Hippolytus/The Bacchae | Page 4

sick of
life, and cling On earth to this nameless and shining thing. For other
life is a fountain sealed, And the deeps below are unrevealed, And we
drift on legends for ever! [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her
couch; she speaks to the handmaids_.]
PHAEDRA Yes; lift me: not my head so low. There, hold my
arms.--Fair arms they seem!-- My poor limbs scarce obey me now!
Take off that hood that weighs my brow, And let my long hair stream.
NURSE Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly. The sickness best will win
relief By quiet rest and constancy. All men have grief.
PHAEDRA (_not noticing her_) Oh for a deep and dewy spring, With
runlets cold to draw and drink! And a great meadow blossoming,
Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring, To rest me by the brink!
NURSE Nay, Child! Shall strangers hear this tone So wild, and
thoughts so fever-flown?
PHAEDRA Oh, take me to the Mountain! Oh, Pass the great pines and
through the wood, Up where the lean hounds softly go, A-whine for
wild things' blood, And madly flies the dappled roe. O God, to shout
and speed them there, An arrow by my chestnut hair Drawn tight, and
one keen glimmering spear-- Ah! if I could!
NURSE What wouldst thou with them--fancies all!-- Thy hunting and
thy fountain brink? What wouldst thou? By the city wall Canst hear our
own brook plash and fall Downhill, if thou wouldst drink.
PHAEDRA O Mistress of the Sea-lorn Mere Where horse-hoofs beat
the sand and sing, O Artemis, that I were there To tame Enetian steeds

and steer Swift chariots in the ring!
NURSE Nay, mountainward but now thy hands Yearned out, with
craving for the chase; And now toward the unseaswept sands Thou
roamest, where the coursers pace! O wild young steed, what prophet
knows The power that holds thy curb, and throws Thy swift heart from
its race? [_At these words PHAEDRA gradually recovers herself and
pays attention._]
PHAEDRA What have I said? Woe's me! And where Gone straying
from my wholesome mind? What? Did I fall in some god's snare?
--Nurse, veil my head again, and blind Mine eyes.--There is a tear
behind That lash.--Oh, I am sick with shame! Aye, but it hath a sting,
To come to reason; yet the name Of madness is an awful thing.-- Could
I but die in one swift flame Unthinking, unknowing!
NURSE I veil thy face, Child.--Would that so Mine own were veiled
for evermore, So sore I love thee! ... Though the lore Of long life
mocks me, and I know How love should be a lightsome thing Not
rooted in the deep o' the heart; With gentle ties, to twine apart If need
so call, or closer cling.-- Why do I love thee so? O fool, O fool, the
heart that bleeds for twain, And builds, men tell us, walls of pain, To
walk by love's unswerving rule The same for ever, stern and true! For
"Thorough" is no word of peace: 'Tis "Naught-too-much" makes
trouble cease. And many a wise man bows thereto. [The LEADER OF
THE CHORUS here approaches the NURSE.]
LEADER Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true, We see her
great affliction, but no clue Have we to learn the sickness. Wouldst
thou tell The name and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.
NURSE Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.
LEADER Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?
NURSE It all comes to the same. She will not speak.
LEADER (turning and looking at PHAEDRA). How she is changed

and wasted! And how weak!
NURSE 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.
LEADER What, is she mad? Or doth she seek to die?
NURSE I know not. But to death it sure must lead.
LEADER 'Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed.
NURSE She hides her wound, and vows it is not so.
LEADER Can he not look into her face and know?
NURSE Nay, he is on a journey these last days.
LEADER Canst thou not force her, then? Or think of ways To trap the
secret of the sick heart's pain?
NURSE Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain? Yet will I cease not
now, and thou shalt tell If in her grief I serve my mistress well! [She
goes across to where PHAEDRA _lies; and presently, while speaking,
kneels by her_.] Dear daughter mine, all that before was said Let both
of us forget; and thou instead Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned
brow. And I, who followed then the wrong road, now Will leave it and
be wiser. If thou fear Some secret sickness, there be women here To
give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA shakes