
Once more to waft me to my native shores
When unrelenting Fate, with iron hand,
A double crime enjoins; commanding me
To steal the image, sacred and rever’d,
Confided to my care, and him deceive
To whom I owe my life and destiny.
Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!
Nor the old Titan’s hate, toward you, ye gods,
Infix its vulture talons in my breast!
Save me and save your image in my soul!
An ancient song comes back upon mine ear—
I had forgotten it, and willingly—
The Parcæ’s song, which horribly they sang,
What time, hurl’d headlong from his golden seat,
Fell Tantalus. They with their noble friend
Keen anguish suffer’d; savage was their breast
And horrible their song. In days gone by,
When we were children, oft our ancient nurse
Would sing it to us, and I mark’d it well.