In King Thaos's kingdom, Iphigenia is the priestess of Artemis who takes the lives of strangers in sacrifice for the gods. Until the day two special strangers are brought to her - strangers who she recognizes: Orestes, her brother, and Pylades, their cousin. To keep the king from sacrificing her family, the three begin to devise a plan of escape. But when the fateful day comes, will they manage to escape or will their plans be discovered resulting in the forfeiture of all their lives?Beneath your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs Of this old, shady, consecrated grove, As in the goddess' silent sanctuary, With the same shudd'ring feeling forth I step, As when I trod it first, nor ever here Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home. Long as the mighty will, to which I bow, Hath kept me here conceal'd, still, as at first, I feel myself a stranger. For the sea Doth sever me, alas! from those I love, And day by day upon the shore I stand, My soul still seeking for the land of Greece. But to my sighs, the hollow-sounding waves Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply. Alas for him! who friendless and alone, Remote from parents and from brethren dwells; From him grief snatches every coming joy Ere it doth reach his lip. His restless thoughts Revert for ever to his father's halls, Where first to him the radiant sun unclos'd The gates of heav'n; where closer, day by day, Brothers and sisters, leagu'd in pastime sweet, Around each other twin'd the bonds of love. I will not judge the counsel of the gods; Yet, truly, woman's lot doth merit pity. Man rules alike at home and in the field, Nor is in foreign climes without resource; Possession gladdens him, him conquest crowns, And him an honourable death awaits. How circumscrib'd is woman's destiny! Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord, Her duty, and her comfort; sad her fate, Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote: Thus I, by noble Thoas, am detain'd, Bound with a heavy, though a sacred chain. Oh! with what shame, Diana, I confess That with repugnance I perform these rites For thee, divine protectress! unto whom I would in freedom dedicate my life. In thee, Diana, I have always hop'd, And still I hope in thee, who didst infold Within the holy shelter of thine arm The outcast daughter of the mighty king. Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruin'd Troy Led back in triumph to his native land The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict, His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding, - Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon, Who to thine altar led his darling child, Preserv'd his wife, Electra, and his son. His dearest treasures?-then at length restore Thy suppliant also to her friends and home, And save her, as thou once from death didst save, So now, from living here, a second death