O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing
Through the swell and the storm-beating,
Bore us thy Prince's daughter,
Was it well she came from a joyous home
To a far King's bridal across the foam?
What joy hath her bridal brought her?
Sure some spell upon either hand
Flew with thee from the Cretan strand,
Seeking Athena's tower divine;
And there, where Munychus fronts the brine,
Crept by the shore-flung cables' line,
The curse from the Cretan water!
And for that dark spell that about her clings,
Sick desires of forbidden things
The soul of her rend and sever;
The bitter tide of calamity
Hath risen above her lips; and she,
Where bends she her last endeavour?
She will hie her alone to her bridal room,
And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom;
And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose,
A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose
The one strait way for fame, and lose
The Love and the pain for ever.
[ The Voice of the NURSE is heard from within, crying,
at first inarticulately, then clearly.]
VOICE
Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!
Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!
A WOMAN
God, is it so soon finished? That bright head
Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!
VOICE
O haste! This knot about her throat is made
So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade?
A WOMAN
Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within,
And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen?
ANOTHER
Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill r
In life, to finger at another's l
VOICE
Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing
That guards his empty castle for the King!
A WOMAN
Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said?
No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead!
[ The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed
the approach of THESEUS. He enters from the left; his dress and the
garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or
special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed.]
THESEUS
Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim
Within the house? The vassals' outcry came
To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet
To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet
With a joy held from God's Presence!
[ The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him.
A dirge-cry comes from the Castle.]
How?
Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow?
Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,
Returning thus, to find his empty chair!
[ The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward.]
LEADER
O Theseus, not on any old man's head
This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.
THESEUS
Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?
LEADER
Thy motherless children live, most grievously.
THESEUS
How sayst thou? What? My wife?...
Say how she died.
LEADER
In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.
THESEUS
A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all—
That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?
LEADER
We know no more. But now arrived we be,
Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity.
[THESEUS stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow.
He notices the wreath.]
THESEUS
What? And all garlanded I come to her
With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger!
Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo
The bolts; and let me see the bitter view
Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.
[ The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body
of PHAEDRA is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of
Handmaids, wailing.]
THE HANDMAIDS
Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:
A deed to wrap this roof in flame!
Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold?
Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame,
The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold?
O ill-starred Wife,
What brought this blackness over all thy life?
[ A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected.]
THESEUS
Ah me, this is the last
—Hear, O my countrymen!—and bitterest
Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,
How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!
Is it the stain of sins done long ago,
Some fell God still remembereth,
That must so dim and fret my life with death?
I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow
Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not.
Ah wife, sweet wife, what name
Can fit thine heavy lot?
Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame,
In one swift gust, where all things are forgot!
Alas! this misery!
Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled
From age to age on me,
For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.
LEADER
Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,
A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.
THESEUS
Deep, deep beneath the Earth,
Dark may my dwelling be,
And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,
O Love, of thy most sweet society.
This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine.
[ He turns suddenly on the Attendants.]
Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign
Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee?
[ He bends over PHAEDRA; then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up.]
What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death,
This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth?
[ There is no answer. He bends again over PHAEDRA.]
SOME WOMEN
Woe, woe! God brings to birth
A new grief here, close on the other's tread!
My life hath lost its worth.
May all go now with what is finishèd!
The castle of my King is overthrown,
A house no more, a house vanished and gone!
OTHER WOMEN
O God, if it may be in any way,
Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray!
I know not what is here: some unseen thing
That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing.
[THESEUS has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion.]
THESEUS
Oh, horror piled on horror!—Here is writ...
Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it?
LEADER
What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!
THESEUS
Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,
Things not to be forgotten?—Oh, to fly
And hide mine head! No more a man am I.
God what ghastly music echoes here!
LEADER
How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.
THESEUS
No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;
This deadly word,
That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,
Yet will not stay unheard.
[ He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present.]
Ho, hearken all this land!
[ The people gather expectantly about him.]
Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand
On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.
[ Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,
raises both arms to heaven. ]
Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,
Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own
Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,
Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,
If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.
LEADER
Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!
I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.
THESEUS
It may not be.—And more, I cast him out
From all my realms. He shall be held about
By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath
He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death;
Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea,
Shall live and drain the cup of misery.
LEADER
Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need.
Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed
For all thine house and folk—Great Theseus, hear!
[THESEUS stands silent in fierce gloom.
HIPPOLYTUS comes in from the right. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear
To help thee, but I see not yet the cause
That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.
[ The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,
and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on HIPPOLYTUS
and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier. ]
Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen
Dead!
[ Murmurs in the crowd. ]
'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.
'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run
Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.
What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?
[THESEUS remains silent. The murmurs increase. ]
Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,
Why art thou silent? What doth silence know
Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe?
And human hearts in sorrow crave the more,
For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore.
It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in
From one most near to thee, and more than kin.
THESEUS ( to himself )
Fond race of men, so striving and so blind,
Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find,
Desiring all and all imagining:
But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing,
To make a true heart there where no heart is!
HIPPOLYTUS
That were indeed beyond man's mysteries,
To make a false heart true against his will.
But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill,
Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow.
THESEUS ( as before )
O would that God had given us here below
Some test of love, some sifting of the soul,
To tell the false and true! Or through the whole
Of men two voices ran, one true and right,
The other as chance willed it; that we might
Convict the liar by the true man's tone,
And not live duped forever, every one!
HIPPOLYTUS ( misunderstanding him; then guessing at something
of the truth )
What? Hath some friend proved false?
Or in thine ear
Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here,
Though utterly innocent? [ Murmurs from the crowd.]
Yea, dazed am I;
'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry,
Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed!
THESEUS
O heart of man, what height wilt venture next?
What end comes to thy daring and thy crime?
For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb,
And every age break out in blood and lies
Beyond its fathers, must not God devise
Some new world far from ours, to hold therein
Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin?
Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life
Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;
And standeth here convicted by the dead,
A most black villain!
[HIPPOLYTUS falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe.]
Nay, hide not thine head!
Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.
Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!
Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;
Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked!
I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad,
To deem that Gods love best the base and bad.
Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure,
No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure
Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord;
Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard
Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries—
Now thou art caught and known!
Shun men like these,
I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase
their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace.
My wife is dead.—"Ha, so that saves thee now,"
That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou!
What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be
Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee?
"She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born
Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn
To the true brood."—A sorry bargainer
In the ills and goods of life thou makest her,
If all her best-beloved she cast away
To wreck blind hate on thee!—What, wilt thou say
"Through every woman's nature one blind strand
Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"—
Are we so different? Know I not the fire
And perilous flood of a young man's desire,
Desperate as any woman, and as blind,
When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind
Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou...
But what avail to wrangle with thee now,
When the dead speaks for all to understand,
A perfect witness!
Hie thee from this land
To exile with all speed. Come never more
To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore
Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!
What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,
And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so
Will bear men witness that I laid him low,
Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,
Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!
LEADER
Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men
Happy? The highest are cast down again.
HIPPOLYTUS
Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart
Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art
Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare,
Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair...
[ Murmurs again in the crowd.]
I have no skill before a crowd to tell
My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.—
Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude
In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude
With music.
None the less, since there is come
This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb,
But speak perforce... And there will I begin
Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin
Naked, and I not speak a word!
Dost see
This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee
There dwelleth not in these one man—deny
All that thou wilt!—more pure of sin than I.
Two things I know on earth: God's worship first;
Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst
To hold them clean of all unrighteousness.
Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less
Who yieldeth to the tempters.—How, thou say'st,
"Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest
Of no man. I am honest to the end,
Near or far off, with him I call my friend.
And most in that one thing, where now thy mesh
Would grip me, stainless quite! No woman's flesh
Hath e'er this body touched. Of all such deed
Naught wot I, save what things a man may read
In pictures or hear spoke; nor am I fain,
Being virgin-souled, to read or hear again.
My life of innocence moves thee not; so be it.
Show then what hath seduced me; let me see it.
Was that poor flesh so passing fair, beyond
All woman's loveliness?
Was I some fond
False plotter, that I schemed to win through her
Thy castle's heirdom? Fond indeed I were!
Nay, a stark madman! "But a crown," thou sayest,
"Usurped, is sweet." Nay, rather most unblest
To all wise-hearted; sweet to fools and them
Whose eyes are blinded by the diadem.
In contests of all valour fain would I
Lead Hellas; but in rank and majesty
Not lead, but be at ease, with good men near
To love me, free to work and not to fear.
That brings more joy than any crown or throne.
[ He sees from the demeanor of THESEUS and of the crowd that his words
are not winning them, but rather making them bitterer than before.
It comes to his lips to speak the whole truth.]
I have said my say; save one thing...one alone
O had I here some witness in my need,
As I was witness! Could she hear me plead,
Face me and face the sunlight; well I know,
Our deeds would search us out for thee, and show
Who lies!
But now, I swear—so hear me both,
The Earth beneath and Zeus who Guards the Oath—
I never touched this woman that was thine!
No words could win me to it, nor incline
My heart to dream it. May God strike me down,
Nameless and fameless, without home or town,
An outcast and a wanderer of the world;
May my dead bones rest never, but be hurled
From sea to land, from land to angry sea,
If evil is my heart and false to thee!
[ He waits a moment; but sees that his Father is unmoved.
The truth again comes to his lips.]
If 'twas some fear that made her cast away
Her life... I know not. More I must not say.
Right hath she done when in her was no right;
And Right I follow to mine own despite!
LEADER
It is enough! God's name is witness large,
And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,
THESEUS
Is not the man a juggler and a mage,
Cool wits and one right oath—what more?—to assuage
Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!
HIPPOLYTUS
Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood
That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou
The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now
In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,
I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,
But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!
THESEUS
Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped
To simple death, nor by thine own decree.
Swift death is bliss to men in misery.
Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain
Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!
HIPPOLYTUS
Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,
Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?
THESEUS
Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red
Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.
HIPPOLYTUS
Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word
To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?
THESEUS
This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot
To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not
Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.
HIPPOLYTUS
O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I
My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,
Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!
The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain
To trust me. I should break mine oath in vain.
THESEUS
Death! but he chokes me with his saintly tone!—
Up, get thee from this land! Begone! Begone!
HIPPOLYTUS
Where shall I turn me? Think. To what friend's door
Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?
THESEUS
Whoso delights to welcome to his hall
Vile ravishers... to guard his hearth withal!
HIPPOLYTUS
Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be
Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!
THESEUS
There was a time for tears and thought; the time
Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.
HIPPOLYTUS
Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!
Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!
THESEUS
Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here
A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!
HIPPOLYTUS
Alas!
Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see
My face, and weep for very pity of me!
THESEUS
Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought
For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!
HIPPOLYTUS
O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!
May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!
THESEUS ( in a sudden blaze of rage )
Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,
'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?
[ The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand
Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.
THESEUS
That will I straight, unless my will be done!
[HIPPOLYTUS comes close to him and kneels. ]
Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!
[HIPPOLYTUS rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away.
THESEUS, as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the
Castle. The door is closed again. HIPPOLYTUS has stopped for a
moment before the Statue of ARTEMIS, and, as THESEUS departs,
breaks out in prayer. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
So; it is done! O dark and miserable!
I see it all, but see not how to tell
The tale.—O thou belovèd, Leto's Maid,
Chase-comrade, fellow-rester in the glade,
Lo, I am driven with a caitiff's brand
Forth from great Athens! Fare ye well, O land
And city of old Erechtheus! Thou, Trozên,
What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen
In thy brplain! Farewell! This is the end;
The last word, the last look!
Come, every friend
And fellow of my youth that still may stay,
Give me god-speed and cheer me on my way.
Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot
Than me, though mine own Father loves me not!
[HIPPOLYTUS goes away to the right, followed by many Huntsmen and other
young men. The rest of the crowd has by this time dispersed, except the
Women of the Chorus and some Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen.]
CHORUS
Men
Surely the thought of the Gods hath balm in it alway, to win me
Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the dark of my mind,
Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit within me
Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with the guerdon they find.
For Good comes in Evil's traces,
And the Evil the Good replaces;
And Life, 'mid the changing faces,
Wandereth weak and blind.
Women
What wilt thou grant me, O God? Lo, this is the prayer of my travail—
Some well-being; and chance not very bitter thereby;
Spirit uncrippled by pain; and a mind not deep to unravel
Truth unseen, nor yet dark with the brand of a lie.
With a veering mood to borrow
Its light from every morrow,
Fair friends and no deep sorrow,
Well could man live and die!
Men
Yet my spirit is no more clean,
And the weft of my hope is torn,
For the deed of wrong that mine eyes have seen,
The lie and the rage and the scorn;
A Star among men, yea, a Star
That in Hellas was bright,
By a Father's wrath driven far
To the wilds and the night.
Oh, alas for the sands of the shore!
Alas for the brakes of the hill,
Where the wolves shall fear thee no more,
And thy cry to Dictynna is still!
Women
No more in the yoke of thy car
Shall the colts of Enetia fleet;
Nor Limna's echoes quiver afar
To the clatter of galloping feet.
The sleepless music of old,
That leaped in the lyre,
Ceaseth now, and is cold,
In the halls of thy sire.
The bowers are discrowned and unladen
Where Artemis lay on the lea;
And the love-dream of many a maiden
Lost, in the losing of thee.
A Maiden
And I, even I,
For thy fall, O Friend,
Amid tears and tears,
Endure to the end
Of the empty years,
Of a life run dry.
In vain didst thou bear him,
Thou Mother forlorn!
Ye Gods that did snare him,
Lo, I cast in your faces
My hate and my scorn!
Ye love-linkèd Graces,
(Alas for the day!)
Was he naught, then, to you,
That ye cast him away,
The stainless and true,
From the old happy places?
LEADER
Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween
Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.
[A HENCHMAN enters in haste.]
HENCHMAN
Ye women, whither shall I go to seek
King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!
LEADER
Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!
[THESEUS comes out from the Castle.]
HENCHMAN
O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight
To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,
From Athens to the marches of Trozên.
THESEUS
What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,
The sister cities of my sovranty?
HENCHMAN
Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark
Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.
THESEUS ( as though unmoved )
How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife
He had like mine denied, that sought his life?
HENCHMAN
His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire
Curse of thy lips.
The boon of thy great Sire
Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.
THESEUS
Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain
I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!
How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare
Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?
HENCHMAN
'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,
We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;
Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again
The foot of our Hippolytus should roam
This land, but waste in exile by thy doom.
So stood we till he came, and in his tone
No music now save sorrow's, like our own,
And in his train a concourse without end
Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend.
At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake:
"Why this fond loitering? I would not break
My Father's law—Ho, there! My coursers four
And chariot, quick! This land is mine no more."
Thereat, be sure, each man of us made speed.
Swifter than speech we brought them up, each steed
Well dight and shining, at our Prince's side.
He grasped the reins upon the rail: one stride
And there he stood, a perfect charioteer,
Each foot in its own station set. Then clear
His voice rose, and his arms to heaven were spread:
"O Zeus, if I be false, strike thou me dead!
But, dead or living, let my Father see
One day, how falsely he hath hated me!"
Even as he spake, he lifted up the g
And smote; and the steeds sprang. And down the r
We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein,
Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain
And Epidaurus.
So we made our way
Up toward the desert region, where the bay
Curls to a promontory near the verge
Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge
Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,
Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground
Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds
Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.
And wonder came on all men, and affright,
Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our sight
Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand.
And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand
A wave unearthly, crested in the sky;
Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye,
Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock
Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock
And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far,
And shoreward swept, where stood the Prince's car.
Three lines of wave together raced, and, full
In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull
Flung to the shore, a fell and marvellous Thing.
The whole land held his voice, and answering
Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,
Gazed seeing not; 'twas more than eyes could bear.
Then straight upon the team wild terror fell.
Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well
Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins
Hard in both hands; then as an oarsman strains
Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong,
Back in the chariot swinging. But the young
Wild steeds bit hard the curb, and fled afar;
Nor rein nor guiding hand nor morticed car
Stayed them at all. For when he veered them round,
And aimed their flying feet to grassy ground,
In front uprose that Thing, and turned again
The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when
Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places,
Silent and ever nearer to the traces,
It followed rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed.
The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed
In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din,
Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin.
And there—the long reins round him—there was he
Dragging, entangled irretrievably.
A dear head battering at the chariot side,
Sharp rocks, and rippled flesh, and a voice that cried:
"Stay, stay, O ye who fattened at my stalls,
Dash me not into nothing!—O thou false
Curse of my Father!—Help! Help, whoso can,
An innocent, innocent and stainless man!"
Many there were that laboured then, I wot,
To bear him succour, but could reach him not,
Till—who knows how?—at last the tangled rein
Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein
Of life still pulsing in him.
All beside,
The steeds, the hornèd Horror of the Tide,
Had vanished—who knows where?—in that wild land.
O King, I am a bondsman of thine hand;
Yet love nor fear nor duty me shall win
To say thine innocent son hath died in sin.
All women born may hang themselves, for me,
And swing their dying words from every tree
On Ida! For I know that he was true!
LEADER
O God, so cometh new disaster, new
Despair! And no escape from what must be!
THESEUS
Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me
At first to joy at hearing of thy tale;
But now, some shame before the Gods, some pale
Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come.
I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell doom.
HENCHMAN
How then? Behoves it bear him here, or how
Best do thy pleasure?—Speak, Lord. Yet if thou
Wilt mark at all my word, thou wilt not be
Fierce-hearted to thy child in misery.
THESEUS
Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face
Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace
And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove
His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.
[ The HENCHMAN departs to fetch HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS sits waiting in
stern gloom, while the CHORUS sing. At the close of their song a
Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice
of ARTEMIS speaks.]
CHORUS
Thou comest to bend the pride
Of the hearts of God and man,
Cypris; and by thy side,
In earth-encircling span,
He of the changing plumes,
The Wing that the world illumes,
As over the leagues of land flies he,
Over the salt and sounding sea.
For mad is the heart of Love,
And gold the gleam of his wing;
And all to the spell thereof
Bend, when he makes his spring;
All life that is wild and young
In mountain and wave and stream,
All that of earth is sprung,
Or breathes in the red sunbeam;
Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,
Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!
A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD
O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,
I charge thee, hearken!
Yea, it is I,
Artemis, Virgin of God most High.
Thou bitter King, art thou glad withal
For thy murdered son?
For thine ear bent low to a lying Queen,
For thine heart so swift amid things unseen?
Lo, all may see what end thou hast won!
Go, sink thine head in the waste abyss;
Or aloft to another world than this,
Birdwise with wings,
Fly far to thine hiding,
Far over this blood that clots and clings;
For in righteous men and in holy things
No rest is thine nor abiding!
[ The cloud has become stationary in the air. ]
Hear, Theseus, all the story of thy grief!
Verily, I bring but anguish, not relief;
Yet, 'twas for this I came, to show how high
And clean was thy son's heart, that he may die
Honoured of men; aye, and to tell no less
The frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness,
Of thy dead wife. One Spirit there is, whom we
That know the joy of white virginity,
Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run
In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.
Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress
Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness
Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,
To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,
Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn
Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,
For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,
Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,
Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!
[THESEUS, at first bewildered, then dumfounded,
now utters a deep groan. ]
It stings thee, Theseus?—Nay, hear on and grieve
Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine
Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?
Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one—
Thou vile King!—must be turned against thy son?
The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard
The call of prayer, and bowed him to his word.
But thou in his eyes and in mine art found
Evil, who wouldst not think, nor probe, nor sound
The deeps of prophet's lore, nor day by day
Leave Time to search; but swifter than man may,
Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son!
THESEUS
O Goddess, let me die!
ARTEMIS
Nay; thou hast done
A heavy wrong; yet even beyond this ill
Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will
Of Cypris that these evil things should be,
Sating her wrath. And this immutably
Hath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwart
A God's fixed will; we grieve but stand apart.
Else, but for fear of the Great Father's blame,
Never had I to such extreme of shame
Bowed me, be sure, as here to stand and see
Slain him I loved best of mortality!
Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide
From very wickedness; and she who died
By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb
The voice of question. And the storm has come
Most bitterly of all on thee! Yet I
Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die,
There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire
On child and house of the evil falls like fire.
[ A throng is seen approaching; HIPPOLYTUS enters,
supported by his attendants. ]
CHORUS
Lo, it is he! The bright young head
Yet upright there!
Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;
Alas for the kindred's trouble!
It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,
Two deaths, and mourning double.
HIPPOLYTUS
Ah, pain, pain, pain!
O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!
No hope.—My head is stabbed with fire,
And a leaping spasm about my brain.
Stay, let me rest. I can no more.
O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,
Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?
—Soft there, ye thralls! No trembling hands
As ye lift me, now!—Who is that that stands
At the right?—Now firm, and with measured tread,
Lift one accursèd and stricken sore
By a father's sinning.
Thou, Zeus, dost see me? Yea, it is I;
The proud and pure, the server of God,
The white and shining in sanctity!
To a visible death, to an open sod,
I walk my ways;
And all the labour of saintly days
Lost, lost, without meaning!
Ah God, it crawls
This agony, over me!
Let be, ye thralls!
Come, Death, and cover me:
Come, O thou Healer blest!
But a little more,
And my soul is clear,
And the anguish o'er!
Oh, a spear, a spear!
To rend my soul to its rest!
Oh, strange, false Curse! Was there some blood-stained head,
Some father of my line, unpunishèd,
Whose guilt lived in his kin,
And passed, and slept, till after this long day
It lights... Oh, why on me? Me, far away
And innocent of sin?
O words that cannot save!
When will this breathing end in that last deep
Pain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave.
When wilt thou bring me sleep,
Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave!
ARTEMIS
Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress,
Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness.
HIPPOLYTUS
Ah!
O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my pain
Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.
The Goddess Artemis is with me here.
ARTEMIS
With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!
HIPPOLYTUS
Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?
ARTEMIS
Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.
HIPPOLYTUS
Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?
ARTEMIS
He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.
HIPPOLYTUS
Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?
ARTEMIS
The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!
HIPPOLYTUS
The Cyprian? Now I see it!—Aye, 'twas she.
ARTEMIS
She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!
HIPPOLYTUS
Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.
ARTEMIS
Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.
HIPPOLYTUS
My father; yea, he too is pitiable!
ARTEMIS
A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.
HIPPOLYTUS
Father, where art thou?... Oh, thou sufferest sore!
THESEUS
Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.
HIPPOLYTUS
I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.
THESEUS
Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!
HIPPOLYTUS
Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!
THESEUS
Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!
HIPPOLYTUS ( gently )
Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!
THESEUS
A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!
HIPPOLYTUS
Ah me!
Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!
ARTEMIS
Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod
Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung
Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung,
Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true!
My hand shall win its vengeance through and through,
Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er
Of all men living is most dear to Her.
Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,
Honours most high in Trozên will I make;
For yokeless maids before their bridal night
Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite
Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;
And virgin's thoughts in music evermore
Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song
Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.
O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now
And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!
Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,
When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.
And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,
Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.
Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,
Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.
And sure that Terror now is very near.
[ The cloud slowly rises and floats away.]
HIPPOLYTUS
Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear
Of soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven
For my long love!...Father, thou art forgiven.
It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee...
I have obeyed Her all my days!...
Ah me,
The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes;
It hath me!... Father!... Hold me! Help me rise!
THESEUS ( supporting him in his arms )
Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!
HIPPOLYTUS
I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.
THESEUS
Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!
HIPPOLYTUS
Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.
THESEUS
Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?
HIPPOLYTUS
Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!
THESEUS
Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!
HIPPOLYTUS
Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.
THESEUS
Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!
HIPPOLYTUS
Farewell;
A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!
[THESEUS bends down and embraces him passionately.]
THESEUS
Not yet!—O hope and bear while thou hast breath!
HIPPOLYTUS
Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...
Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.
[THESEUS covers his face with a mantle and rises. ]
THESEUS
Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,
What greatness have ye lost!
Woe, woe is me!
Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!
CHORUS
On all this folk, both low and high,
A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.
There cometh a throbbing of many tears,
A sound as of waters falling.
For when great men die,
A mighty name and a bitter cry
Rise up from a nation calling.
[ They move into the Castle, carrying the body of HIPPOLYTUS.]
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