HIPPOLYTUSORPHAEDRA

FOOTNOTES:[18]Reading,restituet.HIPPOLYTUSORPHAEDRAHIPPOLYTUSORPHAEDRADRAMATIS PERSONAEHippolytusSon of Theseus and Antiope, an Amazon.PhaedraWife of Theseus and stepmother of Hippolytus.TheseusKing of Athens.NurseOf Phaedra.Messenger.Slaves and attendants.ChorusOf Athenian citizens.The sceneis laid throughout in the court in front of the royal palace at Athens; and the action is confined to the space of one day.Theseus had wed Antiope, the Amazon, and of their union had been born Hippolytus. This youth grew up to love the chase, austere and beautiful, shunning the haunts of men, and scorning the love of women. Theseus had meanwhile slain Antiope, and married Phaedra, Cretan Minos' child.And now, for four years past, the king has not been seen upon the earth, for, following the mad adventure of his bosom friend, Pirithoüs, he has descended into Tartara, and thence, men think, he never will return.Deserted by her lord, the hapless Phaedra has conceived a hopeless passion for Hippolytus; for Venus, mindful of that ancient shame, which Phaedra's ancestor, Apollo, had exposed, has sent this madness on her, even as Pasiphaë, her mother, had been cursed with a most mad and fatal malady.ACT IHippolytus[in hunting costume, assigning duties and places to his servants and companions of the hunt]: Up comrades, and the shadowy grovesWith nets encircle; swiftly rangeThe heights of our Cecropian hills;Scour well those coverts on the slopesOf Parnes, or in Thria's vale5Whose chattering streamlet roars alongIn rapid course; go climb the hillsWhose peaks are ever white with snowsOf Scythia. Let others goWhere woods with lofty alders stand10In dense array; where pastures lieWhose springing grass is waked to lifeBy Zephyr's breath, dew laden. Go,Where calm Ilissus flows alongThe level fields, a sluggish stream,15Whose winding course the barren sandsWith niggard water laps. Go yeAlong the leftward-leading way,Where Marathon her forest gladesReveals, where nightly with their youngThe suckling mothers feed. Do you,20Where, softened by the warming windsFrom southern lands, Acharnae meltsHis snows, repair; let others seekHymettus' rocky slopes, far famedFor honey; others still the gladesOf small Aphidnae. All too longThat region has unharried lain25Where Sunium with its jutting shoreThrusts out the curving sea.If any feels the forest's lure,Him Phlye calls, where dwells the boarNow scarred and known by many a wound,The farmers' fear.30Now free the dogs from straining leash,That hunt in silence; but the houndsOf keen Molossian breed hold fastIn check; let the savage Cretans strainWith chaffing necks upon their chains;The Spartans hold in strongest curb,35With caution bind, for bold their breed,And eager for the prey.The time will come when their baying loudThrough the hollow rocks shall echo; nowLet them snuff the air with nostrils keen,And with lowered muzzles seek the tracks40Of beasts, while yet the dawn is dim,And while the dewy earth still holdsThe marks of treading feet. Let someOn burdened necks the wide nets bear,And others haste to bring the snares45Of smooth-wrought cords. Let feathers, dyedWith crimson, hedge the timid deerWith terrors vain. Do thou use dartsOf Crete, and thou the heavy spearBy both hands wielded. Thou shalt sit50In hiding and with clamors loudDrive out the frightened beasts; and thou,When all is done, with curving bladeShalt break the victims.And thou, be with thy worshiper,O goddess of the chase, whose rule55Extends o'er all the secret hauntsOf earth; whose darts unerring pierceThe flying prey; whose thirst is quenchedBy cool Araxes' distant stream,Or for whose sport the Ister spreadsHis frozen waves. Thy hand pursues60Gaetulian lions, Cretan deer;And now the swiftly fleeing doesWith lighter stroke are pierced. To theeThe spotted tigers yield, to theeThe bisons, shaggy backed, and the wild,Broad-hornéd oxen of the woods.65Whatever feeds upon the plainsIn desert pasture lands; whate'erThe needy Garamantian knows,Whate'er the Arab rich in woods,Or wild Sarmatian, wandering freeAcross the lonely wilderness;70Whate'er the rugged PyreneesOr deep Hyrcanian glades conceal:All fear thy bow, thou huntress queen.If any worshiper of thineTakes to the hunt thy favoring will,His nets hold fast the struggling prey;75No birds break from his snares; for himThe groaning wagons homeward comeWith booty rich; the hounds come backWith muzzles deeply dyed in blood,And all the rustic throng returnsIn shouting triumph home.80But lo, the goddess hears. The houndsAre baying loud and clear to announceThe start. I'm summoned to the woods.Here, here I'll hasten where the roadMost quickly leads away.[Exit.]Phaedra:O mighty Crete, thou mistress of the deep,85Whose ships uncounted sail through every seaWherever Nereus shows their beaks the way,E'en to Assyria's shores; why dost thou hereCompel me thus in woe and tears to live,A hostage given to the hated foe,90And to a foeman wed? Behold my lord,Deserting me, his bride, is far away,And keeps his wonted faith. Through shadows deepOf that dark pool which may not be recrossed,This doughty follower of a madcap princeHas gone, that from the very throne of Dis95He might seduce and bear away his queen.With such mad folly linked he went away,Restrained by neither fear nor shame. And so,In deepest Acheron, illicit loveThis father of Hippolytus desires.But other, greater griefs than this oppressMy sorrowing soul; no quiet rest by night,100No slumber deep comes to dissolve my cares;But woe is fed and grows within my heart,And there burns hot as Aetna's raging fires.My loom stands empty and my listless handsDrop idly from their tasks. No more I care105To make my votive offerings to the gods,Nor, with the Athenian women mingled, danceAround their sacred shrines, and conscious brandsToss high in secret rites. I have no heartWith chaste and pious prayers to worship her,That mighty goddess who was set to guardThis Attic land. My only joy is found110In swift pursuit of fleeing beasts of prey,My soft hands brandishing the heavy spear.But what will come of this? Why do I loveThe forest glades so madly? Ah, I feelThe fatal malady my mother felt;For both have learned within the forest depthsTo sin in love. O mother, now my heart115Doth ache for thee; for, swept away by sinUnspeakable, thou boldly didst conceiveA shameful passion for the savage lordOf the wild herd. Untamable was he,That stern and lustful leader of the flock;And yet he loved. But in my passion's need120What god can help me? Where the DaedalusWho can my love relieve? Should he returnWho shut our monster in the labyrinth,He could not by his well-known Attic skillAvail to save me from this dire mischance.For Venus, filled with deadly hate of us,The stock of Phoebus, seeks through me to avenge125The chains which fettered her in shame to Mars,And all our house with direful love she fills.No princess of our race has ever lovedIn modest wise, but always monstrously.Nurse:O wife of Theseus, glorious child of Jove,Drive from thy modest breast these shameful thoughts.130Put out these flames; and give thyself no hopeOf such dire love as this. Whoe'er at firstHas set himself to fight and conquer love,A safe and easy victory finds. But he,Who dallies with its evil sweets, too lateRefuses to endure the galling yoke135Which he himself has placed upon his neck.I know full well how scornful of the truth,How harsh the swollen pride of princesses,How it refuses to be bent aright.Whatever outcome chance allots, I'll bear;For dawning freedom makes the agéd brave.To will to live uprightly nor to fall140From virtue's ways is best; but next to thisIs sense of shame, the knowing when to stopA sinful course. What, pray, will be the endFor thee, poor mistress? Why dost heap thy houseWith further infamy? Wouldst thou outsinThy mother? For thy impious love is worseThan her unnatural and monstrous love.The first you would impute to character,The last to fate. If, since thy husband sees145No more the realms of earth, thou dost believeThat this thy sin is safe and free from fear,Thou art in error. Grant that he is heldImprisoned fast in Lethe's lowest depths,And must forever feel the bonds of Styx:Would he, thy sire, who by his spreading swayEncroaches on the sea, who gives their laws150Unto a hundred peoples, e'er permitSo great a crime as this to lie unknown?Keen is a parent's watchful care. And yet,Suppose that by our craft and guile we hideThis crime from him: what of thy mother's sire,Who floods the earth with his illuming rays?155And what of him who makes the earth to quake,The bolts of Aetna flashing in his hand,The father of the gods? And dost thou thinkThat it can be that thou couldst hide thy sinFrom these thy grandsires, all-beholding ones?But even should the favor of the gods,Complaisant, hide thy shame from all the world;160Though to thy lust alone should fall that graceDenied to other crimes: still must thou fear.What of that ever-present punishment,The terror of the soul that knows its guilt,Is stained with crime and fearful of itself?Some women have with safety sinned, but noneWith peace of soul. Then quench these flames, I pray,165Of impious love, and shun this monstrous crimeWhich no barbaric land has ever done,No Getan wandering on his lonely plains,No savage Taurian, no Scythian.Expel from thy chaste soul this hideous thing,And, mindful of thy mother's sin, avoid170Such monstrous unions. Wouldst in marriage giveThyself to son and father? Wouldst thou takeIn thine incestuous womb a progenySo basely mixed? Then go the length of sin:O'erthrow all nature with thy shameful fires.Why should the monsters cease? Why empty standsThy brother's labyrinth? Shall all the world175Be shocked with prodigies, shall nature's lawsBe scorned, whene'er a Cretan woman loves?Phaedra:I know that what thou say'st is true, dear nurse;But raging passion forces me to takeThe path of sin. Full consciously my soulGoes headlong on its downward way, ofttimesWith backward glance, sane counsel seeking still,Without avail. So, when the mariner180Would sail his ship against the boisterous waves,His toil is all in vain, and, vanquished quite,The ship drifts onward with the hurrying tide.For what can reason do when passion rules,When love, almighty, dominates the soul?185The wingéd god is lord through all the earth,And with his flames unquenchable the heartOf Jove himself is burned. The god of warHas felt his fire; and Vulcan too, that godWho forges Jove's three-forkéd thunderbolts;Yea, he, who in the hold of Aetna huge190Is lord of ever-blazing furnaces,By this small spark is burned. Apollo, too,Who sends his arrows with unerring aim,Was pierced by Cupid's still more certain darts.For equally in heaven and earth the godIs powerful.Nurse:The god! 'Tis vicious lust195That hath his godhead framed; and, that its endsMore fully may be gained, it has assignedTo its unbridled love the specious name,Divinity! 'Tis Venus' son, in sooth,Sent wandering through all the earth! He fliesThrough empty air and in his boyish hands200His deadly weapon bears! Though least of gods,He holds the widest sway! Such vain conceitsThe love-mad soul adopts, love's goddess feigns,And Cupid's bow. Whoe'er too much enjoysThe smiles of fortune and in ease is lapped,Is ever seeking unaccustomed joys.205Then that dire comrade of a high estate,Inordinate desire, comes in. The feastOf yesterday no longer pleases; nowA home of sane and simple living, food[19]Of humble sort, are odious. Oh, whyDoes this destructive pest so rarely comeTo lowly homes, but chooses rather homes210Of luxury? And why does modest loveBeneath the humble roof abide, and blessWith wholesome intercourse the common throng?Why do the poor restrain their appetites,Whereas the rich, on empire propped, desireMore than is right. Who wields too much of power215Desires to gain what is beyond his power.What is befitting to thy high estateThou knowest well. Then fitting reverence showTo thy returning husband's sovereignty.Phaedra:The sovereignty of love is over me,The highest rule of all. My lord's return,I fear it not; for never more has he,Who once within the silent depths of night220Has plunged, beheld again the light of day.Nurse:Trust not the power of Dis; for though his realmHe closely bar, and though the Stygian dogKeep watch and ward upon the baleful doors,Theseus can always walk forbidden ways.Phaedra:Perchance he'll give indulgence to my love.225Nurse:But he was harsh e'en to a modest wife;His heavy hand Antiope has known.But grant that thou canst bend thy angry lord:Canst bend as well the stubborn soul of him,Hippolytus, who hates the very name230Of womankind? Inexorable his resolveTo spend his life unwedded. He so shunsThe sacred rites of marriage, thou wouldst knowThat he of Amazonian stock was born.Phaedra:Though on the tops of snowy hills he hide,Or swiftly course along the ragged cliffs,Through forests deep, o'er mountains, 'tis my will235To follow him.Nurse:And will he turn again,And yield himself unto thy sweet caress?Or will he lay aside his modestyAt thy vile love's behest? Will he give o'erHis hate of womankind for thee alone,On whose account, perchance, he hates them all?Phaedra:Can he not be by any prayers o'ercome?Nurse:He's wild.240Phaedra:Yes, but the beasts are tamed by love.Nurse:He'll flee.Phaedra:Through Ocean's self I'll follow him.Nurse:Thy sire remember.Phaedra:And my mother too.Nurse:Women he hates.Phaedra:Then I'll no rival fear.Nurse:Thy husband comes.Phaedra:With him Pirithoüs!Nurse:Thy sire!245Phaedra:To Ariadne he was kind.Nurse:O child, by these white locks of age, I pray,This care-filled heart, these breasts that suckled thee,Put off this rage; to thine own rescue come.The greater part of life is will to live.Phaedra:Shame has not wholly fled my noble soul.250I yield: let love, which will not be controlled,Be conquered. Nor shalt thou, fair fame, be stained.This way alone is left, sole hope of woe:Theseus I'll follow, and by death shun sin.Nurse:Oh, check, my child, this wild, impetuous thought;255Be calm. For now I think thee worthy life,Because thou hast condemned thyself to death.Phaedra:I am resolved to die, and only seekThe mode of death. Shall I my spirit freeBy twisted rope, or fall upon the sword,Or shall I leap from yonder citadel?260Nurse:Shall my old age permit thee thus to dieSelf-slain? Thy deadly, raging purpose stay.No one may easily come back to life.Phaedra:No argument can stay the will of one265Who has resolved to die, and ought to die.Quick, let me arm myself in honor's cause.Nurse:Sole comfort of my weary age, my child,If such unruly passion sways thy heart,Away with reputation! 'Tis a thingWhich rarely with reality agrees;It smiles upon the ill-deserving man,270And from the good withholds his meed of praise.Let us make trial of that stubborn soul.Mine be the task to approach the savage youth,And bend his will relentless to our own.Chorus:Thou goddess, child of the foaming sea,Thou mother of love, how fierce are the flames,275And how sharp are the darts of thy petulant boy;How deadly of aim his bow.Deep to the heart the poison sinksWhen the veins are imbued with his hidden flame;280No gaping wound upon the breastDoes his arrow leave; but far withinIt burns with consuming fire.No peace or rest does he give; world wideAre his flying weapons sown abroad:The shores that see the rising sun,285And the land that lies at the goal of the west;The south where raging Cancer glows,And the land of the cold Arcadian BearWith its ever-wandering tribes—all knowAnd have felt the fires of love.290The hot blood of youth he rouses to madness,The smouldering embers of age he rekindles,And even the innocent breasts of maidsAre stirred by passion unknown.He bids the immortals desert the skiesAnd dwell on the earth in forms assumed.295For love, Apollo kept the herdsOf Thessaly's king, and, his lyre unused,He called to his bulls on the gentle pipe.How oft has Jove himself put onThe lower forms of life, who rulesThe sky and the clouds. Now a bird he seems,300With white wings hovering, with voiceMore sweet than the song of the dying swan;Now with lowering front, as a wanton bull,He offers his back to the sport of maids;And soon through his brother's waves he floats,305With his hoofs like sturdy oars, and his breastStoutly opposing the waves, in fearFor the captured maid he bears. For love,The shining goddess of the nightHer dim skies left, and her glittering car310To her brother allotted to guide. UntrainedIn managing the dusky steeds,Within a shorter circuit nowHe learns to direct his course. MeanwhileThe nights no more their accustomed spaceRetained, and the dawn came slowly back,315Since 'neath a heavier burden nowThe axle trembled. Love compelledAlcmena's son to lay asideHis quiver and the threat'ning spoilOf that great lion's skin he bore,And have his fingers set with gems,His shaggy locks in order dressed.320His limbs were wrapped in cloth of gold,His feet with yellow sandals bound;And with that hand which bore but nowThe mighty club, he wound the threadWhich from his mistress' spindle fell.The sight all Persia saw, and they325Who dwell in Lydia's fertile realm—The savage lion's skin laid by,And on those shoulders, once the propFor heaven's vast dome, a gauzy cloakOf Tyrian manufacture spread.Accursed is love, its victims know,330And all too strong. In every land,In the all-encircling briny deep,In the airy heavens where the bright stars course,There pitiless love holds sway.The sea-green band of the Nereids335Have felt his darts in their deepest waves,And the waters of ocean cannot quenchTheir flames. The birds know the passion of love,And mighty bulls, with its fire inflamed,Wage furious battle, while the herd340Look on in wonder. Even stags,Though timorous of heart, will fightIf for their mates they fear, while loudResound the snortings of their wrath.When with love the striped tigers burn,The swarthy Indian cowers in fear.345For love the boar whets his deadly tusksAnd his huge mouth is white with foam.The African lions toss their manesWhen love inflames their hearts, and the woodsResound with their savage roars.350The monsters of the raging deep,And those great beasts, the elephants,Feel the sway of love; since nature's powerClaims everything, and nothing spares.Hate perishes when love commands,And ancient feuds yield to his touch.355Why need I more his sway approve,When even stepdames yield to love?FOOTNOTES:[19]Reading,cibus.ACT II[EnterNursefrom the palace.]Chorus:Speak, nurse, the news thou bring'st. How fares the queen?Do her fierce fires of love know any end?Nurse:I have no hope that such a malady360Can be relieved; her maddened passion's flamesWill endless burn. A hidden, silent fireConsumes her, and her raging love, though shutWithin her heart, is by her face betrayed.Her eyes dart fire; anon, her sunken gazeAvoids the light of day. Her restless soul365Can find no pleasure long in anything.Her aimless love allows her limbs no rest.Now, as with dying, tottering steps, she goes,And scarce can hold her nodding head erect;And now lies down to sleep. But, sleepless quite,She spends the night in tears. Now does she bidMe lift her up, and straight to lay her down;370To loose her locks, and bind them up again.In restless mood she constantly demandsFresh robes. She has no care for food or health.With failing strength she walks, with aimless feet.375Her old-time strength is gone; no longer shinesThe ruddy glow of health upon her face.Care feeds upon her limbs; her trembling stepsBetray her weakness, and the tender graceOf her once blooming beauty is no more.Her eyes, which once with Phoebus' brilliance shone,No longer gleam with their ancestral fires.380Her tears flow ever, and her cheeks are wetWith constant rain; as when, on Taurus' top,The snows are melted by a warming shower.But look, the palace doors are opening,And she, reclining on her couch of gold,385And sick of soul, refuses one by oneThe customary garments of her state.Phaedra:Remove, ye slaves, those bright and gold-wrought robes;Away with Tyrian purple, and the websOf silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribesFrom leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes;390I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls,The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears.No nard from far Assyria shall scentMy locks; thus loosely tossing let them fallAround my neck and shoulders; let them streamUpon the wind, by my swift running stirred.395Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt,And in my right hand will I brandish freeA hunting-spear of Thessaly; for thusThe mother of Hippolytus was clad.So did she lead her hosts from the frozen shoresOf Pontus, when to Attica she came,400From distant Tanaïs or Maeotis' banks,Her comely locks down flowing from a knot,Her side protected by a crescent shield.Like her would I betake me to the woods.Chorus:Cease thy laments, for grief will not availThe wretched. Rather seek to appease the will405Of that wild virgin goddess of the woods.Nurse[toDiana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st aloneOn mountain tops, and thou who only artWithin their desert haunts adored, convert,We pray, to better issue these sad fears.O mighty goddess of the woods and groves,Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night,410Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumesThe sky, thou three-formed Hecate—Oh, smile,We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soulOf stern Hippolytus subdue for us.Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flameMay he endure. May he give ready earTo our request. His hard and stubborn heart415Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind.Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce,May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws.Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy faceBe ever clear, and through the rifted cloudsMayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright;So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky,420May no Thessalian mummeries prevailTo draw thee from thy nightly journey down;And may no shepherd boast himself of thee.Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer;[Hippolytusis seen approaching.]I see Hippolytus himself, alone,Approaching to perform the yearly ritesTo Dian due.425[To herself.]Why dost thou hesitate?Both time and place are given by fortune's lot.Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear?It is no easy task to do the deedEnjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen,Must banish from her heart all thought of right;For sense of shame ill serves a royal will.430[EnterHippolytus.]Hippolytus:Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet,O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad,Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sireIn safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.Nurse:Thou need'st not fear for them; the kingdom stands435In prosperous estate, and all thy houseRejoices in the blessings of the gods.But Oh, do thou with greater kindness lookUpon thy fortune. For my heart is vexedAnd anxious for thy sake; for thou thyselfWith grievous sufferings dost bruise thy soul.If fate compels it, one may be forgiven440For wretchedness; but if, of his own will,A man prefers to live in misery,Brings tortures on himself, then he deservesTo lose those gifts he knows not how to use.Be mindful of thy youth; relax thy mind.Lift high the blazing torch on festal nights;Let Bacchus free thee from thy weighty cares;445Enjoy this time which speeds so swiftly by.Now is the time when love comes easily,And smiles on youth. Come, let thy soul rejoice.Why dost thou lie upon a lonely couch?Dissolve in pleasures that grim mood of thine,And snatch the passing joys;[20]let loose the reins.450Forbid that these, the best days of thy life,Should vanish unenjoyed. Its proper hueHas God allotted to each time of life,And leads from step to step the age of man.So joy becomes the young, a face severeThe agéd. Why dost thou restrain thyself,And strangle at their birth the joys of life?That crop rewards the farmer's labor most455Which in the young and tender sprouting-timeRuns riot in the fields. With lofty topThat tree will overspread the neighboring grove,Which no begrudging hand cuts back or prunes.So do our inborn powers a richer fruitOf praise and glory bear, if liberty,Unchecked and boundless, feed the noble soul.460Thou, harsh, uncouth, and ignorant of life,Dost spend thy youth to joy and love unknown.Think'st thou that this is man's allotted task,To suffer hardships, curb the rushing steeds,And fight like savage beasts in bloody war?465When he beheld the boundless greed of death,The mighty father of the world ordainedA means by which the race might be renewed.Suppose the power of Venus over menShould cease, who doth supply and still renew470The stream of life, then would this lovely worldBecome a foul, unsightly thing indeed:The sea would bear no fish within its waves,The woods no beasts of prey, the air no birds;But through its empty space the winds aloneWould rove. How various the forms of death475That seize and feed upon our mortal race:The wrecking sea, the sword, and treachery!But say that these are lacking: still we fallOf our own gravity to gloomy Styx.Suppose our youth should choose a mateless life,And live in childless state: then all this worldOf teeming life which thou dost see, would liveThis generation only, and would fall480In ruins on itself. Then spend thy lifeAs nature doth direct; frequent the town,And live in friendly union with thy kind.Hippolytus:There is no life so free, so innocent,Which better cherishes the ancient rites,Than that which spurns the crowded ways of menAnd seeks the silent places of the woods.485His soul no maddening greed of gain inflamesWho on the lofty levels of the hillsHis blameless pleasures finds. No fickle breathOf passing favor frets him here, no stingOf base ingratitude, no poisonous hate.He fears no kingdom's laws; nor, in the quest490Of power, does he pursue the phantom shapesOf fame and wealth. From hope and fear alikeIs he removed. No black and biting spiteWith base, malicious tooth preys on him here.He never hears of those base, shameful thingsThat spawn amid the city's teeming throngs.It is not his with guilty heart to quakeAt every sound; he need not hide his thoughts495With guileful words; in pride of sinful wealthHe seeks to own no lordly palace proppedUpon a thousand pillars, with its beamsIn flaunting arrogance incased with gold.No streams of blood his pious altars drench;No hecatombs of snowy bullocks stand500Foredoomed to death, their foreheads sprinkled o'erWith sacred meal; but in the spacious fields,Beneath the sky, in fearless innocence,He wanders lord of all. His only guile,To set the cunning snare for beasts of pray;And, when o'erspent with labors of the chase,He soothes his body in the shining streamOf cool Ilissus. Now swift Alpheus' banks505He skirts, and now the lofty forest's deep,Dense places treads, where Lerna, clear and cool,Pours forth her glimmering streams.Here twittering birds make all the woods resound,And through the branches of the ancient beechThe leaves are all a-flutter in the breeze.510How sweet upon some vagrant river's bank,Or on the verdant turf, to lie at length,And quaff one's fill of deep, delicious sleep,Whether in hurrying floods some copious streamPours down its waves, or through the vernal flowersSome murmuring brook sings sweetly as it flows.The windfall apples of the wood appease515His hunger, while the ripening berries pluckedFrom wayside thickets grant an easy meal.He gladly shuns the luxuries of kings.Let mighty lords from anxious cups of goldTheir nectar quaff; for him how sweet to catchWith naked hand the water of the spring!520More certain slumber soothes him, though his couchBe hard, if free from care he lay him down.With guilty soul he seeks no shameful deedsIn nooks remote upon some hidden couch,Nor timorous hides in labyrinthine cell;He courts the open air and light of day,And lives before the conscious eye of heaven.525Such was the life, I think, the ancients lived,Those primal men who mingled with the gods.They were not blinded by the love of gold;No sacred stone divided off the fieldsAnd lotted each his own in judgment there.Nor yet did vessels rashly plow the seas;530But each his native waters knew alone.Then cities were not girt with massive walls,With frequent towers set; no soldier thereTo savage arms his hands applied, nor burstThe close-barred gates with huge and heavy stonesFrom ponderous engines hurled. As yet the earth535Endured no master's rule, nor felt the swayOf laboring oxen yoked in common toil;But all the fields, self-fruitful, fed mankind,Who took and asked no more. The woods gave wealth,And shady grottoes natural homes supplied.Unholy greed first broke these peaceful bonds,540And headlong wrath, and lust which sets aflameThe hearts of men. Then came the cruel thirstFor empire; and the weak became the preyOf strong, and might was counted right. At firstMen fought with naked fists, but soon they turned545Rough clubs and stones to use of arms. Not yetWere cornel spears with slender points of iron,And long, sharp-pointed swords, and crested helms.Such weapons wrath invented. Warlike MarsProduced new arts of strife, and forms of death550In countless numbers made. Thence streams of goreStained every land, and reddened every sea.Then crime, o'erleaping every bound, ran wild;Invaded every home. No hideous deedWas left undone: but brothers by the hand555Of brothers fell, parents by children's hands,Husbands by wives', and impious mothers killedTheir helpless babes. Stepmothers need no words;The very beasts are kind compared with them.Of all these evils woman was the cause,The leader she. She with her wicked artsBesets the minds of men; and all for her560And her vile, lustful ways, unnumbered townsLie low in smoking heaps; whole nations rushTo arms; and kingdoms, utterly o'erthrown,Drag down their ruined peoples in their fall.Though I should name no other, Aegeus' wifeWould prove all womankind a curséd race.Nurse:Why blame all women for the crimes of few?565Hippolytus:I hate them all. I dread and shun and curseThem all. Whether from reason, instinct, blindAnd causeless madness, this I know—I hate.And sooner shall you fire and water wed;Sooner shall dangerous quicksands friendly turnAnd give safe anchorage; and sooner far570Shall Tethys from her utmost western boundsBring forth the shining day, and savage wolvesSmile kindly on the timid does, than I,O'ercome, feel ought but hate to womankind.Nurse:But oft doth love put reins on stubborn souls,And all their hatred to affection turns.575Behold thy mother's realm of warlike dames;Yet even they the sway of passion know.Of this thy birth itself is proof enough.Hippolytus:My comfort for my mother's loss is this,That now I'm free to hate all womankind.Nurse:As some hard crag, on every side unmoved,580Resists the waves, and dashes backward farThe opposing floods, so he doth spurn my words.But hither Phaedra comes with hasty step,Impatient of delay. What fate is hers?Or to what action doth her madness tend?[Phaedraenters and falls fainting to the earth.]But see, in sudden fainting fit she falls,585And deathlike pallor overspreads her face.[Hippolytushastens to raise her up in his arms.]Lift up thy face, speak out, my daughter, see,Thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.Phaedra[recovering from her faint]: Who gives me back to griefs, and floods againMy soul with heavy care? How well for meHad I sunk down to death!590Hippolytus:But why, poor soul,Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?Phaedra[aside]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command.Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fearSuggests a prompt refusal. Even nowThe greater part of my offense is done.Too late my present modesty. My love,595I know, is base; but if I persevere,Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin.Success makes certain sins respectable.Come now, begin.[ToHippolytus].Bend lower down thine ear,I pray; if any comrade be at hand,Let him depart, that we may speak alone.600Hippolytus:Behold, the place is free from witnesses.Phaedra:My lips refuse to speak my waiting words;A mighty force compels my utterance,A mightier holds it back. Ye heavenly powers,I call ye all to witness, what I wish—605Hippolytus:Thy heart desires and cannot tell its wish?Phaedra:Light cares speak out, the weighty have no words.Hippolytus:Into my ears, my mother, tell thy cares.Phaedra:The name of mother is too proud and high;My heart dictates some humbler name than that.610Pray call me sister—slave, Hippolytus.Yes, slave I'd be. I'll bear all servitude;And shouldst thou bid me tread the driven snows,To walk along high Pindus' frozen peaks,I'd not refuse; no, not if thou shouldst bidMe go through fire, and serried ranks of foes,615I would not hesitate to bare my breastUnto the naked swords. Take thou the powerWhich was consigned to me. Make me thy slave.Rule thou the state, and let me subject be.It is no woman's task to guard this realmOf many towns. Do thou, who in the flower620Of youth rejoicest, rule the citizensWith strong paternal sway. But me receiveInto thy arms, and there protect thy slaveAnd suppliant. My widowhood relieve.Hippolytus:May God on high this omen dark avert!My father will in safety soon return.Phaedra:Not so: the king of that fast-holding realm625And silent Styx has never opened backThe doors of earth to those who once have leftThe realms above. Think'st thou that he will looseThe ravisher of his couch? Unless, indeed,Grim Pluto has at last grown mild to love.Hippolytus:The righteous gods of heaven will bring him back.But while the gods still hold our prayers in doubt,630My brothers will I make my pious care,And thee as well. Think not thou art bereft;For I will fill for thee my father's place.Phaedra[aside]: Oh, hope of lovers, easily beguiled!Deceitful love! Has he[21]not said enough?635I'll ply him now with prayers.[ToHippolytus.]Oh, pity me.Hear thou the prayers which I must only think.I long to utter them, but am ashamed.Hippolytus:What is thy trouble then?Phaedra:A trouble mine,Which thou wouldst scarce believe could vex the soulOf any stepdame.Hippolytus:Speak more openly;In doubtful words thy meaning thou dost wrap.Phaedra:My maddened heart with burning love is scorched;640My inmost marrow is devoured with love;And through my veins and vitals steals the fire,As when the flames through roomy holds of shipsRun darting.645Hippolytus:Surely with a modest loveFor Theseus thou dost burn.Phaedra:Hippolytus,'Tis thus with me: I love those former looksOf Theseus, which in early manhood onceHe wore, when first a beard began to showUpon his modest cheeks, what time he sawThe Cretan monster's hidden lurking-place,And by a thread his labyrinthine way650Retraced. Oh, what a glorious sight he was!Soft fillets held in check his flowing locks,And modesty upon his tender faceGlowed blushing red. His soft-appearing armsBut half concealed his muscles' manly strength.His face was like thy heavenly Phoebe's face,Or my Apollo's, or 'twas like thine own.655Like thee, like thee he was when first he pleasedHis enemy. Just so he proudly heldHis head erect; still more in thee shines outThat beauty unadorned; in thee I findThy father all. And yet thy mother's sternAnd lofty beauty has some share in thee;Her Scythian firmness tempers Grecian grace.660If with thy father thou hadst sailed to Crete,My sister would have spun the thread for theeAnd not for him. O sister, wheresoe'erIn heaven's starry vault thou shinest, thee,Oh, thee I call to aid my hapless cause,So like thine own. One house has overthrown665Two sisters, thee the father, me the son.[ToHippolytus.]Behold, as suppliant, fallen to thy knees,A royal princess kneels. Without a spotOf sin, unstained and innocent, was I;And thou alone hast wrought the change in me.See at thy feet I kneel and pray, resolvedThis day shall end my misery or life.670Oh, pity her who loves thee—Hippolytus:God in heaven,Great ruler of all gods, dost thou this sinSo calmly hear, so calmly see? If nowThou hurlest not thy bolt with deadly hand,What shameful cause will ever send it forth?Let all the sky in shattered ruins fall,And hide the light of day in murky clouds.675Let stars turn back, and trace again their courseAthwart their proper ways. And thou, great starOf stars, thou radiant Sun, let not thine eyesBehold the impious shame of this thy stock;But hide thy face, and to the darkness fleeWhy is thy hand, O king of gods and men,680Inactive? Why by forkéd lightning's brandsIs not the world in flames? Direct thy boltsAt me; pierce me. Let that fierce darting flameConsume me quite, for mine is all the blame.I ought to die, for I have favor foundIn my stepmother's eyes.[ToPhaedra.]Did I seem oneTo thee to do this vile and shameful thing?Did I seem easy fuel to thy fire,685I only? Has my virtuous life deservedSuch estimate? Thou, worse than all thy kind!Thou woman, who hast in thy heart conceivedA deed more shameful than thy mother's sin,Whose womb gave monstrous birth; thou worse than she!She stained herself with vilest lust, and long690Concealed the deed. But all in vain: at last,Her two-formed child revealed his mother's crime,And by his fierce bull-visage proved her guilt.Of such a womb and mother art thou born.Oh, thrice and four times blesséd is their lotWhom hate and treachery give o'er and doom695To death. O father, how I envy thee!Thy stepdame was the Colchian; but this,This woman is a greater curse than she.Phaedra:I clearly see the destiny of my house:We follow ever what we should avoid.But I have given over self-control;I'll follow thee through fire, through raging sea,700O'er ragged cliffs, through roaring torrents wild—Wherever thou dost go, in mad pursuitI shall be borne. Again, O haughty one,I fall in suppliance and embrace thy knees.Hippolytus:Away from my chaste body with thy touchImpure! What more? She falls upon my breast!705I'll draw my sword and smite as she deserves.See, by her twisted locks, I backward bendHer shameless head. No blood more worthilyWas ever spilled, O goddess of the bow,Upon thy altars.Phaedra:Now, Hippolytus,710Thou dost fulfil the fondest wish of mine;Thou sav'st me from my madness; greater farThan all my hopes, that by the hands I love,By thine own hands, I perish ere I sin.Hippolytus:Then live, be gone! Thou shalt gain naught from me.And this my sword, defiled by thy base touch,No more shall hang upon my modest side.[He throws his sword from him.]What Tanaïs will make me clean again?715Or what Maeotis rushing to the sea,With its barbaric waves? Not Neptune's self,With all his ocean's waters could availTo cleanse so foul a stain. O woods! O beasts![He rushes off into the depths of the forest.]

FOOTNOTES:[18]Reading,restituet.

[18]Reading,restituet.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The sceneis laid throughout in the court in front of the royal palace at Athens; and the action is confined to the space of one day.

Theseus had wed Antiope, the Amazon, and of their union had been born Hippolytus. This youth grew up to love the chase, austere and beautiful, shunning the haunts of men, and scorning the love of women. Theseus had meanwhile slain Antiope, and married Phaedra, Cretan Minos' child.

And now, for four years past, the king has not been seen upon the earth, for, following the mad adventure of his bosom friend, Pirithoüs, he has descended into Tartara, and thence, men think, he never will return.

Deserted by her lord, the hapless Phaedra has conceived a hopeless passion for Hippolytus; for Venus, mindful of that ancient shame, which Phaedra's ancestor, Apollo, had exposed, has sent this madness on her, even as Pasiphaë, her mother, had been cursed with a most mad and fatal malady.

Hippolytus[in hunting costume, assigning duties and places to his servants and companions of the hunt]: Up comrades, and the shadowy grovesWith nets encircle; swiftly rangeThe heights of our Cecropian hills;Scour well those coverts on the slopesOf Parnes, or in Thria's vale5Whose chattering streamlet roars alongIn rapid course; go climb the hillsWhose peaks are ever white with snowsOf Scythia. Let others goWhere woods with lofty alders stand10In dense array; where pastures lieWhose springing grass is waked to lifeBy Zephyr's breath, dew laden. Go,Where calm Ilissus flows alongThe level fields, a sluggish stream,15Whose winding course the barren sandsWith niggard water laps. Go yeAlong the leftward-leading way,Where Marathon her forest gladesReveals, where nightly with their youngThe suckling mothers feed. Do you,20Where, softened by the warming windsFrom southern lands, Acharnae meltsHis snows, repair; let others seekHymettus' rocky slopes, far famedFor honey; others still the gladesOf small Aphidnae. All too longThat region has unharried lain25Where Sunium with its jutting shoreThrusts out the curving sea.If any feels the forest's lure,Him Phlye calls, where dwells the boarNow scarred and known by many a wound,The farmers' fear.30Now free the dogs from straining leash,That hunt in silence; but the houndsOf keen Molossian breed hold fastIn check; let the savage Cretans strainWith chaffing necks upon their chains;The Spartans hold in strongest curb,35With caution bind, for bold their breed,And eager for the prey.The time will come when their baying loudThrough the hollow rocks shall echo; nowLet them snuff the air with nostrils keen,And with lowered muzzles seek the tracks40Of beasts, while yet the dawn is dim,And while the dewy earth still holdsThe marks of treading feet. Let someOn burdened necks the wide nets bear,And others haste to bring the snares45Of smooth-wrought cords. Let feathers, dyedWith crimson, hedge the timid deerWith terrors vain. Do thou use dartsOf Crete, and thou the heavy spearBy both hands wielded. Thou shalt sit50In hiding and with clamors loudDrive out the frightened beasts; and thou,When all is done, with curving bladeShalt break the victims.And thou, be with thy worshiper,O goddess of the chase, whose rule55Extends o'er all the secret hauntsOf earth; whose darts unerring pierceThe flying prey; whose thirst is quenchedBy cool Araxes' distant stream,Or for whose sport the Ister spreadsHis frozen waves. Thy hand pursues60Gaetulian lions, Cretan deer;And now the swiftly fleeing doesWith lighter stroke are pierced. To theeThe spotted tigers yield, to theeThe bisons, shaggy backed, and the wild,Broad-hornéd oxen of the woods.65Whatever feeds upon the plainsIn desert pasture lands; whate'erThe needy Garamantian knows,Whate'er the Arab rich in woods,Or wild Sarmatian, wandering freeAcross the lonely wilderness;70Whate'er the rugged PyreneesOr deep Hyrcanian glades conceal:All fear thy bow, thou huntress queen.If any worshiper of thineTakes to the hunt thy favoring will,His nets hold fast the struggling prey;75No birds break from his snares; for himThe groaning wagons homeward comeWith booty rich; the hounds come backWith muzzles deeply dyed in blood,And all the rustic throng returnsIn shouting triumph home.80But lo, the goddess hears. The houndsAre baying loud and clear to announceThe start. I'm summoned to the woods.Here, here I'll hasten where the roadMost quickly leads away.

Hippolytus[in hunting costume, assigning duties and places to his servants and companions of the hunt]: Up comrades, and the shadowy groves

With nets encircle; swiftly range

The heights of our Cecropian hills;

Scour well those coverts on the slopes

Of Parnes, or in Thria's vale5

Whose chattering streamlet roars along

In rapid course; go climb the hills

Whose peaks are ever white with snows

Of Scythia. Let others go

Where woods with lofty alders stand10

In dense array; where pastures lie

Whose springing grass is waked to life

By Zephyr's breath, dew laden. Go,

Where calm Ilissus flows along

The level fields, a sluggish stream,15

Whose winding course the barren sands

With niggard water laps. Go ye

Along the leftward-leading way,

Where Marathon her forest glades

Reveals, where nightly with their young

The suckling mothers feed. Do you,20

Where, softened by the warming winds

From southern lands, Acharnae melts

His snows, repair; let others seek

Hymettus' rocky slopes, far famed

For honey; others still the glades

Of small Aphidnae. All too long

That region has unharried lain25

Where Sunium with its jutting shore

Thrusts out the curving sea.

If any feels the forest's lure,

Him Phlye calls, where dwells the boar

Now scarred and known by many a wound,

The farmers' fear.30

Now free the dogs from straining leash,

That hunt in silence; but the hounds

Of keen Molossian breed hold fast

In check; let the savage Cretans strain

With chaffing necks upon their chains;

The Spartans hold in strongest curb,35

With caution bind, for bold their breed,

And eager for the prey.

The time will come when their baying loud

Through the hollow rocks shall echo; now

Let them snuff the air with nostrils keen,

And with lowered muzzles seek the tracks40

Of beasts, while yet the dawn is dim,

And while the dewy earth still holds

The marks of treading feet. Let some

On burdened necks the wide nets bear,

And others haste to bring the snares45

Of smooth-wrought cords. Let feathers, dyed

With crimson, hedge the timid deer

With terrors vain. Do thou use darts

Of Crete, and thou the heavy spear

By both hands wielded. Thou shalt sit50

In hiding and with clamors loud

Drive out the frightened beasts; and thou,

When all is done, with curving blade

Shalt break the victims.

And thou, be with thy worshiper,

O goddess of the chase, whose rule55

Extends o'er all the secret haunts

Of earth; whose darts unerring pierce

The flying prey; whose thirst is quenched

By cool Araxes' distant stream,

Or for whose sport the Ister spreads

His frozen waves. Thy hand pursues60

Gaetulian lions, Cretan deer;

And now the swiftly fleeing does

With lighter stroke are pierced. To thee

The spotted tigers yield, to thee

The bisons, shaggy backed, and the wild,

Broad-hornéd oxen of the woods.65

Whatever feeds upon the plains

In desert pasture lands; whate'er

The needy Garamantian knows,

Whate'er the Arab rich in woods,

Or wild Sarmatian, wandering free

Across the lonely wilderness;70

Whate'er the rugged Pyrenees

Or deep Hyrcanian glades conceal:

All fear thy bow, thou huntress queen.

If any worshiper of thine

Takes to the hunt thy favoring will,

His nets hold fast the struggling prey;75

No birds break from his snares; for him

The groaning wagons homeward come

With booty rich; the hounds come back

With muzzles deeply dyed in blood,

And all the rustic throng returns

In shouting triumph home.80

But lo, the goddess hears. The hounds

Are baying loud and clear to announce

The start. I'm summoned to the woods.

Here, here I'll hasten where the road

Most quickly leads away.

[Exit.]

Phaedra:O mighty Crete, thou mistress of the deep,85Whose ships uncounted sail through every seaWherever Nereus shows their beaks the way,E'en to Assyria's shores; why dost thou hereCompel me thus in woe and tears to live,A hostage given to the hated foe,90And to a foeman wed? Behold my lord,Deserting me, his bride, is far away,And keeps his wonted faith. Through shadows deepOf that dark pool which may not be recrossed,This doughty follower of a madcap princeHas gone, that from the very throne of Dis95He might seduce and bear away his queen.With such mad folly linked he went away,Restrained by neither fear nor shame. And so,In deepest Acheron, illicit loveThis father of Hippolytus desires.But other, greater griefs than this oppressMy sorrowing soul; no quiet rest by night,100No slumber deep comes to dissolve my cares;But woe is fed and grows within my heart,And there burns hot as Aetna's raging fires.My loom stands empty and my listless handsDrop idly from their tasks. No more I care105To make my votive offerings to the gods,Nor, with the Athenian women mingled, danceAround their sacred shrines, and conscious brandsToss high in secret rites. I have no heartWith chaste and pious prayers to worship her,That mighty goddess who was set to guardThis Attic land. My only joy is found110In swift pursuit of fleeing beasts of prey,My soft hands brandishing the heavy spear.But what will come of this? Why do I loveThe forest glades so madly? Ah, I feelThe fatal malady my mother felt;For both have learned within the forest depthsTo sin in love. O mother, now my heart115Doth ache for thee; for, swept away by sinUnspeakable, thou boldly didst conceiveA shameful passion for the savage lordOf the wild herd. Untamable was he,That stern and lustful leader of the flock;And yet he loved. But in my passion's need120What god can help me? Where the DaedalusWho can my love relieve? Should he returnWho shut our monster in the labyrinth,He could not by his well-known Attic skillAvail to save me from this dire mischance.For Venus, filled with deadly hate of us,The stock of Phoebus, seeks through me to avenge125The chains which fettered her in shame to Mars,And all our house with direful love she fills.No princess of our race has ever lovedIn modest wise, but always monstrously.Nurse:O wife of Theseus, glorious child of Jove,Drive from thy modest breast these shameful thoughts.130Put out these flames; and give thyself no hopeOf such dire love as this. Whoe'er at firstHas set himself to fight and conquer love,A safe and easy victory finds. But he,Who dallies with its evil sweets, too lateRefuses to endure the galling yoke135Which he himself has placed upon his neck.I know full well how scornful of the truth,How harsh the swollen pride of princesses,How it refuses to be bent aright.Whatever outcome chance allots, I'll bear;For dawning freedom makes the agéd brave.To will to live uprightly nor to fall140From virtue's ways is best; but next to thisIs sense of shame, the knowing when to stopA sinful course. What, pray, will be the endFor thee, poor mistress? Why dost heap thy houseWith further infamy? Wouldst thou outsinThy mother? For thy impious love is worseThan her unnatural and monstrous love.The first you would impute to character,The last to fate. If, since thy husband sees145No more the realms of earth, thou dost believeThat this thy sin is safe and free from fear,Thou art in error. Grant that he is heldImprisoned fast in Lethe's lowest depths,And must forever feel the bonds of Styx:Would he, thy sire, who by his spreading swayEncroaches on the sea, who gives their laws150Unto a hundred peoples, e'er permitSo great a crime as this to lie unknown?Keen is a parent's watchful care. And yet,Suppose that by our craft and guile we hideThis crime from him: what of thy mother's sire,Who floods the earth with his illuming rays?155And what of him who makes the earth to quake,The bolts of Aetna flashing in his hand,The father of the gods? And dost thou thinkThat it can be that thou couldst hide thy sinFrom these thy grandsires, all-beholding ones?But even should the favor of the gods,Complaisant, hide thy shame from all the world;160Though to thy lust alone should fall that graceDenied to other crimes: still must thou fear.What of that ever-present punishment,The terror of the soul that knows its guilt,Is stained with crime and fearful of itself?Some women have with safety sinned, but noneWith peace of soul. Then quench these flames, I pray,165Of impious love, and shun this monstrous crimeWhich no barbaric land has ever done,No Getan wandering on his lonely plains,No savage Taurian, no Scythian.Expel from thy chaste soul this hideous thing,And, mindful of thy mother's sin, avoid170Such monstrous unions. Wouldst in marriage giveThyself to son and father? Wouldst thou takeIn thine incestuous womb a progenySo basely mixed? Then go the length of sin:O'erthrow all nature with thy shameful fires.Why should the monsters cease? Why empty standsThy brother's labyrinth? Shall all the world175Be shocked with prodigies, shall nature's lawsBe scorned, whene'er a Cretan woman loves?Phaedra:I know that what thou say'st is true, dear nurse;But raging passion forces me to takeThe path of sin. Full consciously my soulGoes headlong on its downward way, ofttimesWith backward glance, sane counsel seeking still,Without avail. So, when the mariner180Would sail his ship against the boisterous waves,His toil is all in vain, and, vanquished quite,The ship drifts onward with the hurrying tide.For what can reason do when passion rules,When love, almighty, dominates the soul?185The wingéd god is lord through all the earth,And with his flames unquenchable the heartOf Jove himself is burned. The god of warHas felt his fire; and Vulcan too, that godWho forges Jove's three-forkéd thunderbolts;Yea, he, who in the hold of Aetna huge190Is lord of ever-blazing furnaces,By this small spark is burned. Apollo, too,Who sends his arrows with unerring aim,Was pierced by Cupid's still more certain darts.For equally in heaven and earth the godIs powerful.Nurse:The god! 'Tis vicious lust195That hath his godhead framed; and, that its endsMore fully may be gained, it has assignedTo its unbridled love the specious name,Divinity! 'Tis Venus' son, in sooth,Sent wandering through all the earth! He fliesThrough empty air and in his boyish hands200His deadly weapon bears! Though least of gods,He holds the widest sway! Such vain conceitsThe love-mad soul adopts, love's goddess feigns,And Cupid's bow. Whoe'er too much enjoysThe smiles of fortune and in ease is lapped,Is ever seeking unaccustomed joys.205Then that dire comrade of a high estate,Inordinate desire, comes in. The feastOf yesterday no longer pleases; nowA home of sane and simple living, food[19]Of humble sort, are odious. Oh, whyDoes this destructive pest so rarely comeTo lowly homes, but chooses rather homes210Of luxury? And why does modest loveBeneath the humble roof abide, and blessWith wholesome intercourse the common throng?Why do the poor restrain their appetites,Whereas the rich, on empire propped, desireMore than is right. Who wields too much of power215Desires to gain what is beyond his power.What is befitting to thy high estateThou knowest well. Then fitting reverence showTo thy returning husband's sovereignty.Phaedra:The sovereignty of love is over me,The highest rule of all. My lord's return,I fear it not; for never more has he,Who once within the silent depths of night220Has plunged, beheld again the light of day.Nurse:Trust not the power of Dis; for though his realmHe closely bar, and though the Stygian dogKeep watch and ward upon the baleful doors,Theseus can always walk forbidden ways.Phaedra:Perchance he'll give indulgence to my love.225Nurse:But he was harsh e'en to a modest wife;His heavy hand Antiope has known.But grant that thou canst bend thy angry lord:Canst bend as well the stubborn soul of him,Hippolytus, who hates the very name230Of womankind? Inexorable his resolveTo spend his life unwedded. He so shunsThe sacred rites of marriage, thou wouldst knowThat he of Amazonian stock was born.Phaedra:Though on the tops of snowy hills he hide,Or swiftly course along the ragged cliffs,Through forests deep, o'er mountains, 'tis my will235To follow him.Nurse:And will he turn again,And yield himself unto thy sweet caress?Or will he lay aside his modestyAt thy vile love's behest? Will he give o'erHis hate of womankind for thee alone,On whose account, perchance, he hates them all?Phaedra:Can he not be by any prayers o'ercome?Nurse:He's wild.240Phaedra:Yes, but the beasts are tamed by love.Nurse:He'll flee.Phaedra:Through Ocean's self I'll follow him.Nurse:Thy sire remember.Phaedra:And my mother too.Nurse:Women he hates.Phaedra:Then I'll no rival fear.Nurse:Thy husband comes.Phaedra:With him Pirithoüs!Nurse:Thy sire!245Phaedra:To Ariadne he was kind.Nurse:O child, by these white locks of age, I pray,This care-filled heart, these breasts that suckled thee,Put off this rage; to thine own rescue come.The greater part of life is will to live.Phaedra:Shame has not wholly fled my noble soul.250I yield: let love, which will not be controlled,Be conquered. Nor shalt thou, fair fame, be stained.This way alone is left, sole hope of woe:Theseus I'll follow, and by death shun sin.Nurse:Oh, check, my child, this wild, impetuous thought;255Be calm. For now I think thee worthy life,Because thou hast condemned thyself to death.Phaedra:I am resolved to die, and only seekThe mode of death. Shall I my spirit freeBy twisted rope, or fall upon the sword,Or shall I leap from yonder citadel?260Nurse:Shall my old age permit thee thus to dieSelf-slain? Thy deadly, raging purpose stay.No one may easily come back to life.Phaedra:No argument can stay the will of one265Who has resolved to die, and ought to die.Quick, let me arm myself in honor's cause.Nurse:Sole comfort of my weary age, my child,If such unruly passion sways thy heart,Away with reputation! 'Tis a thingWhich rarely with reality agrees;It smiles upon the ill-deserving man,270And from the good withholds his meed of praise.Let us make trial of that stubborn soul.Mine be the task to approach the savage youth,And bend his will relentless to our own.

Phaedra:O mighty Crete, thou mistress of the deep,85

Whose ships uncounted sail through every sea

Wherever Nereus shows their beaks the way,

E'en to Assyria's shores; why dost thou here

Compel me thus in woe and tears to live,

A hostage given to the hated foe,90

And to a foeman wed? Behold my lord,

Deserting me, his bride, is far away,

And keeps his wonted faith. Through shadows deep

Of that dark pool which may not be recrossed,

This doughty follower of a madcap prince

Has gone, that from the very throne of Dis95

He might seduce and bear away his queen.

With such mad folly linked he went away,

Restrained by neither fear nor shame. And so,

In deepest Acheron, illicit love

This father of Hippolytus desires.

But other, greater griefs than this oppress

My sorrowing soul; no quiet rest by night,100

No slumber deep comes to dissolve my cares;

But woe is fed and grows within my heart,

And there burns hot as Aetna's raging fires.

My loom stands empty and my listless hands

Drop idly from their tasks. No more I care105

To make my votive offerings to the gods,

Nor, with the Athenian women mingled, dance

Around their sacred shrines, and conscious brands

Toss high in secret rites. I have no heart

With chaste and pious prayers to worship her,

That mighty goddess who was set to guard

This Attic land. My only joy is found110

In swift pursuit of fleeing beasts of prey,

My soft hands brandishing the heavy spear.

But what will come of this? Why do I love

The forest glades so madly? Ah, I feel

The fatal malady my mother felt;

For both have learned within the forest depths

To sin in love. O mother, now my heart115

Doth ache for thee; for, swept away by sin

Unspeakable, thou boldly didst conceive

A shameful passion for the savage lord

Of the wild herd. Untamable was he,

That stern and lustful leader of the flock;

And yet he loved. But in my passion's need120

What god can help me? Where the Daedalus

Who can my love relieve? Should he return

Who shut our monster in the labyrinth,

He could not by his well-known Attic skill

Avail to save me from this dire mischance.

For Venus, filled with deadly hate of us,

The stock of Phoebus, seeks through me to avenge125

The chains which fettered her in shame to Mars,

And all our house with direful love she fills.

No princess of our race has ever loved

In modest wise, but always monstrously.

Nurse:O wife of Theseus, glorious child of Jove,Drive from thy modest breast these shameful thoughts.130Put out these flames; and give thyself no hopeOf such dire love as this. Whoe'er at firstHas set himself to fight and conquer love,A safe and easy victory finds. But he,Who dallies with its evil sweets, too lateRefuses to endure the galling yoke135Which he himself has placed upon his neck.I know full well how scornful of the truth,How harsh the swollen pride of princesses,How it refuses to be bent aright.Whatever outcome chance allots, I'll bear;For dawning freedom makes the agéd brave.To will to live uprightly nor to fall140From virtue's ways is best; but next to thisIs sense of shame, the knowing when to stopA sinful course. What, pray, will be the endFor thee, poor mistress? Why dost heap thy houseWith further infamy? Wouldst thou outsinThy mother? For thy impious love is worseThan her unnatural and monstrous love.The first you would impute to character,The last to fate. If, since thy husband sees145No more the realms of earth, thou dost believeThat this thy sin is safe and free from fear,Thou art in error. Grant that he is heldImprisoned fast in Lethe's lowest depths,And must forever feel the bonds of Styx:Would he, thy sire, who by his spreading swayEncroaches on the sea, who gives their laws150Unto a hundred peoples, e'er permitSo great a crime as this to lie unknown?Keen is a parent's watchful care. And yet,Suppose that by our craft and guile we hideThis crime from him: what of thy mother's sire,Who floods the earth with his illuming rays?155And what of him who makes the earth to quake,The bolts of Aetna flashing in his hand,The father of the gods? And dost thou thinkThat it can be that thou couldst hide thy sinFrom these thy grandsires, all-beholding ones?But even should the favor of the gods,Complaisant, hide thy shame from all the world;160Though to thy lust alone should fall that graceDenied to other crimes: still must thou fear.What of that ever-present punishment,The terror of the soul that knows its guilt,Is stained with crime and fearful of itself?Some women have with safety sinned, but noneWith peace of soul. Then quench these flames, I pray,165Of impious love, and shun this monstrous crimeWhich no barbaric land has ever done,No Getan wandering on his lonely plains,No savage Taurian, no Scythian.Expel from thy chaste soul this hideous thing,And, mindful of thy mother's sin, avoid170Such monstrous unions. Wouldst in marriage giveThyself to son and father? Wouldst thou takeIn thine incestuous womb a progenySo basely mixed? Then go the length of sin:O'erthrow all nature with thy shameful fires.Why should the monsters cease? Why empty standsThy brother's labyrinth? Shall all the world175Be shocked with prodigies, shall nature's lawsBe scorned, whene'er a Cretan woman loves?

Nurse:O wife of Theseus, glorious child of Jove,

Drive from thy modest breast these shameful thoughts.130

Put out these flames; and give thyself no hope

Of such dire love as this. Whoe'er at first

Has set himself to fight and conquer love,

A safe and easy victory finds. But he,

Who dallies with its evil sweets, too late

Refuses to endure the galling yoke135

Which he himself has placed upon his neck.

I know full well how scornful of the truth,

How harsh the swollen pride of princesses,

How it refuses to be bent aright.

Whatever outcome chance allots, I'll bear;

For dawning freedom makes the agéd brave.

To will to live uprightly nor to fall140

From virtue's ways is best; but next to this

Is sense of shame, the knowing when to stop

A sinful course. What, pray, will be the end

For thee, poor mistress? Why dost heap thy house

With further infamy? Wouldst thou outsin

Thy mother? For thy impious love is worse

Than her unnatural and monstrous love.

The first you would impute to character,

The last to fate. If, since thy husband sees145

No more the realms of earth, thou dost believe

That this thy sin is safe and free from fear,

Thou art in error. Grant that he is held

Imprisoned fast in Lethe's lowest depths,

And must forever feel the bonds of Styx:

Would he, thy sire, who by his spreading sway

Encroaches on the sea, who gives their laws150

Unto a hundred peoples, e'er permit

So great a crime as this to lie unknown?

Keen is a parent's watchful care. And yet,

Suppose that by our craft and guile we hide

This crime from him: what of thy mother's sire,

Who floods the earth with his illuming rays?155

And what of him who makes the earth to quake,

The bolts of Aetna flashing in his hand,

The father of the gods? And dost thou think

That it can be that thou couldst hide thy sin

From these thy grandsires, all-beholding ones?

But even should the favor of the gods,

Complaisant, hide thy shame from all the world;160

Though to thy lust alone should fall that grace

Denied to other crimes: still must thou fear.

What of that ever-present punishment,

The terror of the soul that knows its guilt,

Is stained with crime and fearful of itself?

Some women have with safety sinned, but none

With peace of soul. Then quench these flames, I pray,165

Of impious love, and shun this monstrous crime

Which no barbaric land has ever done,

No Getan wandering on his lonely plains,

No savage Taurian, no Scythian.

Expel from thy chaste soul this hideous thing,

And, mindful of thy mother's sin, avoid170

Such monstrous unions. Wouldst in marriage give

Thyself to son and father? Wouldst thou take

In thine incestuous womb a progeny

So basely mixed? Then go the length of sin:

O'erthrow all nature with thy shameful fires.

Why should the monsters cease? Why empty stands

Thy brother's labyrinth? Shall all the world175

Be shocked with prodigies, shall nature's laws

Be scorned, whene'er a Cretan woman loves?

Phaedra:I know that what thou say'st is true, dear nurse;But raging passion forces me to takeThe path of sin. Full consciously my soulGoes headlong on its downward way, ofttimesWith backward glance, sane counsel seeking still,Without avail. So, when the mariner180Would sail his ship against the boisterous waves,His toil is all in vain, and, vanquished quite,The ship drifts onward with the hurrying tide.For what can reason do when passion rules,When love, almighty, dominates the soul?185The wingéd god is lord through all the earth,And with his flames unquenchable the heartOf Jove himself is burned. The god of warHas felt his fire; and Vulcan too, that godWho forges Jove's three-forkéd thunderbolts;Yea, he, who in the hold of Aetna huge190Is lord of ever-blazing furnaces,By this small spark is burned. Apollo, too,Who sends his arrows with unerring aim,Was pierced by Cupid's still more certain darts.For equally in heaven and earth the godIs powerful.

Phaedra:I know that what thou say'st is true, dear nurse;

But raging passion forces me to take

The path of sin. Full consciously my soul

Goes headlong on its downward way, ofttimes

With backward glance, sane counsel seeking still,

Without avail. So, when the mariner180

Would sail his ship against the boisterous waves,

His toil is all in vain, and, vanquished quite,

The ship drifts onward with the hurrying tide.

For what can reason do when passion rules,

When love, almighty, dominates the soul?185

The wingéd god is lord through all the earth,

And with his flames unquenchable the heart

Of Jove himself is burned. The god of war

Has felt his fire; and Vulcan too, that god

Who forges Jove's three-forkéd thunderbolts;

Yea, he, who in the hold of Aetna huge190

Is lord of ever-blazing furnaces,

By this small spark is burned. Apollo, too,

Who sends his arrows with unerring aim,

Was pierced by Cupid's still more certain darts.

For equally in heaven and earth the god

Is powerful.

Nurse:The god! 'Tis vicious lust195That hath his godhead framed; and, that its endsMore fully may be gained, it has assignedTo its unbridled love the specious name,Divinity! 'Tis Venus' son, in sooth,Sent wandering through all the earth! He fliesThrough empty air and in his boyish hands200His deadly weapon bears! Though least of gods,He holds the widest sway! Such vain conceitsThe love-mad soul adopts, love's goddess feigns,And Cupid's bow. Whoe'er too much enjoysThe smiles of fortune and in ease is lapped,Is ever seeking unaccustomed joys.205Then that dire comrade of a high estate,Inordinate desire, comes in. The feastOf yesterday no longer pleases; nowA home of sane and simple living, food[19]Of humble sort, are odious. Oh, whyDoes this destructive pest so rarely comeTo lowly homes, but chooses rather homes210Of luxury? And why does modest loveBeneath the humble roof abide, and blessWith wholesome intercourse the common throng?Why do the poor restrain their appetites,Whereas the rich, on empire propped, desireMore than is right. Who wields too much of power215Desires to gain what is beyond his power.What is befitting to thy high estateThou knowest well. Then fitting reverence showTo thy returning husband's sovereignty.

Nurse:The god! 'Tis vicious lust195

That hath his godhead framed; and, that its ends

More fully may be gained, it has assigned

To its unbridled love the specious name,

Divinity! 'Tis Venus' son, in sooth,

Sent wandering through all the earth! He flies

Through empty air and in his boyish hands200

His deadly weapon bears! Though least of gods,

He holds the widest sway! Such vain conceits

The love-mad soul adopts, love's goddess feigns,

And Cupid's bow. Whoe'er too much enjoys

The smiles of fortune and in ease is lapped,

Is ever seeking unaccustomed joys.205

Then that dire comrade of a high estate,

Inordinate desire, comes in. The feast

Of yesterday no longer pleases; now

A home of sane and simple living, food[19]

Of humble sort, are odious. Oh, why

Does this destructive pest so rarely come

To lowly homes, but chooses rather homes210

Of luxury? And why does modest love

Beneath the humble roof abide, and bless

With wholesome intercourse the common throng?

Why do the poor restrain their appetites,

Whereas the rich, on empire propped, desire

More than is right. Who wields too much of power215

Desires to gain what is beyond his power.

What is befitting to thy high estate

Thou knowest well. Then fitting reverence show

To thy returning husband's sovereignty.

Phaedra:The sovereignty of love is over me,The highest rule of all. My lord's return,I fear it not; for never more has he,Who once within the silent depths of night220Has plunged, beheld again the light of day.

Phaedra:The sovereignty of love is over me,

The highest rule of all. My lord's return,

I fear it not; for never more has he,

Who once within the silent depths of night220

Has plunged, beheld again the light of day.

Nurse:Trust not the power of Dis; for though his realmHe closely bar, and though the Stygian dogKeep watch and ward upon the baleful doors,Theseus can always walk forbidden ways.

Nurse:Trust not the power of Dis; for though his realm

He closely bar, and though the Stygian dog

Keep watch and ward upon the baleful doors,

Theseus can always walk forbidden ways.

Phaedra:Perchance he'll give indulgence to my love.225

Nurse:But he was harsh e'en to a modest wife;His heavy hand Antiope has known.But grant that thou canst bend thy angry lord:Canst bend as well the stubborn soul of him,Hippolytus, who hates the very name230Of womankind? Inexorable his resolveTo spend his life unwedded. He so shunsThe sacred rites of marriage, thou wouldst knowThat he of Amazonian stock was born.

Nurse:But he was harsh e'en to a modest wife;

His heavy hand Antiope has known.

But grant that thou canst bend thy angry lord:

Canst bend as well the stubborn soul of him,

Hippolytus, who hates the very name230

Of womankind? Inexorable his resolve

To spend his life unwedded. He so shuns

The sacred rites of marriage, thou wouldst know

That he of Amazonian stock was born.

Phaedra:Though on the tops of snowy hills he hide,Or swiftly course along the ragged cliffs,Through forests deep, o'er mountains, 'tis my will235To follow him.

Phaedra:Though on the tops of snowy hills he hide,

Or swiftly course along the ragged cliffs,

Through forests deep, o'er mountains, 'tis my will235

To follow him.

Nurse:And will he turn again,And yield himself unto thy sweet caress?Or will he lay aside his modestyAt thy vile love's behest? Will he give o'erHis hate of womankind for thee alone,On whose account, perchance, he hates them all?

Nurse:And will he turn again,

And yield himself unto thy sweet caress?

Or will he lay aside his modesty

At thy vile love's behest? Will he give o'er

His hate of womankind for thee alone,

On whose account, perchance, he hates them all?

Phaedra:Can he not be by any prayers o'ercome?

Nurse:He's wild.240

Phaedra:Yes, but the beasts are tamed by love.

Nurse:He'll flee.

Phaedra:Through Ocean's self I'll follow him.

Nurse:Thy sire remember.

Phaedra:And my mother too.

Nurse:Women he hates.

Phaedra:Then I'll no rival fear.

Nurse:Thy husband comes.

Phaedra:With him Pirithoüs!

Nurse:Thy sire!245

Phaedra:To Ariadne he was kind.

Nurse:O child, by these white locks of age, I pray,This care-filled heart, these breasts that suckled thee,Put off this rage; to thine own rescue come.The greater part of life is will to live.

Nurse:O child, by these white locks of age, I pray,

This care-filled heart, these breasts that suckled thee,

Put off this rage; to thine own rescue come.

The greater part of life is will to live.

Phaedra:Shame has not wholly fled my noble soul.250I yield: let love, which will not be controlled,Be conquered. Nor shalt thou, fair fame, be stained.This way alone is left, sole hope of woe:Theseus I'll follow, and by death shun sin.

Phaedra:Shame has not wholly fled my noble soul.250

I yield: let love, which will not be controlled,

Be conquered. Nor shalt thou, fair fame, be stained.

This way alone is left, sole hope of woe:

Theseus I'll follow, and by death shun sin.

Nurse:Oh, check, my child, this wild, impetuous thought;255Be calm. For now I think thee worthy life,Because thou hast condemned thyself to death.

Nurse:Oh, check, my child, this wild, impetuous thought;255

Be calm. For now I think thee worthy life,

Because thou hast condemned thyself to death.

Phaedra:I am resolved to die, and only seekThe mode of death. Shall I my spirit freeBy twisted rope, or fall upon the sword,Or shall I leap from yonder citadel?260

Phaedra:I am resolved to die, and only seek

The mode of death. Shall I my spirit free

By twisted rope, or fall upon the sword,

Or shall I leap from yonder citadel?260

Nurse:Shall my old age permit thee thus to dieSelf-slain? Thy deadly, raging purpose stay.No one may easily come back to life.

Nurse:Shall my old age permit thee thus to die

Self-slain? Thy deadly, raging purpose stay.

No one may easily come back to life.

Phaedra:No argument can stay the will of one265Who has resolved to die, and ought to die.Quick, let me arm myself in honor's cause.

Phaedra:No argument can stay the will of one265

Who has resolved to die, and ought to die.

Quick, let me arm myself in honor's cause.

Nurse:Sole comfort of my weary age, my child,If such unruly passion sways thy heart,Away with reputation! 'Tis a thingWhich rarely with reality agrees;It smiles upon the ill-deserving man,270And from the good withholds his meed of praise.Let us make trial of that stubborn soul.Mine be the task to approach the savage youth,And bend his will relentless to our own.

Nurse:Sole comfort of my weary age, my child,

If such unruly passion sways thy heart,

Away with reputation! 'Tis a thing

Which rarely with reality agrees;

It smiles upon the ill-deserving man,270

And from the good withholds his meed of praise.

Let us make trial of that stubborn soul.

Mine be the task to approach the savage youth,

And bend his will relentless to our own.

Chorus:Thou goddess, child of the foaming sea,Thou mother of love, how fierce are the flames,275And how sharp are the darts of thy petulant boy;How deadly of aim his bow.Deep to the heart the poison sinksWhen the veins are imbued with his hidden flame;280No gaping wound upon the breastDoes his arrow leave; but far withinIt burns with consuming fire.No peace or rest does he give; world wideAre his flying weapons sown abroad:The shores that see the rising sun,285And the land that lies at the goal of the west;The south where raging Cancer glows,And the land of the cold Arcadian BearWith its ever-wandering tribes—all knowAnd have felt the fires of love.290The hot blood of youth he rouses to madness,The smouldering embers of age he rekindles,And even the innocent breasts of maidsAre stirred by passion unknown.He bids the immortals desert the skiesAnd dwell on the earth in forms assumed.295For love, Apollo kept the herdsOf Thessaly's king, and, his lyre unused,He called to his bulls on the gentle pipe.How oft has Jove himself put onThe lower forms of life, who rulesThe sky and the clouds. Now a bird he seems,300With white wings hovering, with voiceMore sweet than the song of the dying swan;Now with lowering front, as a wanton bull,He offers his back to the sport of maids;And soon through his brother's waves he floats,305With his hoofs like sturdy oars, and his breastStoutly opposing the waves, in fearFor the captured maid he bears. For love,The shining goddess of the nightHer dim skies left, and her glittering car310To her brother allotted to guide. UntrainedIn managing the dusky steeds,Within a shorter circuit nowHe learns to direct his course. MeanwhileThe nights no more their accustomed spaceRetained, and the dawn came slowly back,315Since 'neath a heavier burden nowThe axle trembled. Love compelledAlcmena's son to lay asideHis quiver and the threat'ning spoilOf that great lion's skin he bore,And have his fingers set with gems,His shaggy locks in order dressed.320His limbs were wrapped in cloth of gold,His feet with yellow sandals bound;And with that hand which bore but nowThe mighty club, he wound the threadWhich from his mistress' spindle fell.The sight all Persia saw, and they325Who dwell in Lydia's fertile realm—The savage lion's skin laid by,And on those shoulders, once the propFor heaven's vast dome, a gauzy cloakOf Tyrian manufacture spread.Accursed is love, its victims know,330And all too strong. In every land,In the all-encircling briny deep,In the airy heavens where the bright stars course,There pitiless love holds sway.The sea-green band of the Nereids335Have felt his darts in their deepest waves,And the waters of ocean cannot quenchTheir flames. The birds know the passion of love,And mighty bulls, with its fire inflamed,Wage furious battle, while the herd340Look on in wonder. Even stags,Though timorous of heart, will fightIf for their mates they fear, while loudResound the snortings of their wrath.When with love the striped tigers burn,The swarthy Indian cowers in fear.345For love the boar whets his deadly tusksAnd his huge mouth is white with foam.The African lions toss their manesWhen love inflames their hearts, and the woodsResound with their savage roars.350The monsters of the raging deep,And those great beasts, the elephants,Feel the sway of love; since nature's powerClaims everything, and nothing spares.Hate perishes when love commands,And ancient feuds yield to his touch.355Why need I more his sway approve,When even stepdames yield to love?

Chorus:Thou goddess, child of the foaming sea,

Thou mother of love, how fierce are the flames,275

And how sharp are the darts of thy petulant boy;

How deadly of aim his bow.

Deep to the heart the poison sinks

When the veins are imbued with his hidden flame;280

No gaping wound upon the breast

Does his arrow leave; but far within

It burns with consuming fire.

No peace or rest does he give; world wide

Are his flying weapons sown abroad:

The shores that see the rising sun,285

And the land that lies at the goal of the west;

The south where raging Cancer glows,

And the land of the cold Arcadian Bear

With its ever-wandering tribes—all know

And have felt the fires of love.290

The hot blood of youth he rouses to madness,

The smouldering embers of age he rekindles,

And even the innocent breasts of maids

Are stirred by passion unknown.

He bids the immortals desert the skies

And dwell on the earth in forms assumed.295

For love, Apollo kept the herds

Of Thessaly's king, and, his lyre unused,

He called to his bulls on the gentle pipe.

How oft has Jove himself put on

The lower forms of life, who rules

The sky and the clouds. Now a bird he seems,300

With white wings hovering, with voice

More sweet than the song of the dying swan;

Now with lowering front, as a wanton bull,

He offers his back to the sport of maids;

And soon through his brother's waves he floats,305

With his hoofs like sturdy oars, and his breast

Stoutly opposing the waves, in fear

For the captured maid he bears. For love,

The shining goddess of the night

Her dim skies left, and her glittering car310

To her brother allotted to guide. Untrained

In managing the dusky steeds,

Within a shorter circuit now

He learns to direct his course. Meanwhile

The nights no more their accustomed space

Retained, and the dawn came slowly back,315

Since 'neath a heavier burden now

The axle trembled. Love compelled

Alcmena's son to lay aside

His quiver and the threat'ning spoil

Of that great lion's skin he bore,

And have his fingers set with gems,

His shaggy locks in order dressed.320

His limbs were wrapped in cloth of gold,

His feet with yellow sandals bound;

And with that hand which bore but now

The mighty club, he wound the thread

Which from his mistress' spindle fell.

The sight all Persia saw, and they325

Who dwell in Lydia's fertile realm—

The savage lion's skin laid by,

And on those shoulders, once the prop

For heaven's vast dome, a gauzy cloak

Of Tyrian manufacture spread.

Accursed is love, its victims know,330

And all too strong. In every land,

In the all-encircling briny deep,

In the airy heavens where the bright stars course,

There pitiless love holds sway.

The sea-green band of the Nereids335

Have felt his darts in their deepest waves,

And the waters of ocean cannot quench

Their flames. The birds know the passion of love,

And mighty bulls, with its fire inflamed,

Wage furious battle, while the herd340

Look on in wonder. Even stags,

Though timorous of heart, will fight

If for their mates they fear, while loud

Resound the snortings of their wrath.

When with love the striped tigers burn,

The swarthy Indian cowers in fear.345

For love the boar whets his deadly tusks

And his huge mouth is white with foam.

The African lions toss their manes

When love inflames their hearts, and the woods

Resound with their savage roars.350

The monsters of the raging deep,

And those great beasts, the elephants,

Feel the sway of love; since nature's power

Claims everything, and nothing spares.

Hate perishes when love commands,

And ancient feuds yield to his touch.355

Why need I more his sway approve,

When even stepdames yield to love?

FOOTNOTES:[19]Reading,cibus.

[19]Reading,cibus.

[EnterNursefrom the palace.]

Chorus:Speak, nurse, the news thou bring'st. How fares the queen?Do her fierce fires of love know any end?Nurse:I have no hope that such a malady360Can be relieved; her maddened passion's flamesWill endless burn. A hidden, silent fireConsumes her, and her raging love, though shutWithin her heart, is by her face betrayed.Her eyes dart fire; anon, her sunken gazeAvoids the light of day. Her restless soul365Can find no pleasure long in anything.Her aimless love allows her limbs no rest.Now, as with dying, tottering steps, she goes,And scarce can hold her nodding head erect;And now lies down to sleep. But, sleepless quite,She spends the night in tears. Now does she bidMe lift her up, and straight to lay her down;370To loose her locks, and bind them up again.In restless mood she constantly demandsFresh robes. She has no care for food or health.With failing strength she walks, with aimless feet.375Her old-time strength is gone; no longer shinesThe ruddy glow of health upon her face.Care feeds upon her limbs; her trembling stepsBetray her weakness, and the tender graceOf her once blooming beauty is no more.Her eyes, which once with Phoebus' brilliance shone,No longer gleam with their ancestral fires.380Her tears flow ever, and her cheeks are wetWith constant rain; as when, on Taurus' top,The snows are melted by a warming shower.But look, the palace doors are opening,And she, reclining on her couch of gold,385And sick of soul, refuses one by oneThe customary garments of her state.Phaedra:Remove, ye slaves, those bright and gold-wrought robes;Away with Tyrian purple, and the websOf silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribesFrom leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes;390I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls,The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears.No nard from far Assyria shall scentMy locks; thus loosely tossing let them fallAround my neck and shoulders; let them streamUpon the wind, by my swift running stirred.395Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt,And in my right hand will I brandish freeA hunting-spear of Thessaly; for thusThe mother of Hippolytus was clad.So did she lead her hosts from the frozen shoresOf Pontus, when to Attica she came,400From distant Tanaïs or Maeotis' banks,Her comely locks down flowing from a knot,Her side protected by a crescent shield.Like her would I betake me to the woods.Chorus:Cease thy laments, for grief will not availThe wretched. Rather seek to appease the will405Of that wild virgin goddess of the woods.Nurse[toDiana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st aloneOn mountain tops, and thou who only artWithin their desert haunts adored, convert,We pray, to better issue these sad fears.O mighty goddess of the woods and groves,Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night,410Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumesThe sky, thou three-formed Hecate—Oh, smile,We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soulOf stern Hippolytus subdue for us.Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flameMay he endure. May he give ready earTo our request. His hard and stubborn heart415Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind.Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce,May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws.Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy faceBe ever clear, and through the rifted cloudsMayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright;So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky,420May no Thessalian mummeries prevailTo draw thee from thy nightly journey down;And may no shepherd boast himself of thee.Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer;[Hippolytusis seen approaching.]I see Hippolytus himself, alone,Approaching to perform the yearly ritesTo Dian due.425[To herself.]Why dost thou hesitate?Both time and place are given by fortune's lot.Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear?It is no easy task to do the deedEnjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen,Must banish from her heart all thought of right;For sense of shame ill serves a royal will.430

Chorus:Speak, nurse, the news thou bring'st. How fares the queen?Do her fierce fires of love know any end?

Chorus:Speak, nurse, the news thou bring'st. How fares the queen?

Do her fierce fires of love know any end?

Nurse:I have no hope that such a malady360Can be relieved; her maddened passion's flamesWill endless burn. A hidden, silent fireConsumes her, and her raging love, though shutWithin her heart, is by her face betrayed.Her eyes dart fire; anon, her sunken gazeAvoids the light of day. Her restless soul365Can find no pleasure long in anything.Her aimless love allows her limbs no rest.Now, as with dying, tottering steps, she goes,And scarce can hold her nodding head erect;And now lies down to sleep. But, sleepless quite,She spends the night in tears. Now does she bidMe lift her up, and straight to lay her down;370To loose her locks, and bind them up again.In restless mood she constantly demandsFresh robes. She has no care for food or health.With failing strength she walks, with aimless feet.375Her old-time strength is gone; no longer shinesThe ruddy glow of health upon her face.Care feeds upon her limbs; her trembling stepsBetray her weakness, and the tender graceOf her once blooming beauty is no more.Her eyes, which once with Phoebus' brilliance shone,No longer gleam with their ancestral fires.380Her tears flow ever, and her cheeks are wetWith constant rain; as when, on Taurus' top,The snows are melted by a warming shower.But look, the palace doors are opening,And she, reclining on her couch of gold,385And sick of soul, refuses one by oneThe customary garments of her state.

Nurse:I have no hope that such a malady360

Can be relieved; her maddened passion's flames

Will endless burn. A hidden, silent fire

Consumes her, and her raging love, though shut

Within her heart, is by her face betrayed.

Her eyes dart fire; anon, her sunken gaze

Avoids the light of day. Her restless soul365

Can find no pleasure long in anything.

Her aimless love allows her limbs no rest.

Now, as with dying, tottering steps, she goes,

And scarce can hold her nodding head erect;

And now lies down to sleep. But, sleepless quite,

She spends the night in tears. Now does she bid

Me lift her up, and straight to lay her down;370

To loose her locks, and bind them up again.

In restless mood she constantly demands

Fresh robes. She has no care for food or health.

With failing strength she walks, with aimless feet.375

Her old-time strength is gone; no longer shines

The ruddy glow of health upon her face.

Care feeds upon her limbs; her trembling steps

Betray her weakness, and the tender grace

Of her once blooming beauty is no more.

Her eyes, which once with Phoebus' brilliance shone,

No longer gleam with their ancestral fires.380

Her tears flow ever, and her cheeks are wet

With constant rain; as when, on Taurus' top,

The snows are melted by a warming shower.

But look, the palace doors are opening,

And she, reclining on her couch of gold,385

And sick of soul, refuses one by one

The customary garments of her state.

Phaedra:Remove, ye slaves, those bright and gold-wrought robes;Away with Tyrian purple, and the websOf silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribesFrom leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes;390I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls,The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears.No nard from far Assyria shall scentMy locks; thus loosely tossing let them fallAround my neck and shoulders; let them streamUpon the wind, by my swift running stirred.395Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt,And in my right hand will I brandish freeA hunting-spear of Thessaly; for thusThe mother of Hippolytus was clad.So did she lead her hosts from the frozen shoresOf Pontus, when to Attica she came,400From distant Tanaïs or Maeotis' banks,Her comely locks down flowing from a knot,Her side protected by a crescent shield.Like her would I betake me to the woods.

Phaedra:Remove, ye slaves, those bright and gold-wrought robes;

Away with Tyrian purple, and the webs

Of silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribes

From leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes;390

I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls,

The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears.

No nard from far Assyria shall scent

My locks; thus loosely tossing let them fall

Around my neck and shoulders; let them stream

Upon the wind, by my swift running stirred.395

Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt,

And in my right hand will I brandish free

A hunting-spear of Thessaly; for thus

The mother of Hippolytus was clad.

So did she lead her hosts from the frozen shores

Of Pontus, when to Attica she came,400

From distant Tanaïs or Maeotis' banks,

Her comely locks down flowing from a knot,

Her side protected by a crescent shield.

Like her would I betake me to the woods.

Chorus:Cease thy laments, for grief will not availThe wretched. Rather seek to appease the will405Of that wild virgin goddess of the woods.

Chorus:Cease thy laments, for grief will not avail

The wretched. Rather seek to appease the will405

Of that wild virgin goddess of the woods.

Nurse[toDiana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st aloneOn mountain tops, and thou who only artWithin their desert haunts adored, convert,We pray, to better issue these sad fears.O mighty goddess of the woods and groves,Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night,410Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumesThe sky, thou three-formed Hecate—Oh, smile,We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soulOf stern Hippolytus subdue for us.Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flameMay he endure. May he give ready earTo our request. His hard and stubborn heart415Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind.Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce,May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws.Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy faceBe ever clear, and through the rifted cloudsMayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright;So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky,420May no Thessalian mummeries prevailTo draw thee from thy nightly journey down;And may no shepherd boast himself of thee.Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer;[Hippolytusis seen approaching.]I see Hippolytus himself, alone,Approaching to perform the yearly ritesTo Dian due.425[To herself.]Why dost thou hesitate?Both time and place are given by fortune's lot.Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear?It is no easy task to do the deedEnjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen,Must banish from her heart all thought of right;For sense of shame ill serves a royal will.430

Nurse[toDiana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st alone

On mountain tops, and thou who only art

Within their desert haunts adored, convert,

We pray, to better issue these sad fears.

O mighty goddess of the woods and groves,

Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night,410

Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumes

The sky, thou three-formed Hecate—Oh, smile,

We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soul

Of stern Hippolytus subdue for us.

Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flame

May he endure. May he give ready ear

To our request. His hard and stubborn heart415

Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind.

Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce,

May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws.

Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy face

Be ever clear, and through the rifted clouds

Mayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright;

So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky,420

May no Thessalian mummeries prevail

To draw thee from thy nightly journey down;

And may no shepherd boast himself of thee.

Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer;

[Hippolytusis seen approaching.]

I see Hippolytus himself, alone,

Approaching to perform the yearly rites

To Dian due.425

[To herself.]

Why dost thou hesitate?

Both time and place are given by fortune's lot.

Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear?

It is no easy task to do the deed

Enjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen,

Must banish from her heart all thought of right;

For sense of shame ill serves a royal will.430

[EnterHippolytus.]

Hippolytus:Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet,O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad,Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sireIn safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.Nurse:Thou need'st not fear for them; the kingdom stands435In prosperous estate, and all thy houseRejoices in the blessings of the gods.But Oh, do thou with greater kindness lookUpon thy fortune. For my heart is vexedAnd anxious for thy sake; for thou thyselfWith grievous sufferings dost bruise thy soul.If fate compels it, one may be forgiven440For wretchedness; but if, of his own will,A man prefers to live in misery,Brings tortures on himself, then he deservesTo lose those gifts he knows not how to use.Be mindful of thy youth; relax thy mind.Lift high the blazing torch on festal nights;Let Bacchus free thee from thy weighty cares;445Enjoy this time which speeds so swiftly by.Now is the time when love comes easily,And smiles on youth. Come, let thy soul rejoice.Why dost thou lie upon a lonely couch?Dissolve in pleasures that grim mood of thine,And snatch the passing joys;[20]let loose the reins.450Forbid that these, the best days of thy life,Should vanish unenjoyed. Its proper hueHas God allotted to each time of life,And leads from step to step the age of man.So joy becomes the young, a face severeThe agéd. Why dost thou restrain thyself,And strangle at their birth the joys of life?That crop rewards the farmer's labor most455Which in the young and tender sprouting-timeRuns riot in the fields. With lofty topThat tree will overspread the neighboring grove,Which no begrudging hand cuts back or prunes.So do our inborn powers a richer fruitOf praise and glory bear, if liberty,Unchecked and boundless, feed the noble soul.460Thou, harsh, uncouth, and ignorant of life,Dost spend thy youth to joy and love unknown.Think'st thou that this is man's allotted task,To suffer hardships, curb the rushing steeds,And fight like savage beasts in bloody war?465When he beheld the boundless greed of death,The mighty father of the world ordainedA means by which the race might be renewed.Suppose the power of Venus over menShould cease, who doth supply and still renew470The stream of life, then would this lovely worldBecome a foul, unsightly thing indeed:The sea would bear no fish within its waves,The woods no beasts of prey, the air no birds;But through its empty space the winds aloneWould rove. How various the forms of death475That seize and feed upon our mortal race:The wrecking sea, the sword, and treachery!But say that these are lacking: still we fallOf our own gravity to gloomy Styx.Suppose our youth should choose a mateless life,And live in childless state: then all this worldOf teeming life which thou dost see, would liveThis generation only, and would fall480In ruins on itself. Then spend thy lifeAs nature doth direct; frequent the town,And live in friendly union with thy kind.Hippolytus:There is no life so free, so innocent,Which better cherishes the ancient rites,Than that which spurns the crowded ways of menAnd seeks the silent places of the woods.485His soul no maddening greed of gain inflamesWho on the lofty levels of the hillsHis blameless pleasures finds. No fickle breathOf passing favor frets him here, no stingOf base ingratitude, no poisonous hate.He fears no kingdom's laws; nor, in the quest490Of power, does he pursue the phantom shapesOf fame and wealth. From hope and fear alikeIs he removed. No black and biting spiteWith base, malicious tooth preys on him here.He never hears of those base, shameful thingsThat spawn amid the city's teeming throngs.It is not his with guilty heart to quakeAt every sound; he need not hide his thoughts495With guileful words; in pride of sinful wealthHe seeks to own no lordly palace proppedUpon a thousand pillars, with its beamsIn flaunting arrogance incased with gold.No streams of blood his pious altars drench;No hecatombs of snowy bullocks stand500Foredoomed to death, their foreheads sprinkled o'erWith sacred meal; but in the spacious fields,Beneath the sky, in fearless innocence,He wanders lord of all. His only guile,To set the cunning snare for beasts of pray;And, when o'erspent with labors of the chase,He soothes his body in the shining streamOf cool Ilissus. Now swift Alpheus' banks505He skirts, and now the lofty forest's deep,Dense places treads, where Lerna, clear and cool,Pours forth her glimmering streams.Here twittering birds make all the woods resound,And through the branches of the ancient beechThe leaves are all a-flutter in the breeze.510How sweet upon some vagrant river's bank,Or on the verdant turf, to lie at length,And quaff one's fill of deep, delicious sleep,Whether in hurrying floods some copious streamPours down its waves, or through the vernal flowersSome murmuring brook sings sweetly as it flows.The windfall apples of the wood appease515His hunger, while the ripening berries pluckedFrom wayside thickets grant an easy meal.He gladly shuns the luxuries of kings.Let mighty lords from anxious cups of goldTheir nectar quaff; for him how sweet to catchWith naked hand the water of the spring!520More certain slumber soothes him, though his couchBe hard, if free from care he lay him down.With guilty soul he seeks no shameful deedsIn nooks remote upon some hidden couch,Nor timorous hides in labyrinthine cell;He courts the open air and light of day,And lives before the conscious eye of heaven.525Such was the life, I think, the ancients lived,Those primal men who mingled with the gods.They were not blinded by the love of gold;No sacred stone divided off the fieldsAnd lotted each his own in judgment there.Nor yet did vessels rashly plow the seas;530But each his native waters knew alone.Then cities were not girt with massive walls,With frequent towers set; no soldier thereTo savage arms his hands applied, nor burstThe close-barred gates with huge and heavy stonesFrom ponderous engines hurled. As yet the earth535Endured no master's rule, nor felt the swayOf laboring oxen yoked in common toil;But all the fields, self-fruitful, fed mankind,Who took and asked no more. The woods gave wealth,And shady grottoes natural homes supplied.Unholy greed first broke these peaceful bonds,540And headlong wrath, and lust which sets aflameThe hearts of men. Then came the cruel thirstFor empire; and the weak became the preyOf strong, and might was counted right. At firstMen fought with naked fists, but soon they turned545Rough clubs and stones to use of arms. Not yetWere cornel spears with slender points of iron,And long, sharp-pointed swords, and crested helms.Such weapons wrath invented. Warlike MarsProduced new arts of strife, and forms of death550In countless numbers made. Thence streams of goreStained every land, and reddened every sea.Then crime, o'erleaping every bound, ran wild;Invaded every home. No hideous deedWas left undone: but brothers by the hand555Of brothers fell, parents by children's hands,Husbands by wives', and impious mothers killedTheir helpless babes. Stepmothers need no words;The very beasts are kind compared with them.Of all these evils woman was the cause,The leader she. She with her wicked artsBesets the minds of men; and all for her560And her vile, lustful ways, unnumbered townsLie low in smoking heaps; whole nations rushTo arms; and kingdoms, utterly o'erthrown,Drag down their ruined peoples in their fall.Though I should name no other, Aegeus' wifeWould prove all womankind a curséd race.Nurse:Why blame all women for the crimes of few?565Hippolytus:I hate them all. I dread and shun and curseThem all. Whether from reason, instinct, blindAnd causeless madness, this I know—I hate.And sooner shall you fire and water wed;Sooner shall dangerous quicksands friendly turnAnd give safe anchorage; and sooner far570Shall Tethys from her utmost western boundsBring forth the shining day, and savage wolvesSmile kindly on the timid does, than I,O'ercome, feel ought but hate to womankind.Nurse:But oft doth love put reins on stubborn souls,And all their hatred to affection turns.575Behold thy mother's realm of warlike dames;Yet even they the sway of passion know.Of this thy birth itself is proof enough.Hippolytus:My comfort for my mother's loss is this,That now I'm free to hate all womankind.Nurse:As some hard crag, on every side unmoved,580Resists the waves, and dashes backward farThe opposing floods, so he doth spurn my words.But hither Phaedra comes with hasty step,Impatient of delay. What fate is hers?Or to what action doth her madness tend?[Phaedraenters and falls fainting to the earth.]But see, in sudden fainting fit she falls,585And deathlike pallor overspreads her face.[Hippolytushastens to raise her up in his arms.]Lift up thy face, speak out, my daughter, see,Thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.Phaedra[recovering from her faint]: Who gives me back to griefs, and floods againMy soul with heavy care? How well for meHad I sunk down to death!590Hippolytus:But why, poor soul,Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?Phaedra[aside]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command.Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fearSuggests a prompt refusal. Even nowThe greater part of my offense is done.Too late my present modesty. My love,595I know, is base; but if I persevere,Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin.Success makes certain sins respectable.Come now, begin.[ToHippolytus].Bend lower down thine ear,I pray; if any comrade be at hand,Let him depart, that we may speak alone.600Hippolytus:Behold, the place is free from witnesses.Phaedra:My lips refuse to speak my waiting words;A mighty force compels my utterance,A mightier holds it back. Ye heavenly powers,I call ye all to witness, what I wish—605Hippolytus:Thy heart desires and cannot tell its wish?Phaedra:Light cares speak out, the weighty have no words.Hippolytus:Into my ears, my mother, tell thy cares.Phaedra:The name of mother is too proud and high;My heart dictates some humbler name than that.610Pray call me sister—slave, Hippolytus.Yes, slave I'd be. I'll bear all servitude;And shouldst thou bid me tread the driven snows,To walk along high Pindus' frozen peaks,I'd not refuse; no, not if thou shouldst bidMe go through fire, and serried ranks of foes,615I would not hesitate to bare my breastUnto the naked swords. Take thou the powerWhich was consigned to me. Make me thy slave.Rule thou the state, and let me subject be.It is no woman's task to guard this realmOf many towns. Do thou, who in the flower620Of youth rejoicest, rule the citizensWith strong paternal sway. But me receiveInto thy arms, and there protect thy slaveAnd suppliant. My widowhood relieve.Hippolytus:May God on high this omen dark avert!My father will in safety soon return.Phaedra:Not so: the king of that fast-holding realm625And silent Styx has never opened backThe doors of earth to those who once have leftThe realms above. Think'st thou that he will looseThe ravisher of his couch? Unless, indeed,Grim Pluto has at last grown mild to love.Hippolytus:The righteous gods of heaven will bring him back.But while the gods still hold our prayers in doubt,630My brothers will I make my pious care,And thee as well. Think not thou art bereft;For I will fill for thee my father's place.Phaedra[aside]: Oh, hope of lovers, easily beguiled!Deceitful love! Has he[21]not said enough?635I'll ply him now with prayers.[ToHippolytus.]Oh, pity me.Hear thou the prayers which I must only think.I long to utter them, but am ashamed.Hippolytus:What is thy trouble then?Phaedra:A trouble mine,Which thou wouldst scarce believe could vex the soulOf any stepdame.Hippolytus:Speak more openly;In doubtful words thy meaning thou dost wrap.Phaedra:My maddened heart with burning love is scorched;640My inmost marrow is devoured with love;And through my veins and vitals steals the fire,As when the flames through roomy holds of shipsRun darting.645Hippolytus:Surely with a modest loveFor Theseus thou dost burn.Phaedra:Hippolytus,'Tis thus with me: I love those former looksOf Theseus, which in early manhood onceHe wore, when first a beard began to showUpon his modest cheeks, what time he sawThe Cretan monster's hidden lurking-place,And by a thread his labyrinthine way650Retraced. Oh, what a glorious sight he was!Soft fillets held in check his flowing locks,And modesty upon his tender faceGlowed blushing red. His soft-appearing armsBut half concealed his muscles' manly strength.His face was like thy heavenly Phoebe's face,Or my Apollo's, or 'twas like thine own.655Like thee, like thee he was when first he pleasedHis enemy. Just so he proudly heldHis head erect; still more in thee shines outThat beauty unadorned; in thee I findThy father all. And yet thy mother's sternAnd lofty beauty has some share in thee;Her Scythian firmness tempers Grecian grace.660If with thy father thou hadst sailed to Crete,My sister would have spun the thread for theeAnd not for him. O sister, wheresoe'erIn heaven's starry vault thou shinest, thee,Oh, thee I call to aid my hapless cause,So like thine own. One house has overthrown665Two sisters, thee the father, me the son.[ToHippolytus.]Behold, as suppliant, fallen to thy knees,A royal princess kneels. Without a spotOf sin, unstained and innocent, was I;And thou alone hast wrought the change in me.See at thy feet I kneel and pray, resolvedThis day shall end my misery or life.670Oh, pity her who loves thee—Hippolytus:God in heaven,Great ruler of all gods, dost thou this sinSo calmly hear, so calmly see? If nowThou hurlest not thy bolt with deadly hand,What shameful cause will ever send it forth?Let all the sky in shattered ruins fall,And hide the light of day in murky clouds.675Let stars turn back, and trace again their courseAthwart their proper ways. And thou, great starOf stars, thou radiant Sun, let not thine eyesBehold the impious shame of this thy stock;But hide thy face, and to the darkness fleeWhy is thy hand, O king of gods and men,680Inactive? Why by forkéd lightning's brandsIs not the world in flames? Direct thy boltsAt me; pierce me. Let that fierce darting flameConsume me quite, for mine is all the blame.I ought to die, for I have favor foundIn my stepmother's eyes.[ToPhaedra.]Did I seem oneTo thee to do this vile and shameful thing?Did I seem easy fuel to thy fire,685I only? Has my virtuous life deservedSuch estimate? Thou, worse than all thy kind!Thou woman, who hast in thy heart conceivedA deed more shameful than thy mother's sin,Whose womb gave monstrous birth; thou worse than she!She stained herself with vilest lust, and long690Concealed the deed. But all in vain: at last,Her two-formed child revealed his mother's crime,And by his fierce bull-visage proved her guilt.Of such a womb and mother art thou born.Oh, thrice and four times blesséd is their lotWhom hate and treachery give o'er and doom695To death. O father, how I envy thee!Thy stepdame was the Colchian; but this,This woman is a greater curse than she.Phaedra:I clearly see the destiny of my house:We follow ever what we should avoid.But I have given over self-control;I'll follow thee through fire, through raging sea,700O'er ragged cliffs, through roaring torrents wild—Wherever thou dost go, in mad pursuitI shall be borne. Again, O haughty one,I fall in suppliance and embrace thy knees.Hippolytus:Away from my chaste body with thy touchImpure! What more? She falls upon my breast!705I'll draw my sword and smite as she deserves.See, by her twisted locks, I backward bendHer shameless head. No blood more worthilyWas ever spilled, O goddess of the bow,Upon thy altars.Phaedra:Now, Hippolytus,710Thou dost fulfil the fondest wish of mine;Thou sav'st me from my madness; greater farThan all my hopes, that by the hands I love,By thine own hands, I perish ere I sin.Hippolytus:Then live, be gone! Thou shalt gain naught from me.And this my sword, defiled by thy base touch,No more shall hang upon my modest side.[He throws his sword from him.]What Tanaïs will make me clean again?715Or what Maeotis rushing to the sea,With its barbaric waves? Not Neptune's self,With all his ocean's waters could availTo cleanse so foul a stain. O woods! O beasts!

Hippolytus:Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet,O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad,Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sireIn safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.

Hippolytus:Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet,

O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad,

Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sire

In safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.

Nurse:Thou need'st not fear for them; the kingdom stands435In prosperous estate, and all thy houseRejoices in the blessings of the gods.But Oh, do thou with greater kindness lookUpon thy fortune. For my heart is vexedAnd anxious for thy sake; for thou thyselfWith grievous sufferings dost bruise thy soul.If fate compels it, one may be forgiven440For wretchedness; but if, of his own will,A man prefers to live in misery,Brings tortures on himself, then he deservesTo lose those gifts he knows not how to use.Be mindful of thy youth; relax thy mind.Lift high the blazing torch on festal nights;Let Bacchus free thee from thy weighty cares;445Enjoy this time which speeds so swiftly by.Now is the time when love comes easily,And smiles on youth. Come, let thy soul rejoice.Why dost thou lie upon a lonely couch?Dissolve in pleasures that grim mood of thine,And snatch the passing joys;[20]let loose the reins.450Forbid that these, the best days of thy life,Should vanish unenjoyed. Its proper hueHas God allotted to each time of life,And leads from step to step the age of man.So joy becomes the young, a face severeThe agéd. Why dost thou restrain thyself,And strangle at their birth the joys of life?That crop rewards the farmer's labor most455Which in the young and tender sprouting-timeRuns riot in the fields. With lofty topThat tree will overspread the neighboring grove,Which no begrudging hand cuts back or prunes.So do our inborn powers a richer fruitOf praise and glory bear, if liberty,Unchecked and boundless, feed the noble soul.460Thou, harsh, uncouth, and ignorant of life,Dost spend thy youth to joy and love unknown.Think'st thou that this is man's allotted task,To suffer hardships, curb the rushing steeds,And fight like savage beasts in bloody war?465When he beheld the boundless greed of death,The mighty father of the world ordainedA means by which the race might be renewed.Suppose the power of Venus over menShould cease, who doth supply and still renew470The stream of life, then would this lovely worldBecome a foul, unsightly thing indeed:The sea would bear no fish within its waves,The woods no beasts of prey, the air no birds;But through its empty space the winds aloneWould rove. How various the forms of death475That seize and feed upon our mortal race:The wrecking sea, the sword, and treachery!But say that these are lacking: still we fallOf our own gravity to gloomy Styx.Suppose our youth should choose a mateless life,And live in childless state: then all this worldOf teeming life which thou dost see, would liveThis generation only, and would fall480In ruins on itself. Then spend thy lifeAs nature doth direct; frequent the town,And live in friendly union with thy kind.

Nurse:Thou need'st not fear for them; the kingdom stands435

In prosperous estate, and all thy house

Rejoices in the blessings of the gods.

But Oh, do thou with greater kindness look

Upon thy fortune. For my heart is vexed

And anxious for thy sake; for thou thyself

With grievous sufferings dost bruise thy soul.

If fate compels it, one may be forgiven440

For wretchedness; but if, of his own will,

A man prefers to live in misery,

Brings tortures on himself, then he deserves

To lose those gifts he knows not how to use.

Be mindful of thy youth; relax thy mind.

Lift high the blazing torch on festal nights;

Let Bacchus free thee from thy weighty cares;445

Enjoy this time which speeds so swiftly by.

Now is the time when love comes easily,

And smiles on youth. Come, let thy soul rejoice.

Why dost thou lie upon a lonely couch?

Dissolve in pleasures that grim mood of thine,

And snatch the passing joys;[20]let loose the reins.450

Forbid that these, the best days of thy life,

Should vanish unenjoyed. Its proper hue

Has God allotted to each time of life,

And leads from step to step the age of man.

So joy becomes the young, a face severe

The agéd. Why dost thou restrain thyself,

And strangle at their birth the joys of life?

That crop rewards the farmer's labor most455

Which in the young and tender sprouting-time

Runs riot in the fields. With lofty top

That tree will overspread the neighboring grove,

Which no begrudging hand cuts back or prunes.

So do our inborn powers a richer fruit

Of praise and glory bear, if liberty,

Unchecked and boundless, feed the noble soul.460

Thou, harsh, uncouth, and ignorant of life,

Dost spend thy youth to joy and love unknown.

Think'st thou that this is man's allotted task,

To suffer hardships, curb the rushing steeds,

And fight like savage beasts in bloody war?465

When he beheld the boundless greed of death,

The mighty father of the world ordained

A means by which the race might be renewed.

Suppose the power of Venus over men

Should cease, who doth supply and still renew470

The stream of life, then would this lovely world

Become a foul, unsightly thing indeed:

The sea would bear no fish within its waves,

The woods no beasts of prey, the air no birds;

But through its empty space the winds alone

Would rove. How various the forms of death475

That seize and feed upon our mortal race:

The wrecking sea, the sword, and treachery!

But say that these are lacking: still we fall

Of our own gravity to gloomy Styx.

Suppose our youth should choose a mateless life,

And live in childless state: then all this world

Of teeming life which thou dost see, would live

This generation only, and would fall480

In ruins on itself. Then spend thy life

As nature doth direct; frequent the town,

And live in friendly union with thy kind.

Hippolytus:There is no life so free, so innocent,Which better cherishes the ancient rites,Than that which spurns the crowded ways of menAnd seeks the silent places of the woods.485His soul no maddening greed of gain inflamesWho on the lofty levels of the hillsHis blameless pleasures finds. No fickle breathOf passing favor frets him here, no stingOf base ingratitude, no poisonous hate.He fears no kingdom's laws; nor, in the quest490Of power, does he pursue the phantom shapesOf fame and wealth. From hope and fear alikeIs he removed. No black and biting spiteWith base, malicious tooth preys on him here.He never hears of those base, shameful thingsThat spawn amid the city's teeming throngs.It is not his with guilty heart to quakeAt every sound; he need not hide his thoughts495With guileful words; in pride of sinful wealthHe seeks to own no lordly palace proppedUpon a thousand pillars, with its beamsIn flaunting arrogance incased with gold.No streams of blood his pious altars drench;No hecatombs of snowy bullocks stand500Foredoomed to death, their foreheads sprinkled o'erWith sacred meal; but in the spacious fields,Beneath the sky, in fearless innocence,He wanders lord of all. His only guile,To set the cunning snare for beasts of pray;And, when o'erspent with labors of the chase,He soothes his body in the shining streamOf cool Ilissus. Now swift Alpheus' banks505He skirts, and now the lofty forest's deep,Dense places treads, where Lerna, clear and cool,Pours forth her glimmering streams.Here twittering birds make all the woods resound,And through the branches of the ancient beechThe leaves are all a-flutter in the breeze.510How sweet upon some vagrant river's bank,Or on the verdant turf, to lie at length,And quaff one's fill of deep, delicious sleep,Whether in hurrying floods some copious streamPours down its waves, or through the vernal flowersSome murmuring brook sings sweetly as it flows.The windfall apples of the wood appease515His hunger, while the ripening berries pluckedFrom wayside thickets grant an easy meal.He gladly shuns the luxuries of kings.Let mighty lords from anxious cups of goldTheir nectar quaff; for him how sweet to catchWith naked hand the water of the spring!520More certain slumber soothes him, though his couchBe hard, if free from care he lay him down.With guilty soul he seeks no shameful deedsIn nooks remote upon some hidden couch,Nor timorous hides in labyrinthine cell;He courts the open air and light of day,And lives before the conscious eye of heaven.525Such was the life, I think, the ancients lived,Those primal men who mingled with the gods.They were not blinded by the love of gold;No sacred stone divided off the fieldsAnd lotted each his own in judgment there.Nor yet did vessels rashly plow the seas;530But each his native waters knew alone.Then cities were not girt with massive walls,With frequent towers set; no soldier thereTo savage arms his hands applied, nor burstThe close-barred gates with huge and heavy stonesFrom ponderous engines hurled. As yet the earth535Endured no master's rule, nor felt the swayOf laboring oxen yoked in common toil;But all the fields, self-fruitful, fed mankind,Who took and asked no more. The woods gave wealth,And shady grottoes natural homes supplied.Unholy greed first broke these peaceful bonds,540And headlong wrath, and lust which sets aflameThe hearts of men. Then came the cruel thirstFor empire; and the weak became the preyOf strong, and might was counted right. At firstMen fought with naked fists, but soon they turned545Rough clubs and stones to use of arms. Not yetWere cornel spears with slender points of iron,And long, sharp-pointed swords, and crested helms.Such weapons wrath invented. Warlike MarsProduced new arts of strife, and forms of death550In countless numbers made. Thence streams of goreStained every land, and reddened every sea.Then crime, o'erleaping every bound, ran wild;Invaded every home. No hideous deedWas left undone: but brothers by the hand555Of brothers fell, parents by children's hands,Husbands by wives', and impious mothers killedTheir helpless babes. Stepmothers need no words;The very beasts are kind compared with them.Of all these evils woman was the cause,The leader she. She with her wicked artsBesets the minds of men; and all for her560And her vile, lustful ways, unnumbered townsLie low in smoking heaps; whole nations rushTo arms; and kingdoms, utterly o'erthrown,Drag down their ruined peoples in their fall.Though I should name no other, Aegeus' wifeWould prove all womankind a curséd race.

Hippolytus:There is no life so free, so innocent,

Which better cherishes the ancient rites,

Than that which spurns the crowded ways of men

And seeks the silent places of the woods.485

His soul no maddening greed of gain inflames

Who on the lofty levels of the hills

His blameless pleasures finds. No fickle breath

Of passing favor frets him here, no sting

Of base ingratitude, no poisonous hate.

He fears no kingdom's laws; nor, in the quest490

Of power, does he pursue the phantom shapes

Of fame and wealth. From hope and fear alike

Is he removed. No black and biting spite

With base, malicious tooth preys on him here.

He never hears of those base, shameful things

That spawn amid the city's teeming throngs.

It is not his with guilty heart to quake

At every sound; he need not hide his thoughts495

With guileful words; in pride of sinful wealth

He seeks to own no lordly palace propped

Upon a thousand pillars, with its beams

In flaunting arrogance incased with gold.

No streams of blood his pious altars drench;

No hecatombs of snowy bullocks stand500

Foredoomed to death, their foreheads sprinkled o'er

With sacred meal; but in the spacious fields,

Beneath the sky, in fearless innocence,

He wanders lord of all. His only guile,

To set the cunning snare for beasts of pray;

And, when o'erspent with labors of the chase,

He soothes his body in the shining stream

Of cool Ilissus. Now swift Alpheus' banks505

He skirts, and now the lofty forest's deep,

Dense places treads, where Lerna, clear and cool,

Pours forth her glimmering streams.

Here twittering birds make all the woods resound,

And through the branches of the ancient beech

The leaves are all a-flutter in the breeze.510

How sweet upon some vagrant river's bank,

Or on the verdant turf, to lie at length,

And quaff one's fill of deep, delicious sleep,

Whether in hurrying floods some copious stream

Pours down its waves, or through the vernal flowers

Some murmuring brook sings sweetly as it flows.

The windfall apples of the wood appease515

His hunger, while the ripening berries plucked

From wayside thickets grant an easy meal.

He gladly shuns the luxuries of kings.

Let mighty lords from anxious cups of gold

Their nectar quaff; for him how sweet to catch

With naked hand the water of the spring!520

More certain slumber soothes him, though his couch

Be hard, if free from care he lay him down.

With guilty soul he seeks no shameful deeds

In nooks remote upon some hidden couch,

Nor timorous hides in labyrinthine cell;

He courts the open air and light of day,

And lives before the conscious eye of heaven.525

Such was the life, I think, the ancients lived,

Those primal men who mingled with the gods.

They were not blinded by the love of gold;

No sacred stone divided off the fields

And lotted each his own in judgment there.

Nor yet did vessels rashly plow the seas;530

But each his native waters knew alone.

Then cities were not girt with massive walls,

With frequent towers set; no soldier there

To savage arms his hands applied, nor burst

The close-barred gates with huge and heavy stones

From ponderous engines hurled. As yet the earth535

Endured no master's rule, nor felt the sway

Of laboring oxen yoked in common toil;

But all the fields, self-fruitful, fed mankind,

Who took and asked no more. The woods gave wealth,

And shady grottoes natural homes supplied.

Unholy greed first broke these peaceful bonds,540

And headlong wrath, and lust which sets aflame

The hearts of men. Then came the cruel thirst

For empire; and the weak became the prey

Of strong, and might was counted right. At first

Men fought with naked fists, but soon they turned545

Rough clubs and stones to use of arms. Not yet

Were cornel spears with slender points of iron,

And long, sharp-pointed swords, and crested helms.

Such weapons wrath invented. Warlike Mars

Produced new arts of strife, and forms of death550

In countless numbers made. Thence streams of gore

Stained every land, and reddened every sea.

Then crime, o'erleaping every bound, ran wild;

Invaded every home. No hideous deed

Was left undone: but brothers by the hand555

Of brothers fell, parents by children's hands,

Husbands by wives', and impious mothers killed

Their helpless babes. Stepmothers need no words;

The very beasts are kind compared with them.

Of all these evils woman was the cause,

The leader she. She with her wicked arts

Besets the minds of men; and all for her560

And her vile, lustful ways, unnumbered towns

Lie low in smoking heaps; whole nations rush

To arms; and kingdoms, utterly o'erthrown,

Drag down their ruined peoples in their fall.

Though I should name no other, Aegeus' wife

Would prove all womankind a curséd race.

Nurse:Why blame all women for the crimes of few?565

Hippolytus:I hate them all. I dread and shun and curseThem all. Whether from reason, instinct, blindAnd causeless madness, this I know—I hate.And sooner shall you fire and water wed;Sooner shall dangerous quicksands friendly turnAnd give safe anchorage; and sooner far570Shall Tethys from her utmost western boundsBring forth the shining day, and savage wolvesSmile kindly on the timid does, than I,O'ercome, feel ought but hate to womankind.

Hippolytus:I hate them all. I dread and shun and curse

Them all. Whether from reason, instinct, blind

And causeless madness, this I know—I hate.

And sooner shall you fire and water wed;

Sooner shall dangerous quicksands friendly turn

And give safe anchorage; and sooner far570

Shall Tethys from her utmost western bounds

Bring forth the shining day, and savage wolves

Smile kindly on the timid does, than I,

O'ercome, feel ought but hate to womankind.

Nurse:But oft doth love put reins on stubborn souls,And all their hatred to affection turns.575Behold thy mother's realm of warlike dames;Yet even they the sway of passion know.Of this thy birth itself is proof enough.

Nurse:But oft doth love put reins on stubborn souls,

And all their hatred to affection turns.575

Behold thy mother's realm of warlike dames;

Yet even they the sway of passion know.

Of this thy birth itself is proof enough.

Hippolytus:My comfort for my mother's loss is this,That now I'm free to hate all womankind.

Hippolytus:My comfort for my mother's loss is this,

That now I'm free to hate all womankind.

Nurse:As some hard crag, on every side unmoved,580Resists the waves, and dashes backward farThe opposing floods, so he doth spurn my words.But hither Phaedra comes with hasty step,Impatient of delay. What fate is hers?Or to what action doth her madness tend?[Phaedraenters and falls fainting to the earth.]But see, in sudden fainting fit she falls,585And deathlike pallor overspreads her face.[Hippolytushastens to raise her up in his arms.]Lift up thy face, speak out, my daughter, see,Thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.

Nurse:As some hard crag, on every side unmoved,580

Resists the waves, and dashes backward far

The opposing floods, so he doth spurn my words.

But hither Phaedra comes with hasty step,

Impatient of delay. What fate is hers?

Or to what action doth her madness tend?

[Phaedraenters and falls fainting to the earth.]

But see, in sudden fainting fit she falls,585

And deathlike pallor overspreads her face.

[Hippolytushastens to raise her up in his arms.]

Lift up thy face, speak out, my daughter, see,

Thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.

Phaedra[recovering from her faint]: Who gives me back to griefs, and floods againMy soul with heavy care? How well for meHad I sunk down to death!590

Phaedra[recovering from her faint]: Who gives me back to griefs, and floods again

My soul with heavy care? How well for me

Had I sunk down to death!590

Hippolytus:But why, poor soul,Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?

Hippolytus:But why, poor soul,

Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?

Phaedra[aside]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command.Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fearSuggests a prompt refusal. Even nowThe greater part of my offense is done.Too late my present modesty. My love,595I know, is base; but if I persevere,Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin.Success makes certain sins respectable.Come now, begin.[ToHippolytus].Bend lower down thine ear,I pray; if any comrade be at hand,Let him depart, that we may speak alone.600

Phaedra[aside]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command.

Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fear

Suggests a prompt refusal. Even now

The greater part of my offense is done.

Too late my present modesty. My love,595

I know, is base; but if I persevere,

Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin.

Success makes certain sins respectable.

Come now, begin.

[ToHippolytus].

Bend lower down thine ear,

I pray; if any comrade be at hand,

Let him depart, that we may speak alone.600

Hippolytus:Behold, the place is free from witnesses.

Phaedra:My lips refuse to speak my waiting words;A mighty force compels my utterance,A mightier holds it back. Ye heavenly powers,I call ye all to witness, what I wish—605

Phaedra:My lips refuse to speak my waiting words;

A mighty force compels my utterance,

A mightier holds it back. Ye heavenly powers,

I call ye all to witness, what I wish—605

Hippolytus:Thy heart desires and cannot tell its wish?

Phaedra:Light cares speak out, the weighty have no words.

Hippolytus:Into my ears, my mother, tell thy cares.

Phaedra:The name of mother is too proud and high;My heart dictates some humbler name than that.610Pray call me sister—slave, Hippolytus.Yes, slave I'd be. I'll bear all servitude;And shouldst thou bid me tread the driven snows,To walk along high Pindus' frozen peaks,I'd not refuse; no, not if thou shouldst bidMe go through fire, and serried ranks of foes,615I would not hesitate to bare my breastUnto the naked swords. Take thou the powerWhich was consigned to me. Make me thy slave.Rule thou the state, and let me subject be.It is no woman's task to guard this realmOf many towns. Do thou, who in the flower620Of youth rejoicest, rule the citizensWith strong paternal sway. But me receiveInto thy arms, and there protect thy slaveAnd suppliant. My widowhood relieve.

Phaedra:The name of mother is too proud and high;

My heart dictates some humbler name than that.610

Pray call me sister—slave, Hippolytus.

Yes, slave I'd be. I'll bear all servitude;

And shouldst thou bid me tread the driven snows,

To walk along high Pindus' frozen peaks,

I'd not refuse; no, not if thou shouldst bid

Me go through fire, and serried ranks of foes,615

I would not hesitate to bare my breast

Unto the naked swords. Take thou the power

Which was consigned to me. Make me thy slave.

Rule thou the state, and let me subject be.

It is no woman's task to guard this realm

Of many towns. Do thou, who in the flower620

Of youth rejoicest, rule the citizens

With strong paternal sway. But me receive

Into thy arms, and there protect thy slave

And suppliant. My widowhood relieve.

Hippolytus:May God on high this omen dark avert!My father will in safety soon return.

Hippolytus:May God on high this omen dark avert!

My father will in safety soon return.

Phaedra:Not so: the king of that fast-holding realm625And silent Styx has never opened backThe doors of earth to those who once have leftThe realms above. Think'st thou that he will looseThe ravisher of his couch? Unless, indeed,Grim Pluto has at last grown mild to love.

Phaedra:Not so: the king of that fast-holding realm625

And silent Styx has never opened back

The doors of earth to those who once have left

The realms above. Think'st thou that he will loose

The ravisher of his couch? Unless, indeed,

Grim Pluto has at last grown mild to love.

Hippolytus:The righteous gods of heaven will bring him back.But while the gods still hold our prayers in doubt,630My brothers will I make my pious care,And thee as well. Think not thou art bereft;For I will fill for thee my father's place.

Hippolytus:The righteous gods of heaven will bring him back.

But while the gods still hold our prayers in doubt,630

My brothers will I make my pious care,

And thee as well. Think not thou art bereft;

For I will fill for thee my father's place.

Phaedra[aside]: Oh, hope of lovers, easily beguiled!Deceitful love! Has he[21]not said enough?635I'll ply him now with prayers.[ToHippolytus.]Oh, pity me.Hear thou the prayers which I must only think.I long to utter them, but am ashamed.

Phaedra[aside]: Oh, hope of lovers, easily beguiled!

Deceitful love! Has he[21]not said enough?635

I'll ply him now with prayers.

[ToHippolytus.]

Oh, pity me.

Hear thou the prayers which I must only think.

I long to utter them, but am ashamed.

Hippolytus:What is thy trouble then?

Phaedra:A trouble mine,Which thou wouldst scarce believe could vex the soulOf any stepdame.

Phaedra:A trouble mine,

Which thou wouldst scarce believe could vex the soul

Of any stepdame.

Hippolytus:Speak more openly;In doubtful words thy meaning thou dost wrap.

Hippolytus:Speak more openly;

In doubtful words thy meaning thou dost wrap.

Phaedra:My maddened heart with burning love is scorched;640My inmost marrow is devoured with love;And through my veins and vitals steals the fire,As when the flames through roomy holds of shipsRun darting.645

Phaedra:My maddened heart with burning love is scorched;640

My inmost marrow is devoured with love;

And through my veins and vitals steals the fire,

As when the flames through roomy holds of ships

Run darting.645

Hippolytus:Surely with a modest loveFor Theseus thou dost burn.

Hippolytus:Surely with a modest love

For Theseus thou dost burn.

Phaedra:Hippolytus,'Tis thus with me: I love those former looksOf Theseus, which in early manhood onceHe wore, when first a beard began to showUpon his modest cheeks, what time he sawThe Cretan monster's hidden lurking-place,And by a thread his labyrinthine way650Retraced. Oh, what a glorious sight he was!Soft fillets held in check his flowing locks,And modesty upon his tender faceGlowed blushing red. His soft-appearing armsBut half concealed his muscles' manly strength.His face was like thy heavenly Phoebe's face,Or my Apollo's, or 'twas like thine own.655Like thee, like thee he was when first he pleasedHis enemy. Just so he proudly heldHis head erect; still more in thee shines outThat beauty unadorned; in thee I findThy father all. And yet thy mother's sternAnd lofty beauty has some share in thee;Her Scythian firmness tempers Grecian grace.660If with thy father thou hadst sailed to Crete,My sister would have spun the thread for theeAnd not for him. O sister, wheresoe'erIn heaven's starry vault thou shinest, thee,Oh, thee I call to aid my hapless cause,So like thine own. One house has overthrown665Two sisters, thee the father, me the son.[ToHippolytus.]Behold, as suppliant, fallen to thy knees,A royal princess kneels. Without a spotOf sin, unstained and innocent, was I;And thou alone hast wrought the change in me.See at thy feet I kneel and pray, resolvedThis day shall end my misery or life.670Oh, pity her who loves thee—

Phaedra:Hippolytus,

'Tis thus with me: I love those former looks

Of Theseus, which in early manhood once

He wore, when first a beard began to show

Upon his modest cheeks, what time he saw

The Cretan monster's hidden lurking-place,

And by a thread his labyrinthine way650

Retraced. Oh, what a glorious sight he was!

Soft fillets held in check his flowing locks,

And modesty upon his tender face

Glowed blushing red. His soft-appearing arms

But half concealed his muscles' manly strength.

His face was like thy heavenly Phoebe's face,

Or my Apollo's, or 'twas like thine own.655

Like thee, like thee he was when first he pleased

His enemy. Just so he proudly held

His head erect; still more in thee shines out

That beauty unadorned; in thee I find

Thy father all. And yet thy mother's stern

And lofty beauty has some share in thee;

Her Scythian firmness tempers Grecian grace.660

If with thy father thou hadst sailed to Crete,

My sister would have spun the thread for thee

And not for him. O sister, wheresoe'er

In heaven's starry vault thou shinest, thee,

Oh, thee I call to aid my hapless cause,

So like thine own. One house has overthrown665

Two sisters, thee the father, me the son.

[ToHippolytus.]

Behold, as suppliant, fallen to thy knees,

A royal princess kneels. Without a spot

Of sin, unstained and innocent, was I;

And thou alone hast wrought the change in me.

See at thy feet I kneel and pray, resolved

This day shall end my misery or life.670

Oh, pity her who loves thee—

Hippolytus:God in heaven,Great ruler of all gods, dost thou this sinSo calmly hear, so calmly see? If nowThou hurlest not thy bolt with deadly hand,What shameful cause will ever send it forth?Let all the sky in shattered ruins fall,And hide the light of day in murky clouds.675Let stars turn back, and trace again their courseAthwart their proper ways. And thou, great starOf stars, thou radiant Sun, let not thine eyesBehold the impious shame of this thy stock;But hide thy face, and to the darkness fleeWhy is thy hand, O king of gods and men,680Inactive? Why by forkéd lightning's brandsIs not the world in flames? Direct thy boltsAt me; pierce me. Let that fierce darting flameConsume me quite, for mine is all the blame.I ought to die, for I have favor foundIn my stepmother's eyes.[ToPhaedra.]Did I seem oneTo thee to do this vile and shameful thing?Did I seem easy fuel to thy fire,685I only? Has my virtuous life deservedSuch estimate? Thou, worse than all thy kind!Thou woman, who hast in thy heart conceivedA deed more shameful than thy mother's sin,Whose womb gave monstrous birth; thou worse than she!She stained herself with vilest lust, and long690Concealed the deed. But all in vain: at last,Her two-formed child revealed his mother's crime,And by his fierce bull-visage proved her guilt.Of such a womb and mother art thou born.Oh, thrice and four times blesséd is their lotWhom hate and treachery give o'er and doom695To death. O father, how I envy thee!Thy stepdame was the Colchian; but this,This woman is a greater curse than she.

Hippolytus:God in heaven,

Great ruler of all gods, dost thou this sin

So calmly hear, so calmly see? If now

Thou hurlest not thy bolt with deadly hand,

What shameful cause will ever send it forth?

Let all the sky in shattered ruins fall,

And hide the light of day in murky clouds.675

Let stars turn back, and trace again their course

Athwart their proper ways. And thou, great star

Of stars, thou radiant Sun, let not thine eyes

Behold the impious shame of this thy stock;

But hide thy face, and to the darkness flee

Why is thy hand, O king of gods and men,680

Inactive? Why by forkéd lightning's brands

Is not the world in flames? Direct thy bolts

At me; pierce me. Let that fierce darting flame

Consume me quite, for mine is all the blame.

I ought to die, for I have favor found

In my stepmother's eyes.

[ToPhaedra.]

Did I seem one

To thee to do this vile and shameful thing?

Did I seem easy fuel to thy fire,685

I only? Has my virtuous life deserved

Such estimate? Thou, worse than all thy kind!

Thou woman, who hast in thy heart conceived

A deed more shameful than thy mother's sin,

Whose womb gave monstrous birth; thou worse than she!

She stained herself with vilest lust, and long690

Concealed the deed. But all in vain: at last,

Her two-formed child revealed his mother's crime,

And by his fierce bull-visage proved her guilt.

Of such a womb and mother art thou born.

Oh, thrice and four times blesséd is their lot

Whom hate and treachery give o'er and doom695

To death. O father, how I envy thee!

Thy stepdame was the Colchian; but this,

This woman is a greater curse than she.

Phaedra:I clearly see the destiny of my house:We follow ever what we should avoid.But I have given over self-control;I'll follow thee through fire, through raging sea,700O'er ragged cliffs, through roaring torrents wild—Wherever thou dost go, in mad pursuitI shall be borne. Again, O haughty one,I fall in suppliance and embrace thy knees.

Phaedra:I clearly see the destiny of my house:

We follow ever what we should avoid.

But I have given over self-control;

I'll follow thee through fire, through raging sea,700

O'er ragged cliffs, through roaring torrents wild—

Wherever thou dost go, in mad pursuit

I shall be borne. Again, O haughty one,

I fall in suppliance and embrace thy knees.

Hippolytus:Away from my chaste body with thy touchImpure! What more? She falls upon my breast!705I'll draw my sword and smite as she deserves.See, by her twisted locks, I backward bendHer shameless head. No blood more worthilyWas ever spilled, O goddess of the bow,Upon thy altars.

Hippolytus:Away from my chaste body with thy touch

Impure! What more? She falls upon my breast!705

I'll draw my sword and smite as she deserves.

See, by her twisted locks, I backward bend

Her shameless head. No blood more worthily

Was ever spilled, O goddess of the bow,

Upon thy altars.

Phaedra:Now, Hippolytus,710Thou dost fulfil the fondest wish of mine;Thou sav'st me from my madness; greater farThan all my hopes, that by the hands I love,By thine own hands, I perish ere I sin.

Phaedra:Now, Hippolytus,710

Thou dost fulfil the fondest wish of mine;

Thou sav'st me from my madness; greater far

Than all my hopes, that by the hands I love,

By thine own hands, I perish ere I sin.

Hippolytus:Then live, be gone! Thou shalt gain naught from me.And this my sword, defiled by thy base touch,No more shall hang upon my modest side.[He throws his sword from him.]What Tanaïs will make me clean again?715Or what Maeotis rushing to the sea,With its barbaric waves? Not Neptune's self,With all his ocean's waters could availTo cleanse so foul a stain. O woods! O beasts!

Hippolytus:Then live, be gone! Thou shalt gain naught from me.

And this my sword, defiled by thy base touch,

No more shall hang upon my modest side.

[He throws his sword from him.]

What Tanaïs will make me clean again?715

Or what Maeotis rushing to the sea,

With its barbaric waves? Not Neptune's self,

With all his ocean's waters could avail

To cleanse so foul a stain. O woods! O beasts!

[He rushes off into the depths of the forest.]

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