Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/218

200 Thou still shalt meet thy fitting punishment. Persistent shall I chase thee in thy flight Through all thy hiding-places. Ways remote, Hemmed in, secluded, hard and trackless ways, I'll traverse in pursuit. No obstacle Shall block my way. Thou know'st whence I return. And whither spears cannot be hurled at thee I'll hurl my prayers. My father of the sea Once promised me that thrice I might prevail With him in prayer, and ratified the boon By oath upon the inviolable Styx. [To Neptune.] Thou ruler of the sea, the boon bestow, And grant my prayer: let not Hippolytus Live to behold another sun's bright rays, But may he go to meet those shades of hell Enraged at my escape. O father, now I pray that aid which still I deprecate. This last of thy three boons I would not use, If I were not beset by grievous ills. Amidst the depths of hell and dreadful Dis, Amidst the infernal king's pursuing threats, I did not call on thee. But now I claim Thy promise, father. Why delay thine aid? Why are thy waves inactive? Let the winds That drive the blackening clouds bring darkness on; Snatch stars and sky from sight; pour forth the sea; Arouse thy watery monsters, and let loose On him from ocean's depths thy swelling waves. [Exit Theseus.]

Chorus: Great nature, mother of the gods, And thou, fire-girt Olympus' lord, Who speedest through the flying skies The scattered stars, the wandering ways Of constellations, and the heavens Upon their whirling axes turn'st: Why is thy care so great to keep The annual highways of the air, That now the hoary frosts may strip