Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/190

172 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 Thy sorrowing soul; no quiet rest by night, 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 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 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 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 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