Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/225

Rh Than dismal, dark Avernus' self. O Pallas, by the Athenian race In reverence held, that once again Thy Theseus sees the light of day, And has escaped the pools of Styx, Thou owest naught to greedy Dis; For still the number of the shades Within the infernal tyrant's power Remains the same. But why the sounds of wailing that we hear? And what would Phaedra with her naked sword?

[Enter Phaedra with a drawn sword in her hand.] Theseus [to Phaedra]: What madness pricks thee on, all wild with grief? What means that sword? or why these loud laments? Why weepest thou above the hated corpse? Phaedra Me, me, O savage ruler of the deep, Attack; against me send the monstrous shapes That breed within the caverns of the sea, Whatever Tethys in her heart conceals, And ocean hides within his wandering waves. O Theseus, always ill of omen thou! Oh, never to thy loved ones safe returned, Since son and father by their death have paid For thy home-coming. Thou of thine own house Art the destroyer; ever baneful thou, Whether in love or hatred of thy wives. [Turning to the mangled corpse] Hippolytus, is this thy face I see? Have I brought thee to this? What Sinis wild, What pitiless Procrustes mangled thee? What Cretan bull-man, filling all the cave Of Daedalus with his vast bellowings, Has rent thee thus upon his savage horns? Ah me! where now is fled thy beauty bright, Thy eyes, my stars? Dost thou all lifeless lie? Come back a little while and hear my words. 'Tis nothing base I speak. With my own hand