I weep for him in Argos slain,
The brother whom I knew, Ah me,
A babe, a flower; and yet to be--
There on his mother's arms and breast--
The crowned Orestes, lord of men!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS.
Stay, yonder from some headland of the sea
There comes--methinks a herdsman, seeking thee.

(Enter a HERDSMAN. IPHIGENIA is still on her knees.)

HERDSMAN.
Daughter of Clytemnestra and her king,
Give ear! I bear news of a wondrous thing.

IPHIGENIA.
What news, that should so mar my obsequies?

HERDSMAN.
A ship hath passed the blue Symplegades,
And here upon our coast two men are thrown,
Young, bold, good slaughter for the altar-stone
Of Artemis!

[SHE RISES.]

Make all the speed ye may;
'Tis not too much. The blood-bowl and the spray!