Chapter XXI: Act I

_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 vale 5
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 stand 10
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 lain 25
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 tracks 40
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 snares 45
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 sit 50
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 rule 55
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 pursues 60
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, 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 Dis 95
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 care 105
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 found 110
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 heart 115
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 need 120
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 avenge 125
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. 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 yoke 135
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 fall 140
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 sees 145
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 laws 150
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, avoid 170
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 world 175
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 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 mariner 180
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 huge 190
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 lust 195
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 hands 200
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 homes 210
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 power 215
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 night 220
Has plunged, beheld again the light of day.

_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 name 230
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 will 235
To follow him.

_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.

_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; 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 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 die
Self-slain? Thy deadly, raging purpose stay.
No one may easily come back to life.

_Phaedra:_ No argument can stay the will of one 265
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 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, 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 car 310
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 they 325
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 Nereids 335
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 herd 340
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_.