Part 8 (1/2)

HIPPOLYTUS They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.

THESEUS That will I straight, unless my will be done!

[HIPPOLYTUS _comes close to him and kneels._]

Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!

[HIPPOLYTUS _rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away._ THESEUS, _as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the Castle. The door is closed again._ HIPPOLYTUS _has stopped for a moment before the Statue of _ARTEMIS, _and, as _THESEUS_ departs, breaks out in prayer._]

HIPPOLYTUS So; it is done! O dark and miserable!

I see it all, but see not how to tell The tale.--O thou beloved, Leto's Maid, Chase-comrade, fellow-rester in the glade, Lo, I am driven with a caitiff's brand Forth from great Athens! Fare ye well, O land And city of old Erechtheus! Thou, Trozen, What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen In thy broad plain! Farewell! This is the end; The last word, the last look!

Come, every friend And fellow of my youth that still may stay, Give me G.o.d-speed and cheer me on my way.

Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot Than me, though mine own Father loves me not!

[HIPPOLYTUS _goes away to the right, followed by many Huntsmen and other young men. The rest of the crowd has by this time dispersed, except the Women of the Chorus and some Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen_.]

CHORUS

_Men_ Surely the thought of the G.o.ds hath balm in it alway, to win me Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the dark of my mind, Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit within me Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with the guerdon they find.

For Good comes in Evil's traces, And the Evil the Good replaces; And Life, 'mid the changing faces, Wandereth weak and blind.

_Women_ What wilt thou grant me, O G.o.d? Lo, this is the prayer of my travail-- Some well-being; and chance not very bitter thereby; Spirit uncrippled by pain; and a mind not deep to unravel Truth unseen, nor yet dark with the brand of a lie.

With a veering mood to borrow Its light from every morrow, Fair friends and no deep sorrow, Well could man live and die!

_Men_ Yet my spirit is no more clean, And the weft of my hope is torn, For the deed of wrong that mine eyes have seen, The lie and the rage and the scorn; A Star among men, yea, a Star That in h.e.l.las was bright, By a Father's wrath driven far To the wilds and the night.

Oh, alas for the sands of the sh.o.r.e!

Alas for the brakes of the hill, Where the wolves shall fear thee no more, And thy cry to Dictynna is still!

_Women_ No more in the yoke of thy car Shall the colts of Enetia fleet; Nor Limna's echoes quiver afar To the clatter of galloping feet.

The sleepless music of old, That leaped in the lyre, Ceaseth now, and is cold, In the halls of thy sire.

The bowers are discrowned and unladen Where Artemis lay on the lea; And the love-dream of many a maiden Lost, in the losing of thee.

_A Maiden_ And I, even I, For thy fall, O Friend, Amid tears and tears, Endure to the end Of the empty years, Of a life run dry.

In vain didst thou bear him, Thou Mother forlorn!

Ye G.o.ds that did snare him, Lo, I cast in your faces My hate and my scorn!

Ye love-linked Graces, (Alas for the day!) Was he naught, then, to you, That ye cast him away, The stainless and true, From the old happy places?

LEADER Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.

[A HENCHMAN _enters in haste_.]

HENCHMAN Ye women, whither shall I go to seek King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!

LEADER Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!

[THESEUS _comes out from the Castle_.]

HENCHMAN O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween, From Athens to the marches of Trozen.

THESEUS What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me, The sister cities of my sovranty?

HENCHMAN Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.

THESEUS (_as though unmoved_) How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife He had like mine denied, that sought his life?

HENCHMAN His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire Curse of thy lips.

The boon of thy great Sire Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.

THESEUS Ye G.o.ds! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!

How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?