Hippolytus; The Bacchae Part 6

Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair!

[_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.]

LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.

THESEUS Ye G.o.ds! One of my children torn from me?

LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously.

THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ...

Say how she died.

LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.

THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall?

LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity.

[THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow.

He notices the wreath_.]

THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred G.o.d's-messenger!

Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.

[_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.]

THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame!

Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold?

Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold?

O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life?

[_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.]

THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me pa.s.sed!

Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell G.o.d still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death?

I cannot win to sh.o.r.e; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not.

Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot?

Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot!

Alas! this misery!

Sure 'tis some stroke of G.o.d's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.

LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.

THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society.

This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine.

[_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.]

Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee?

[_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.]

What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth?

[_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.]

SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! G.o.d brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread!

My life hath lost its worth.

May all go now with what is finished!

The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone!

OTHER WOMEN O G.o.d, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray!

I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing.

[THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.]

THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ...

Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it?

LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!

THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I.

G.o.d what ghastly music echoes here!

LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.

THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard.

[_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.]

Ho, hearken all this land!

[_The people gather expectantly about him_.]

Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting G.o.d's great eye.

[_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._]

Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.

LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!

I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.

THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery.

LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need.

Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear!

[THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._]

HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.

[_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._]

Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead!

[_Murmurs in the crowd._]

'Tis most strange. 'Tis pa.s.sing strange, I ween.

'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.

What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?

[THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._]

Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe?

And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore.

It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin.

THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is!

HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will.

But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow.