Hippolytus/The Bacchae | Page 8

Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never!
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There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster!
O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [During the last lines PHAEDRA has approached the door and is listening.]
PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.
LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?
PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!
LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.
PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me!
LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart?
PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!
LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee?
PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!
LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks.
PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed."
LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed!
PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all.
LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair?
PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon.
[_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA cowers aside.]
HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin!
NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ...
HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace?
NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ...
HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge!
NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!
HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?
NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!
HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.
NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before!
HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.
NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin?
HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [He flings her from him.]
NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare!
HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin.