Chorus: Is it on Perseus' citadel thou callest, that town Cyclopean
workmen build
Iphigenia: To be a light to Hellas didst thou rear me, and so I say
not No to death.
Chorus: Thou art right; no fear that fame will e'er desert thee!
Iphigenia: Hail to thee, bright lamp of day and light of Zeus! A different
life, different lot is henceforth mine. Farewell I bid thee, light
beloved! (Exit Iphigenia.)
Chorus: Behold the maiden on her way, the destroyer of Ilium's town
and its Phrygians, with garlands twined about her head, and drops
of lustral water on her, soon to besprinkle with her gushing blood
the altar of a murderous goddess, what time her shapely neck is severed.
For thee fair streams of a father's pouring and lustral waters are
in store, for thee Achaea's host is waiting, eager to reach the citadel
of Ilium. But let us celebrate Artemis, the daughter of Zeus, queen
among the gods, as if upon some happy chance.
O lady revered, delighting in human sacrifice, send on its way to
Phrygia's land the host of the Hellenes, to Troy's abodes of guile,
and grant that Agamemnon may wreathe his head with deathless fame,
a crown of fairest glory for the spearmen of Hellas. (Enter Messenger.)