Iphigenia: I cannot let thee shed a tear. (Exit Clytaemnestra. To
the Chorus) Be it yours, maidens, to hymn in joyous strains Artemis,
the child of Zeus, for my hard lot; and let the order for a solemn
hush go forth to the Danai. Begin the sacrifice with the baskets,
let the fire blaze for the purifying meal of sprinkling, and my father
pace from left to right about the altar; for I come to bestow on Hellas
safety crowned with victory. Lead me hence, me the destroyer of Ilium's
town and the Phrygians; give me wreaths to cast about me; bring them
hither; here are my tresses to crown; bring lustral water too. Dance
to Artemis, queen Artemis the blest, around her fane and altar; for
by the blood of my sacrifice I will blot out the oracle, if it needs
must be.
O mother, lady revered! for thee shall my tears be shed, and now;
for at the holy rites I may not weep.
Sing with me, maidens, sing the praises of Artemis, whose temple faces
Chalcis, where angry spearmen madly chafe, here in the narrow havens
of Aulis, because of me.
O Pelasgia, land of my birth, and Mycenae, my home!