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sunshine of Christmas mirth, New Messenger can not be too large for a month's readYear har and every day joy keep you from ing. By reduction of size and loss of character, experiencing it, and make you as incredulous of it it could be brought to the level of three dollar 23 was the Eastern King of the existence of ice. cheapness,—but no true friend can desire to see

Another year, with its hopes, its duties and its this done. You may lop the noble oak, until noaims, is opening before us. Different occupations thing is left but its unsightly trunk, fit only to invite the energy of our spirits. Go on with brave be burned ; or you may cut it down and leave bearts and strong hands—the wilderness of Life only its misshapen stump; but, in order to enjoy will fall before you and smiling homes and spreading, its beauty and shade, you must extend its spreadreeming fields will reward and bless your efforts. ing branches, by watering its roots and fertilizing

We approve the custom of the Editor commen- its soil. Sooner than see the Messenger dispareing each volame with a little friendly chat with aged and brought down from its present exalted po his patrons. He has to thank the firm and stead- sition, we had rather see it fall. Southerners, fast, to incite the faltering, to arouse the supine you can preserve it, as it stands; and who had not and invoke anew the aid of all the friends of Lite- rather see the proud monument, reared in honor of rary Enterprise. He has to congratulate his readers some noble achievement, shattered by the lightupon the delight he has afforded them, to unfoldning, or uprooted by the earthquake, than suffered to them his plans, and to commune with them about to moulder and decay, by the neglect of those who his prospects-ah! and he has to regret that many should have cherished and perpetuated it. are so indifferent to the noble cause, in which he is What are the few thousand patrons of the Meseagaged, as to withdraw, or withhold their encour- senger to the vast number of those to whose inagement and support. How can any, whose hearts terest, to whose patriotism and appreciation of and minds have been visited by the “ Day-star” of' laudable enterprise it strongly appeals? We can

Vol. X-1


not rest satisfied, nor feel proud of the South until

IPHIGENIA AT TAURIS. she has sent us TEN THOUSAND subscribers.

A DRAMATIC POEM. We are almost ready to resolve that we will have this number if we have to go through the land, a second Peter the Hermit. Come then, ye (Translated from the German of Goëthé.) sons of the South, who love your own land, and ye sons of the North, who wish a bond of union with

The Grecian host, destined for the destruction of Troy,

was assembled at Aulis. All was now ready and each Gre. your brethren—who wish to reciprocate that gene- cian bosom burned to avenge the injured Helen. There lay rous patronage which your every effort receives the ships freighted with heros and all the munitions of war; from us ;-Come and enroll your names in behalf but in vain they waited for propitious wind3. Agamemnon, of the Messenger. To you, most generous and King of Men,” the commander of this mighty host, had steady Patrons, we owe unbounded thanks, and killed the favorite stag of Diana, and the Goddess, in disshall strive, unremittingly, to requite you for your pleasure, allowed “not one favoring breeze to swell his

flauging sails." favors, by sending you a work worthy of yourselves.

Calchas “disclosed the fates" and demanded the costly To effect this, let none be Patrons in name only- sacrifice of Iphigenia, Agamemnon's cherished daughter, but all in deed and in truth. Let every friend en- to appease “ the Queen dispensing light.” The father's list his friends; every gifted pen pour fourth its love hardly yields to the Greek's devotion; but the wiley treasures and all unite to rear a monument of talent Ulysses is sent to lure the dedicated victim and her mother

to the camp, under the pretence of marrying Iphigenia to worthy of the Fathers we have buried, of the land the Great Achilles. The hour arrives, the Altar is prewhich they left us, of the privileges we possess pared and the victim, now willing, is ready to die; but and the destiny that awaits us.

Diana ransoms the maiden, and enshrouding her in a cloud, At this season of Christmas Gifts and New Year bears her away to Tauris, in the present Crimea, and Presents, it may be expected that we should offer makes her priestess of her Temple there. What happened

there the play will best unfold. you something more substantial than sentiment, or

Euripides, in his works, has celebrated Iphigenia both exhortation. Alas! alas !! we have neither“Mys- at Aulis and at Tauris. The German poet has represented teries of Paris," Newspaper " Annuals," nor any some incidents differently from him. The name of the other unrivalled “Premiums," to offer you. A author of the following translation would give it weight; cordial greeting and our Messenger's stores--our

but we must confine ourselves to saying, that it has been “heart and lute”—are all we can give you. Oh!

highly approved by a German scholar and by an excellent

judge of its English Dress.-Ed. Mess. ye grown up children, will not these suffice? If not, then sincerely do we hope, that St. Nicholas

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. has well filled your hanging socks with sugar plums Iphigenia, Priestess of the Temple of Diana at Tauris and and fire-crackers. But ye, whose devotion did not

Daughter of Agamemnon. propitiate the bountiful Nicholas, be not disconso- Thoas, King of Tauris. late ; for your fond mothers have, or will, no doubt, Arcas, his Minister. award you the portion of that “big boy,"

Orestes, Brother of Iphigenia. “ Little Jack Horner,

Pylades, his friend.

SCENE.-The grove before Diana's Temple.
Who sat in a corner,

Eating his Christmas pie.”
But indeed we are disposed to be liberal---yes we

ACT I.-SCENE 1. will astonish you by our generosity. Then,“ dear

Iphigenia alone. friends, sweet friends," if you will only turn over Through your deep shades, ye high and waving summits, a new leaf with us, what will we not do for you ?

of this old consecrated leafy grove, Yes, yes, we must be liberal. We will give you I move, e'en now, with shuddering emotion,

As in Diana's silent sanctuary, free permission to read the Messenger through— As if I ne'er before bad i rod your mazes ; and-and-to pay for it. Nor shall your precious Nor does my soul yet find itself at home. privileges end here ; for, in the best faith, we pro- So many years have I been here concealed mise to renew this “charter of

"By that high will, io which I meekly bow; your

Liberties" when, with the blessing of Heaven, we come to For ah! From all I love the sea divides me,

And yet, as at the first, I am a stranger. celebrate the birth-day of another year. Till then, And, standing on the shore the live long day, Joy, Peace and Truth attend your steps.

My yearning spirit, o'er the watery waste,
Stretches herself to seek the shores of Greece ;
While to my sighs the roaring waves give back

Their sullen, hoarse, unsympathizing voice.
To think rightly is of Knowledge; to speak fluently is of Wo to the wretch, who, far from home and kindred,

Must mourn in solitude life's dearest joys To read with profit is of care ; but to write aptly is of Dashed from his lip. His thronging thoughts still roam practice.

Back to his Father's halls, back to the scenes, To be accurate, write ; to remember, write ; to know thine Where first the fair Sun to his eye disclosed own mind, write.

The face of Heaven ; where the sports of childhood,
Strengthening the ties of blood, still closer drew


The silken lands that heart to heart unite.

Arcas. Still so unhappy! Pardon my presumption ! I do not quarrel with the Gods. But ah!

Is it not rather that thou art ungrateful? The lot of Woman is indeed most sad.

Iphigenia. Thanks you have always. la Pezee mun gorerns, and in War commands;


Aye, but not the thanks In stranger lands, his hand still guards his head.

That recompense the benefit ; the look
Possession gladdens him, and Victory crowns ;

That speaks a heart content in grateful love.
Acj gorious Death ends all. But fale binds Woman When, many years ago, mysterious fate
To make obedience to a Tyrant Husband

Placed thee a Priestess in this holy fane,
Her duty and her only consolation.

Thoas received thee, as a gift from Heaven,
Abdob! How wretched should a hostile fate

With reverence and love. To thee this shore
To strangers in strange lands consign her. Here, Gave kindly welcome, iho' to all beside
Tbus noble Thoas keeps me. Solemn-holy

So full of horror. For what stranger else
The bond that binds me; yet am I a slave,

Had entered our realm, who did not bleed Add Hash to own with what reluctant service

At Dian's altar, a devoted victim Isal on tbee, ob Goddess ! thee to whom

According to time-consecrated custom. I ove my life; to whom that life should be,

Iphigenia. Breath is not life; and what a lise is this, With free unforced devotion dedicated.

Chained to this holy spot, as if a ghost Yet have I trusted, and I still do trust

Were doomed around its.grave ever to wander. In thee, Diana, who, in thy soft arms,

Is this a lise conscious of life and joy, And to thy holy bosom didst embrace

Whose every hour dreamed fruitlessly away, The disowned daughter of the King of men.

Can but prepare the soul for that grey twilight, Dauzbter of Jove, if thou the illustrious man

Which, on the shores of Lethe, the sad host Be thee afflicted for his victim child,

Of parted spirits celelirate in draughts I thoa ibe God-like Agamemnon, who

Of deep oblivion,-even of themselves ? The darling of his heart brought to thine altar,

A useless life is but an early death : Hast led in glory from Troy's prostrate walls

And such is Woman's fate-such most is mine. Back to bis faiberland; bis treasures there,

Arcas. The noble pride that sees not its own merit Wife-son-and daughter, all preserved by thee,

I pardon but lament it ; for it robs thee 05! give me too at last to those I love;

Of what thou prizest most, and well hast purchased. Me, w born from Death already thou hast saved,

Thou hast done nothing here, since thine arrival!!! Sare from the living Death I suffer here.

Who then has cheered the troubled soul of Thoas ?
Whose gentle influence has, from year to year,

The old and barbarous custom held in check,

Which cruelly fore-doomed the hapless stranger
Iphigenia. Arcas.

To bleed a victim'on Diana's altar,

And often has sent back from certain death Areas. Greeting and hail to great Diana's Priestess

The ransomed captives to their native land? The King by me hath sent. Tauris today

Whose winning prayer has soothed the injured Goddess, For new and wondrous victories gives thanks

That she, without displeasure, sees her Temple To ber protecting Goddess; and the King,

Robbed of its victims, and still leads us on Fotowed by his triumphant host, approaches.

To victory and triumph? Who but thou lprigenia

. We are prepared to give them fit reception ; Has sostened the stern spirit of the King, Aza great Diana now the welcome offering

Who, wise and brave, our councils and our arms
From Thoas' hand, with gracious smile, expects.
Arcas. And thine, much-honored Priestess ! Were thy While he, rejoicing in thy presence, takes

Directs, that lightly sits the yoke of duty, smile,

The infection of thy mildness? Is this nothing? Os' holy virgin, also clear and bright,

This to be useless ? When thy very being How happy were the omen. Secret grief

Sheds balm on thousands ? When the Gods have made Sti'l preys upon thy heart; and still in vain

thee For years we're listened for one trustful word.

A source of comfort to the happy people Tral self-same look, I still, with shuddering awe,

To whom they kindly gave thee, and a refuge Have seen, since first I saw thee in this place,

To the lorn stranger on this deadly shore,
And still, as if forged down with iron bands,

Where, but for thee, his doom were sealed.
Deep in thy inmost breast, thy soul remains.
Ipugenia. As best beconies the Exile and the Orphan. Dwindles to nothing, in the eye that looks


What's done
Arcas. Art thou an Exile and an Orphan here?
Izlagonia. Can a strange shore become our Fatherland ? Forward, and sees how much is left to do.
Arrus, But now to thee thy Fatherland is foreign.

Arcas. But is it just to undervalue merit,
Iphigenir. Ah true! Most true! And hence my heart Though in ourselves?
still bleeds.


"Twere surely better so ble's first dawn, while yet the unpractised heart Than rate ourselves too highly. Is adly conscious of the tie that binds


Both are wrong; To Failer, Mother, Kindred; while the scions,

The Proud, who scorns applause when justly due : Tout cluster round the root of the old stem,

The Vain, greedy of praise, who asks too much. First Heaven-ward begin to strive ;. Oh! then

Believe and listen to the words of one A dirse seized on me, and, with iron grasp,

Sincerely-faithfully devoted to thee. Sanderog that tie, bore me from all I loved.

Should the King speak with thee to-day, take kindly Tu perished Youth's best joys; then withering shrunk What he intends to say. The had of promise. Rescued from the grave,


Your words tho' kind What am I, but a shadow to myself,

Distress me. Often and with pain have 1 Where in no flush of joy again can bloom.

Evaded bis proposal.

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Yet bethink thee
Of what thou dost, and what is best for thee.
Since his Son's death, the King no longer trusts
His followers as before. None-ahsolutely
Few he trusts at all. On every youth
Of noble birth he looks with jealousy,
As the successor to his vacant ihrone;
While, for himself, lonely and helpless age,
Or rude rebellion and untimely death
Seem to await him. In the arts of speech,
The Scythian takes no pride. He least of al}.
Accustomed to command, and prompt to act,
The art, by devious and well-chosen phrase
To steal upon his object, is to him
Unknown. Make not his task more difficult
By coy refusal, or by willul dulness.
Meet him complacently. Meet his wish half way.

Iphigenia. Must I accelerate what threatens me?
Arcas. Callest thou then his suit a threat?

Most dreadful. Arcas. Then for his love at least give confidence. Iphigenia. Let him first free my soul from fear. Arcas.

But why Dost thou from him thy origin conceal?

Iphigenia. It is, that secresy becomes a Priestess.

Arcas. Nothing should be a secret from the King;
And tho' he questions not, he sleeply feels,
In his great soul, the studied cold reserve,
In which thou shroudest thyself.

Does he then cherish
Anger against me.?

So it almost seems,
He speaks not of thee, but unguarded words,
At random uttered, show his steadfast purpose
To win thee. Do not leave him to himself,
Lest his displeasure change to that, which well
May make thee tremble, and too late remember,
With deep regrets, my faithful counsel,

Designs he then that which no noble man,
Who honors his own name, and in whose heart
Due reverence of the heavenly beings reigns,
Should ever meditate ? Means he by force
To drag me from the altar to his bed?
Then on the Gods I call, and chief on Diana,
Resolved and faithful: She will not deny-
A Goddess to her Priestess-her protection-
A Virgin to a Virgin.

Fear not that.
The heart of youthful blood drives not the King
To the audacious violence of Youth.
But-thinking as he does, I much do fear
A sterner purpose, which his thwarted will
Most surely will accomplish. Firm he is,
And fixed in his designs. I pray thee then
Be thankful-trustful, if you be no more.

Iphigenia. Tell me what else thou knowest.

Learn it from him.
I see him coming. Thou dost honor him.
Ohey thy heart, and meet him as a friend.
Give him thy confidence. The noblest men
Most readily submit them to be guided
By a kind word from woman.

[Exit Arcas.]


Iphigenia. Thoas.
Iphigenia. With royal blessings may the Goddess bless

Victory and Glory, Wealth and Happiness
To thee and thine may she profusely grant,
With the fulfilment of each pious wish,
That, as the multitude o'er whom thy reign
Extends its blessings, be the rich abundance
Of thy rare happiness.

Enough for ine
My People's praises. All that I have gained
Is more enjoyed by others than by ine;
For be is happiest, whether King or Peasant,
Whose home is happy. Thou didst share my sorrow,
When from my side my Son, my last, my best,
The hostile sword lopped off. Then, wbile Reyenge
Possessed my spirit, I felt not the void
Of my lone dwelling. Now-my rage appeased-
The hostile realm laid waste-my Son avenged,
I look at home sor bliss, and look in vain.
The glad obedience which I once beheld
Sparkling in every eye, is now exchanged
For dark-browed care, and dumb anxiety,
While each one, musing on the doubtful future,
Obeys his childless King because he must.
Now, to this temple, which so ost I've entered
To pray for Victory, or to render thanks
For Victories won, again I come to-day,
And in my bosom a long cherished wish,
To you not new, I bear; the wish--the hope
To bear thee to my dwelling as my bride,
A blessing to my People and myself.

Iphigenia. Too much ihou offerest to one unknown,
Oh King! The exile stands abashed before thee,
Who, on this shore, sought nothing but repose,
And the protection thou hast kindly granted.

Thoas. And is it right, from me as from a Peasant,
The secret of thy origin to hide?
In any country this would be ungrateful :
But here, where strangers tremble to encounter
What Law and stern Necessity denounce,
From thee, enjoying every pious right,
A guest received with favor, one who lives
According to her every wish and fancy,
From thee I hoped at least the confidence
Due to a faithful host.

If I concealed,
Oh, King! the name of Parents and of race,
'Twas in perplexity and not distrust.
Did'st thou but know who stands before thee here,
Whose the accursed head thy pity shelters,
Horror, perchance, would seize thy noble heart,
And shuddering, thou wouldest drive me from thy realm,
Instead of asking me to share thy throne;
Thrusting me forth, ere yet occasion offers
To end my wanderings in a blest return
To all I love ;-forth to the misery
Which, hovering round the exile, clings to him
Frighting his soul with its strange icy grasp.

Thoas. Whate'er the counsels of the Gods decree
Against thee or thy house, here every blessing
Their bounty can bestow has still attended
Thy cherished presence. I can never think
That I protect in thee a guilty head.

Iphigenia. Thy bounty wins the blessing, not thy guest.

Thoas. Bounty to crime is never thus requited.
Then lay aside thy coy reserve, and give
Thy confidence to one too just to wrong it.
Holy to me thou art, as unto her


I see not How I can follow this true friend's advice. But gladly I obey the voice of duty ; And, for his many favors, to the King A kind word will I give. Oh! that I could Tell him with truth that which would please him best.

Txs pleasure.

The Goddess, who to me delivered thee,

In joint authority the subject State. And to ber nod I still submit my will.

But short their concord. For Thyestes soon Le but occasion offer to return

His brother's bed dishonors, and is driven To home and friends, that moment thou art free.

An exile from his throne. But long before, Bar iš the bomeward path be barred forever,

Full of malignant purpose, he had stolen Toy friends expelled, or crushed by huge misfortune, A Son from Atreus, and the petted boy Thea, by more laws than one, I claim thee mine.

Had brought up as his own. He fills his mind Speak then. Thou knowest me faithful to my word. With evil passions, frenzy and revenge, Iphigenia. Unwillingly my tongue resumes its freedom and sends him lo the royal court to murder, From long accustomed bondage, to reveal

In him he deems his uncle, his own father. The deep bid secret, which, when once disclosed,

His purpose is discovered; and the youth To the heart's sanctuary never more

Dies by his father's sentence, as the son Retums for refuge; but becomes henceforth

And murderous agent of a hated brother. The poteni minister of good or ill,

Too late the truth is known, that his own Son, E'en as the Gods decree. Know then my lineage.

Before his drunken eyes, had died in torture. Tis from the race of Tantalus I spring.

Deep in his breast he locks the purposed vengeance

And calmly meditates an unheard deed. Thos. A word of Power! And yet thou speakest it

He seems composed-indifferent-reconciled, calmly.

And lures his brother back into his kingdom Was be tby ancestor, whom all the world

With his two sons. The boys he seizes-murders, Krew as the man much favored by the Gods?

And to the father's table serves them up, That Tantalus, whom, of old, to his high councils

Disgustful, horrid food! Thyestes, gorged And to his table, Jove himself invited:

With his own flesh, is seized with boding gloom; He, in whose time-earned wisdom and experience,

Asks for his children, listens for their step, ['tered in words oracular, the Gods

And thinks he hears their prattling at the door,

When to his shrinking eye Atreus displays lphigenic. 'Tis the same. But Gods should not The visage grim in death, and severed limbs Converse with men, as with their equals hold.

Of either victim. Shuddering, thy face, The mortal race, too weak to bear such honor,

Oh King! thou turnest away. And so the Sun Grows dizzy with the unaccristomed height.

His countenance averted, and his chariot He was not base; and he was not a Traitor.

Turned from the eternal deep-worn track aside. Too great to be a servant, yet being Man,

Such are the Fathers of thy Priestess-such He was no fit companion for the thunderer.

Their doom. What else their wicked hearts have prompted His crime was human, but severe his doom,

Night's heavy pinions hide, and but reveal
For Poets sing that indiscreet presumption

The dreadful twilight.
Down from Jove's table to the deep disgrace
Of Tartarus hurled him; and alas! his race


Let them rest in silence. Sull tears the hatred of the Gods.

Enough of horrors. Say now, by what wonder Thous.

But bears it

Thou from this savage race hast sprung. Orly ancestral guilt? None of its own.


My Father
Iphigenia. Ah, True! The mighty mind and Titan strength Was Agamemnon, oldest son of Atreus.
Too sure descended both to Sons and Grandsons;

In him, through life, I may presume to say it,
And their stern brows, girt with an iron band,

I've seen the model of a perfect man.
(Steh was Jove's Will) repelled advice and prudence The first born of his love for Clytemnestra
Wisdom and patience from their fierce dark glance Am I. Electra next. In peace he reigned,
By bis decree concealed. In them each wish

And rest, so long denied the house of Tantalus,
Became a passion, boundless in its rage.

At length enjoyed. But to a father's wish Pelops, the strong of will, the mucb-loved Son

A son was wanting. Soon that wish was granted, Of 'Tantalas, the beauteous Hippodamia

And now between two sisters young Orestes Daughter of nomaus to his bed

Grew up the joy of all; when new misfortune, By treacherous murder won. She to his love

Prepared already, burst upon our house. Two ebildren, Atreus and Tbyestes, bore.

Fame to your ears has brought the sound of War, Tiese saw with envy that their father's heart

Which, to avenge the wrong of one fair woman, Cang to an elder son, the first born fruit

With all the powers of the Kings of Greece Of bis first love. Hatred to him uniles them.

The walls of Troy beleaguered. Whether they A brother's blood, in secret shed, first stains

The conquest have achieved, and their revenge Their bands. Suspicion on their mother falls.

Appeased I know not. All the host of Greece Pelops of her demands bis son, and she

My Father led. Baslled by adverse winds Flies from his rage to self-inflicted death.

In Aulis long they waited ; For Diana, Thoas. Silent! Speak on. Thou hast no cause to rue By their great chief oftended, thus detained Thy confidence. Proceed.

The eager host, and by the mouth of Kalchas letuigenia.

Ah! Happy he

The first born daughter of the King demanded. Won can bis fathers' memory recall

They lared me with my mother to the camp, With joyful pride. Who to the listening ear

And at the altar this devoted head De lights to tell their greatness, and exults

Was offered to the Goddess. She, appeased, To trace the bright links of a nobler lineage ;

Sought not my blood, but veiled me in a cloud Himself the last. No family at once

And bore me hither. In this temple first Breeds demigods or monsiers. Good or bad,

From Death-trance I awoke to consciousness, Teere is a series, which ends at last,

'Tis I. 'Tis Iphigenia—the grand child in the delight or horror of the world.

or Atreus; it is Agamemnon's daughter, Their father dead, Thyestes rules with Atreus

Diana's property, who speak to thee.

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