Modern Italian Poets
in his hands, to do what he will, so long as he respects the internal harmony of his own work. For this reason, I think, we find Alfieri at his best in these tragedies, among which I have liked
a that her husband intends to raise Cassandra to the throne. She kills him and reigns with Aegisthus, Electra
ough the darkness to her husband's chamber, s
r; and sunk i
non. Shall
to the fair
him of stainles
the minister
at? Ay, that;
let me go! My fo
mble. Oh, what
I attempt? How
rom me since Ae
the immen
horrible dee
specter of
accuse thee!
. Me, only me
hy love. Thou
art my husban
ep, to death's
shall I hide
pe for peace?
e, of madness,
isthus, even
ide the par
der-stained
for himself?
e instrument o
u execrable d
once my lover
his hand betra
ero! Live, h
error! Live
hildren, and
ese hushed steps
s by night? Ae
m l
st thou not d
Aegis
'st thou here, w
ar
y are thy tear
and it may c
Thou
me, what did I
icked
it not th
hee and fear a
pentest, I am
uiltless shall
hat the enter
uly trusting
a man's courag
eble hands to
grant that th
rm thee! Hithe
the darkness
e. For I perf
ll thee that
edicated to
game
s consent to the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and goads her on to the crime from which she
each
headens, I die
s out with the da
s with blood; m
are wet with bloo
aken for this
y steel turned
whose
od and early youth at the court of Strophius in Phocis. The tragedy named for him
, horrible, a
nt to my thou
sters I have s
darkness and wit
t should have
pilt! O memo
nes I saw thee
and by who
ar to
os, in thy
thus, with my
me endure a
ope of venge
living! I save
for thee, ti
t make to stre
s like these, but
muses, Clytemnestra e
Dau
ce! Oh Heave
My da
y me! Thy pio
thee. Aegisthus
now. Ah, come!
the
hose
-hapless
say thy husband'
speak it. But ho
d thy steps-tho
th his
usters now
d day, and two
p my
hat time
f thy tears sho
thing. Look! See
these horrid
plash them with?
ddens and gro
I must never m
*
s me! What can
one!-And yet
ouldst but read-
ret of a hea
ed with su
me? I blame
ate. On earth
s of hell. Scar
nd before a s
late, fell ter
r still the s
ight, and ev
ore mine eyes.
ding footsteps
llow; at table
de me; on my
ce I close mine
-fatal visi
my dreams, and t
led, with a
both its palms fu
my face! On
eadful days. I
e. Daughter,-
ghter still,-do
rs lik
inks from Electra's fierce counsel that she shall kill him. He enters to find her in tear
he is my husband.
my da
s Atrides'
Atrides'
Ele
sthus! Look-the
omb!-and art t
less unlike thy
se hand in yon
lame! What else
ppy, miser
to it now upb
joy! O only jo
ese ten years!
prey of ange
what must the
so blood
her of her former crimes when she revolts from this. The scene is very well managed, with that sparing phrase which in Alfieri is quite as apt to be touchingly
t last. Here
ere Aegisthus r
l, though I a
ls, and the jus
e back
e years h
ince that dread
y treachery,
palace with his
Oh, well d
ly bore me th
Strophius in h
ophius, less by
eafter-and fled
stern-gate,
e there ran
clamor and a
weep and shud
, and weeping
h his hand my
se, and sprinkl
ars; and to th
w we landed,
ce; and eag
s before
emselves messengers sent by Strophius with tidings of Orestes' death, and Orestes has reluctantly consented, when Electra re-appears,
is Aegisthus.
er, none, bel
him, let it b
e, the manner,
Still I keep,
l that in her h
nevermore we mi
res it with tha
tra.
know how she dr
gamemnon's
r-and even w
suspicion a
orn even by Ae
us though she
and yet rea
chance, if the
ame and her abh
mother, never
e gnaws at he
and horrible
om her eyes.-So
their tidings to her, and they finally do so, Pylades struggling to prevent Orestes from revealing himself. There are touchingly simple and natural passages in the
beloved, I g
thou did'st ac
mained to take
ruel and so
that thou did'
so well, what h
tell me, was t
ad Agamemnon
ut for his son's
he palace in
urst not wield a
brandish! Ay, bo
helpless
what booted i
murderer, sinc
ime in strange
illainous us
my son! Aegist
her, and am
estra between her love for her son and her love for Aegisthus, to whom she clings even while he exults in the
stes died, for after his first rejoicing he has come to doubt the fact. Pylades respon
year an anci
ames and offer
glory and in
ast the youth;
s, insepara
car upon th
triumph urge
of the flying
t on winning,
s for v
t how?
, impatient, an
horses on with t
ood-stained whip,
oal the ill-tam
ster. Reckles
e that fain woul
athing fire, their
and in thick
, round the vas
ift they whirl
mad confusion,
crooked circl
t, the smoki
shock against
headlo
more! Ah
her hea
s true. F
ll how, horri
fe-blood soaked
-in vain-wi
iend e
wicke
In
nted him, so
y, grace,
y, who
e this wretch
ever, never s
ll I see the
eam to clasp th
frowning eyes
readful wrath!
slew you both.
e!-Now art con
and about to be led to prison in chains, when Electra enters and in her anguish at the sight exclaims, "Orestes led to die!" Then ensues a heroic scene, in which each of the friends clai
call mother. Take
lunge it in Ae
die; I care
nged. I ask n
l love from th
is it that I se
le? Thou weepes
Thou lov'st Aegi
tes' mother?
t me look on
e usurper with the beginning of the fifth act, which I shall give entire, because I think it very characteristic of Alfieri, and necessary to a conception
EN
US and
y unforseen! O
ed? Now we
CLYTEM
Ah!
rd thy
etch, dost
ins
save thee.
no lo
Trait
. S
ou 'st
e me to that
, save thee from
d perish for t
here in safe
against
ainst h
l be my stay.
Whi
To ki
hy death
thou? Hark! Do
reats of the who
not lea
thou hop
ous son from dea
will
s, Aegisthu
est me not. "O
w that terrib
ere! I am no
danger. Against
once
nowest well
ce, and at the
redoubled in
ses. Ah, thou
cause! For t
that turns
ill me
nd escape so
I f
rt thou for me. Le
d I have thee by
from them! O mo
ger owns me f
his wife: and
st be! O m
m, nor lose th
r EL
e goest thou! Tu
palace.
restes
now? What
Ores
myself, we
hus' minion
is is Orestes!"
estes! Let Ae
hat do
hyself, mo
hold thy son
ous tyran
cruel,
! The people
for a parr
ot as yet, or
T was for this
agony appea
gged to death, a
misdeed. My b
e, to succor a
sights. To fin
nwhile, he an
re. Where is th
s is the wi
O He
ave him or to
thou shalt neve
enalty is
O mo
at but now thy
h, woul
I would
ath! My ter
. He is my
me. I will not,
raitors, not c
Loose me, tho
k I go, an
m in tim
thy fate
o, but be thy
, too, arm me
stabs a thousan
gisthus! O bli
ettered to his
tremble-If
urdered king o
er her-But wh
my brother no
r PY
l me! O
passes t
rds. And now o
gisthus! Hast
.
ove in vain a
ddened wife. S
or, crying tha
hield unto
ad fled t
urst h
in the sight
ain ere this!
m first. Neare
their
tes!" Ah,
im in his fury
TES and hi
you attempt to
unding sword h
Where art thou,
re art thou? C
h that calls thee
st thou hide th
of Erebus shoul
on see if I b
is not
ors! You
in him w
efore
fled th
the pal
rks; but I will
ks I'll drag hi
yer, nor god, n
e from me. I wil
thy vile bod
,-I will dra
ere all thine a
ost thou not b
thou? I wan
e is
nd you, ye wretc
will f
CLYTEM
have pi
ose son am I
m
hus, loaded
e liv
et me go
ay, ki
ather-I alon
guilt
who gri
ack? O Madness
drag him hithe
dost thou not
.
estes' hand, die
t escaped me! T
t! {
! Run, run! Oh,
ck hither! {
er! She
nd he must ha
she saw her c
ink of an i
sorrow and h
hey are now f
g desired has
diest; and on
resound with
orrible and
ather's last,
Orestes str
low; already
ult of the cro
tes conquer
ng wit
r OR
er mine
e king of kin
me, come
Si
eest me Atride
sthus' blood! I
him where he s
to our fathe
times I plunged a
ardly and qu
d not my long th
mnestra did no
y thin
ho had be
stay my arm?
more swift t
, and those vil
hate. A man tha
ee, my
s our sir
w, and tell me,
not P
saw Ae
ere is dear Py
ond me in this
nfided to hi
perate
w nothing
r PY
returns-O heave
rns
d? Oh wher
art thou? Know's
ok, how with hi
pping! Ah, thou
with me! Feed t
yes, my
sight!
e that
d wher
Give
Take
n! We may not
ese borde
But
Oh s
Clytem
her; she i
yre unto her t
far more than fulfi
, and ask
t dost
r! I beseech
at chill is t
all my
The h
, she
her dagger, madd
des! Why dost
k! What h
. S
by who
. C
STES.) Thou
parr
Unk
in her heart th
ou rannest o
.
seizes me!
des, give it m
shall
Brot
calls me
ous wretch, thou
atricide? Giv
ury! Where am
e? Who stays me
all I fly, whe
t thou look o
e blood of me, a
e-for thee al
Orestes-miser
ot! ah, he is
e must go
. H
law of ru