Part 8 (2/2)

HENCHMAN 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood, We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane; Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again The foot of our Hippolytus should roam This land, but waste in exile by thy doom.

So stood we till he came, and in his tone No music now save sorrow's, like our own, And in his train a concourse without end Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend.

At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake: ”Why this fond loitering? I would not break My Father's law--Ho, there! My coursers four And chariot, quick! This land is mine no more.”

Thereat, be sure, each man of us made speed.

Swifter than speech we brought them up, each steed Well dight and s.h.i.+ning, at our Prince's side.

He grasped the reins upon the rail: one stride And there he stood, a perfect charioteer, Each foot in its own station set. Then clear His voice rose, and his arms to heaven were spread: ”O Zeus, if I be false, strike thou me dead!

But, dead or living, let my Father see One day, how falsely he hath hated me!”

Even as he spake, he lifted up the goad And smote; and the steeds sprang. And down the road We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein, Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain And Epidaurus.

So we made our way Up toward the desert region, where the bay Curls to a promontory near the verge Of our Trozen, facing the southward surge Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound, Slow-swelling, like G.o.d's thunder underground Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds p.r.i.c.ked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.

And wonder came on all men, and affright, Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our sight Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand.

And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand A wave unearthly, crested in the sky; Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye, Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far, And sh.o.r.eward swept, where stood the Prince's car.

Three lines of wave together raced, and, full In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull Flung to the sh.o.r.e, a fell and marvellous Thing.

The whole land held his voice, and answering Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there, Gazed seeing not; 'twas more than eyes could bear.

Then straight upon the team wild terror fell.

Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins Hard in both hands; then as an oarsman strains Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong, Back in the chariot swinging. But the young Wild steeds bit hard the curb, and fled afar; Nor rein nor guiding hand nor morticed car Stayed them at all. For when he veered them round, And aimed their flying feet to gra.s.sy ground, In front uprose that Thing, and turned again The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places, Silent and ever nearer to the traces, It followed rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed.

The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din, Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin.

And there--the long reins round him--there was he Dragging, entangled irretrievably.

A dear head battering at the chariot side, Sharp rocks, and rippled flesh, and a voice that cried: ”Stay, stay, O ye who fattened at my stalls, Dash me not into nothing!--O thou false Curse of my Father!--Help! Help, whoso can, An innocent, innocent and stainless man!”

Many there were that laboured then, I wot, To bear him succour, but could reach him not, Till--who knows how?--at last the tangled rein Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein Of life still pulsing in him.

All beside, The steeds, the horned Horror of the Tide, Had vanished--who knows where?--in that wild land.

O King, I am a bondsman of thine hand; Yet love nor fear nor duty me shall win To say thine innocent son hath died in sin.

All women born may hang themselves, for me, And swing their dying words from every tree On Ida! For I know that he was true!

LEADER O G.o.d, so cometh new disaster, new Despair! And no escape from what must be!

THESEUS Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me At first to joy at hearing of thy tale; But now, some shame before the G.o.ds, some pale Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come.

I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell doom.

HENCHMAN How then? Behoves it bear him here, or how Best do thy pleasure?--Speak, Lord. Yet if thou Wilt mark at all my word, thou wilt not be Fierce-hearted to thy child in misery.

THESEUS Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove His clear guilt by G.o.d's judgments from above.

[_The_ HENCHMAN _departs to fetch_ HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS _sits waiting in stern gloom, while the_ CHORUS _sing. At the close of their song a Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice of_ ARTEMIS _speaks_.]

CHORUS Thou comest to bend the pride Of the hearts of G.o.d and man, Cypris; and by thy side, In earth-encircling span, He of the changing plumes, The Wing that the world illumes, As over the leagues of land flies he, Over the salt and sounding sea.

For mad is the heart of Love, And gold the gleam of his wing; And all to the spell thereof Bend, when he makes his spring; All life that is wild and young In mountain and wave and stream, All that of earth is sprung, Or breathes in the red sunbeam; Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne, Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!

A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall, I charge thee, hearken!

Yea, it is I, Artemis, Virgin of G.o.d most High.

Thou bitter King, art thou glad withal For thy murdered son?

For thine ear bent low to a lying Queen, For thine heart so swift amid things unseen?

Lo, all may see what end thou hast won!

Go, sink thine head in the waste abyss; Or aloft to another world than this, Birdwise with wings, Fly far to thine hiding, Far over this blood that clots and clings; For in righteous men and in holy things No rest is thine nor abiding!

[_The cloud has become stationary in the air._]

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