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._]
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_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.
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_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_.