Phaedra | Page 6

be sure, which robs them of their mother,
Will give high hopes back to the stranger's son, To that proud enemy of
you and yours, To whom an Amazon gave birth, I mean Hippolytus--
PHAEDRA Ye gods!
OENONE Ah, this reproach Moves you!
PHAEDRA Unhappy woman, to what name Gave your mouth
utterance?
OENONE Your wrath is just. 'Tis well that that ill-omen'd name can
rouse Such rage. Then live. Let love and duty urge Their claims. Live,
suffer not this son of Scythia, Crushing your children 'neath his odious
sway, To rule the noble offspring of the gods, The purest blood of
Greece. Make no delay; Each moment threatens death; quickly restore
Your shatter'd strength, while yet the torch of life Holds out, and can be
fann'd into a flame.
PHAEDRA Too long have I endured its guilt and shame!
OENONE Why? What remorse gnaws at your heart? What crime Can
have disturb'd you thus? Your hands are not Polluted with the blood of
innocence?
PHAEDRA Thanks be to Heav'n, my hands are free from stain. Would
that my soul were innocent as they!
OENONE What awful project have you then conceived, Whereat your
conscience should be still alarm'd?
PHAEDRA Have I not said enough? Spare me the rest. I die to save

myself a full confession.
OENONE Die then, and keep a silence so inhuman; But seek some
other hand to close your eyes. Tho' but a spark of life remains within
you, My soul shall go before you to the Shades. A thousand roads are
always open thither; Pain'd at your want of confidence, I'll choose The
shortest. Cruel one, when has my faith Deceived you! Think how in my
arms you lay New born. For you, my country and my children I have
forsaken. Do you thus repay My faithful service?
PHAEDRA What do you expect From words so bitter? Were I to break
silence Horror would freeze your blood.
OENONE What can you say To horrify me more than to behold You
die before my eyes?
PHAEDRA When you shall know My crime, my death will follow
none the less, But with the added stain of guilt.
OENONE Dear Madam, By all the tears that I have shed for you, By
these weak knees I clasp, relieve my mind From torturing doubt.
PHAEDRA It is your wish. Then rise.
OENONE I hear you. Speak.
PHAEDRA Heav'ns! How shall I begin?
OENONE Dismiss vain fears, you wound me with distrust.
PHAEDRA O fatal animosity of Venus! Into what wild distractions did
she cast My mother!
OENONE Be they blotted from remembrance, And for all time to come
buried in silence.
PHAEDRA My sister Ariadne, by what love Were you betray'd to
death, on lonely shores Forsaken!
OENONE Madam, what deep-seated pain Prompts these reproaches
against all your kin?
PHAEDRA It is the will of Venus, and I perish, Last, most unhappy of
a family Where all were wretched.
OENONE Do you love?
PHAEDRA I feel All its mad fever.
OENONE Ah! For whom?
PHAEDRA Hear now The crowning horror. Yes, I love--my lips
Tremble to say his name.
OENONE Whom?
PHAEDRA Know you him, Son of the Amazon, whom I've oppress'd

So long?
OENONE Hippolytus? Great gods!
PHAEDRA 'Tis you Have named him.
OENONE All my blood within my veins Seems frozen. O despair! O
cursed race! Ill-omen'd journey! Land of misery! Why did we ever
reach thy dangerous shores?
PHAEDRA My wound is not so recent. Scarcely had I Been bound to
Theseus by the marriage yoke, And happiness and peace seem'd well
secured, When Athens show'd me my proud enemy. I look'd,
alternately turn'd pale and blush'd To see him, and my soul grew all
distraught; A mist obscured my vision, and my voice Falter'd, my blood
ran cold, then burn'd like fire; Venus I felt in all my fever'd frame,
Whose fury had so many of my race Pursued. With fervent vows I
sought to shun Her torments, built and deck'd for her a shrine, And
there, 'mid countless victims did I seek The reason I had lost; but all for
naught, No remedy could cure the wounds of love! In vain I offer'd
incense on her altars; When I invoked her name my heart adored
Hippolytus, before me constantly; And when I made her altars smoke
with victims, 'Twas for a god whose name I dared not utter. I fled his
presence everywhere, but found him-- O crowning horror!--in his
father's features. Against myself, at last, I raised revolt, And stirr'd my
courage up to persecute The enemy I loved. To banish him I wore a
step--dame's harsh and jealous carriage, With ceaseless cries I
clamour'd for his exile, Till I had torn him from his father's arms. I
breathed once more, Oenone; in