Exodos
A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD.O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,I charge thee, hearken!Yea, it is I,Artemis, Virgin of God most High.Thou bitter King, art thou glad withalFor 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 thingsNo rest is thine nor abiding!(The cloud has become stationary in the air.)Hear, Theseus, all the story of thy grief!Verily, I bring but anguish, not relief;Yet, 'twas for this I came, to show how highAnd clean was thy son's heart, that he may dieHonoured of men; aye, and to tell no lessThe frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness,Of thy dead wife. One Spirit there is, whom weThat know the joy of white virginity,Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to runIn Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.Yet strove she long with love, and in the stressFell not, till by her Nurse's craftinessBetrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scornBeat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!(THESEUS, at first bewildered, then dumfounded, now utters a deep groan.)It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieveYet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thineOf sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one--Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son?The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heardThe call of prayer, and bowed him to his word.But thou in his eyes and in mine art foundEvil, who wouldst not think, nor probe, nor soundThe deeps of prophet's lore, nor day by dayLeave Time to search; but swifter than man may,Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son!
THESEUS.O Goddess, let me die!
ARTEMIS.Nay; thou hast doneA heavy wrong; yet even beyond this illAbides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the willOf Cypris that these evil things should be,Sating her wrath. And this immutablyHath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwartA God's fixed will; we grieve but stand apart.Else, but for fear of the Great Father's blame,Never had I to such extreme of shameBowed me, be sure, as here to stand and seeSlain him I loved best of mortality!Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wideFrom very wickedness; and she who diedBy death the more disarmed thee, making dumbThe voice of question. And the storm has comeMost bitterly of all on thee! Yet IHave mine own sorrow, too. When good men die,There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ireOn child and house of the evil falls like fire.(A throng is seen approaching; HIPPOLYTUS enters, supported by his attendants.)
CHORUS.Lo, it is he! The bright young headYet upright there!Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;Alas for the kindred's trouble!It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,Two deaths, and mourning double.
HIPPOLYTUS.Ah, pain, pain, pain!O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire!No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire,And a leaping spasm about my brain.Stay, let me rest. I can no more.O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?--Soft there, ye thralls! No trembling handsAs ye lift me, now!--Who is that that standsAt the right?--Now firm, and with measured tread,Lift one accursèd and stricken soreBy a father's sinning.
Thou, Zeus, dost see me? Yea, it is I;The proud and pure, the server of God,The white and shining in sanctity!To a visible death, to an open sod,I walk my ways;And all the labour of saintly daysLost, lost, without meaning!
Ah God, it crawlsThis agony, over me!Let be, ye thralls!Come, Death, and cover me:Come, O thou Healer blest!
But a little more,And my soul is clear,And the anguish o'er!Oh, a spear, a spear!To rend my soul to its rest!
Oh, strange, false Curse! Was there some blood-stained head,Some father of my line, unpunishèd,Whose guilt lived in his kin,And passed, and slept, till after this long dayIt lights... Oh, why on me? Me, far awayAnd innocent of sin?
O words that cannot save!When will this breathing end in that last deepPain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave.When wilt thou bring me sleep,Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave!
ARTEMIS.Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress,Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness.
HIPPOLYTUS.Ah!O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my painBurns, I can feel thee and find rest again.The Goddess Artemis is with me here.
ARTEMIS.With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!
HIPPOLYTUS.Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?
ARTEMIS.Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.
HIPPOLYTUS.Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?
ARTEMIS.He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.
HIPPOLYTUS.Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?
ARTEMIS.The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!
HIPPOLYTUS.The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she.
ARTEMIS.She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!
HIPPOLYTUS.Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.
ARTEMIS.Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.
HIPPOLYTUS.My father; yea, he too is pitiable!
ARTEMIS.A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.
HIPPOLYTUS.Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore!
THESEUS.Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.
HIPPOLYTUS.I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.
THESEUS.Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!
HIPPOLYTUS.Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!
THESEUS.Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!
HIPPOLYTUS (gently).Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!
THESEUS.A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!
HIPPOLYTUS.Ah me!Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!
ARTEMIS.Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sodThou liest, not unrequited nor unsungShall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung,Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true!My hand shall win its vengeance through and through,Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'erOf all men living is most dear to Her.Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,Honours most high in Trozên will I make;For yokeless maids before their bridal nightShall shear for thee their tresses; and a riteOf honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;And virgin's thoughts in music evermoreTurn toward thee, and praise thee in the SongOf Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee nowAnd clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.And sure that Terror now is very near.(The cloud slowly rises and floats away.)
HIPPOLYTUS.Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clearOf soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heavenFor my long love! ...Father, thou art forgiven.It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee...I have obeyed Her all my days! ...Ah me,The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes;It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise!
THESEUS (supporting him in his arms).Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!
HIPPOLYTUS.I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.
THESEUS.Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!
HIPPOLYTUS.Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.
THESEUS.Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?
HIPPOLYTUS.Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!
THESEUS.Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!
HIPPOLYTUS.Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.
THESEUS.Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!
HIPPOLYTUS.Farewell;A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!(THESEUS bends down and embraces him passionately.)
THESEUS.Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath!
HIPPOLYTUS.Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.(THESEUS covers his face with a mantle and rises.)
THESEUS.Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,What greatness have ye lost!Woe, woe is me!Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!
CHORUS.On all this folk, both low and high,A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.There cometh a throbbing of many tears,A sound as of waters falling.For when great men die,A mighty name and a bitter cryRise up from a nation calling.(They move into the Castle, carrying the body of HIPPOLYTUS.)
Words in this poem 43
- withal adv.
- With this; with that. [With + all.]
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- nobleness n.
- The quality or state of being noble; greatness; dignity; magnanimity; elevation of mind, character, or station; nobility; grandeur; stateliness.
- stole n.
- A long, loose garment reaching to the feet. [AS. stole, L. stola, Gr. stall. See Stall.]
- entreat v. t.
- To treat, or conduct toward; to deal with; to use. [OE. entreten to treat, request, OF. entraiter to treat of; pref. en- (L. in) + traitier to treat. See Treat.]
- righteously adv.
- In a righteous manner; as, to judge righteously. [AS. rightwislice.]
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- wrote v. i.
- To root with the snout. See 1st Root. [OE. wroten. See 1st Root.]
- wast
- The second person singular of the verb be, in the indicative mood, imperfect tense; -- now used only in solemn or poetical style.
- wottest
- 2d pers. sing. pres. of Wit, to know.
- sire n.
- A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
- swifter v. t.
- To tighten, as slack standing rigging, by bringing the opposite shrouds nearer.
- cypris n.
- A genus of small, bivalve, freshwater Crustacea, belonging to the Ostracoda; also, a member of this genus. [L. Cypris, the Cyprian goddess Venus, Gr. Cyprian.]
- mortality n.
- The condition or quality of being mortal; subjection to death or to the necessity of dying. [L. mortalitas: cf. F. mortalité.]
- disarmed a.
- Deprived of arms.
- bitterly adv.
- In a bitter manner.
- albeit conj.
- Even though; although; notwithstanding. [OE. al be although it be, where al is our all. Cf. Although.]
- unrighteous a.
- Not righteous; evil; wicked; sinful; as, an unrighteous man. [OE. unrightwise, AS. unrihtwis. See Un- not, and Righteous.]
- yore adv.
- In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
- stricken p. p.
- Struck; smitten; wounded; as, the stricken deer.
- server n.
- One who serves.
- saintly a.
- Like a saint; becoming a holy person.
- healer n.
- One who, or that which, heals.
- crave v. t.
- To ask with earnestness or importunity; to ask with submission or humility; to beg; to entreat; to beseech; to implore. [AS. crafian; akin to Icel. krefia, Sw. kr, Dan. kr.]
- sufferer n.
- One who suffers; one who endures or undergoes suffering; one who sustains inconvenience or loss; as, sufferers by poverty or sickness; men are sufferers by fire or by losses at sea.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- cyprian a.
- Belonging to Cyprus.
- mesh n.
- The opening or space inclosed by the threads of a net between knot and knot, or the threads inclosing such a space; network; a net. [AS. masc, max, m; akin to D. maas, masche, OHG. masca, Icel. möskvi; cf. Lith. mazgas a knot, megsti to weave nets, to knot.]
- bounty n.
- Goodness, kindness; virtue; worth. [OE. bounte goodness, kindness, F. bonté, fr. L. bonitas, fr. bonus good, for older duonus; cf. Skr. duvas honor, respect.]
- rancour n.
- The deepest malignity or spite; deep-seated enmity or malice; inveterate hatred. [OE. rancour, OF. rancor, rancur, F. rancune, fr. L. rancor rancidity, rankness; tropically, an old grudge, rancor, fr. rancere to be rank or rancid.]
- quell v. t.
- To take the life of; to kill. [OE. quellen to kill, AS. cwellan, causative of cwelan to die; akin to OHG. quellen to torment, Icel. kvelja. See Quail to cower.]
- flawless a.
- Free from flaws. Boyle.
- ceaseless a.
- Without pause or end; incessant.
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- needs adv.
- Of necessity; necessarily; indispensably; -- often with must, and equivalent to of need. [Orig. gen. of need, used as an adverb. Cf. - wards.]
- effluence n.
- A flowing out, or emanation. [Cf. F. effluence.]
- wroth a.
- Full of wrath; angry; incensed; much exasperated; wrathful. [OE. wroth, wrap, AS. wraedh wroth, crooked, bad; akin to wriedhan to writhe, and to OS. wreedhangry, D. wreed cruel, OHG. reid twisted, Icel. reiedhr angry, Dan]
- stainless a.
- Free from stain; immaculate.
- passionately adv.
- In a passionate manner; with strong feeling; ardently.
- pallas n.
- Pallas Athene, the Grecian goddess of wisdom, called also Athene, and identified, at a later period, with the Roman Minerva.
- folk n.
- In Anglo-Saxon times, the people of a group of townships or villages; a community; a tribe. [AS. folc; akin to D. volk, OS. & OHG. folk, G. volk, Icel. f, Sw. & Dan. folk, Lith. pulkas crowd, and perh. to E. follow.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Exodos is in the public domain. This text is taken from Hippolytus of Euripides, translated into English rhyming verse by Gilbert Murray (Harvard Classics reprint), Project Gutenberg ebook #8418, the Gilbert Murray translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Euripides, Exodos, in Hippolytus (1902), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #8418, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/euripides-hippolytus/exodos.html, id L28797.
Form and metre
Exodos is 251 lines in 50 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-BBACDDCEEFGFFG-HHIIJJI-KKLL--MMNNO-OPPQQRRSSTT- cloud · hallA · hearken · iB · highB · withalA · sonC · queenD · unseenD · wonC · abyssE · thisE · wingsF · hidingG · clingsF · thingsF · abidingG · air · griefH · reliefH · highI · dieI · lessJ · noblenessJ · weI · virginity · runK · sonK · stressL · craftinessL · secrecy · righteously · scornM · swornM · eyedN · diedN · believeO · groan · grieveO · thineP · divineP · oneQ · sonQ · heardR · wordR · foundS · soundS · dayT · mayT · son
- 3 --AAB---CCB-DDEEFFGG- artemis · done · illA · willA · beB · immutably · thwart · apart · blameC · shameC · seeB · mortality · wideD · diedD · dumbE · comeE · iF · dieF · ireG · fireG · attendants
- 4 -ABBCAC chorus · headA · thereB · hairB · troubleC · spedA · doubleC
- 5 -ABBACDCEEDC- hippolytus · painA · sireB · fireB · brainA · moreC · fedD · yoreC · handsE · standsE · treadD · soreC · sinning
- 6 -A-ABB- i · godA · sanctity · sodA · waysB · daysB · meaning
- 7 ABAB- crawlsA · meB · thrallsA · meB · blest
- 8 -A-A- more · clearA · o'er · spearA · rest
- 9 --ABBA head · unpunishèd · kinA · dayB · awayB · sinA
- 10 ABABA saveA · deepB · craveA · sleepB · graveA
- 11 -AA artemis · stressA · noblenessA
- 12 --AA- hippolytus · ah · painA · againA · here
- 35 --AABBC-DDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKCI artemis · sod · unsungA · sprungA · trueB · throughB · soe'erC · her · sakeD · makeD · nightE · riteE · storeF · evermoreF · songG · wrongG · nowH · thouH · wayI · astrayI · kingJ · thingJ · breathK · deathK · nearC · awayI
- 36 ----A-ABB hippolytus · clear · heaven · forgiven · theeA · days · meA · eyesB · riseB
- 44 AA hippolytusA · placeA
- 48 A-A- hippolytusA · death · faceA · rises
- 49 ---AA theseus · race · lost · meA · theeA
- 50 -ABB-AA-- chorus · highA · fearsB · tearsB · falling · dieA · cryA · calling · hippolytus
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD. | 5 | ····· |
| O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall, | 9 | ········· |
| I charge thee, hearken! | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Yea, it is I, | 4 | ···· |
| Artemis, Virgin of God most High. | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Thou bitter King, art thou glad withal | 9 | ·/˘····˘/ |
| For thy murdered son? | 5 | ··/˘· |
| For thine ear bent low to a lying Queen, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| For thine heart so swift amid things unseen? | 10 | ·····˘/·˘/ |
| Lo, all may see what end thou hast won! | 9 | ········· |
| Go, sink thine head in the waste abyss; | 9 | ·······˘/ |
| Or aloft to another world than this, | 10 | ·˘/·˘/˘··· |
| Birdwise with wings, | 4 | ···· |
| Fly far to thine hiding, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Far over this blood that clots and clings; | 9 | ········· |
| For in righteous men and in holy things | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| No rest is thine nor abiding! | 8 | ·····˘/˘ |
| (The cloud has become stationary in the air.) | 12 | ···˘//˘·˘··· |
| Hear, Theseus, all the story of thy grief! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Verily, I bring but anguish, not relief; | 11 | /˘˘···/˘·˘/ |
| Yet, 'twas for this I came, to show how high | 10 | ·········· |
| And clean was thy son's heart, that he may die | 10 | ·········· |
| Honoured of men; aye, and to tell no less | 10 | /˘········ |
| The frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness, | 11 | ·/˘·····/˘˘ |
| Of thy dead wife. One Spirit there is, whom we | 10 | ·····/···· |
| That know the joy of white virginity, | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run | 10 | ···/···/·· |
| In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son. | 10 | ·········· |
| Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress | 10 | ·········· |
| Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy, | 10 | ˘/·····/˘˘ |
| To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously, | 11 | ·˘/·····/˘˘ |
| Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn, | 10 | ·········· |
| For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died, | 10 | ·········· |
| Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe! | 10 | /˘···/˘·˘/ |
| (THESEUS, at first bewildered, then dumfounded, now utters a deep groan.) | 17 | ····˘/˘·····/˘··· |
| It stings thee, Theseus?--Nay, hear on and grieve | 10 | ·········· |
| Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine | 10 | ·········· |
| Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine? | 10 | ·······/˘/ |
| Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one-- | 10 | ·········· |
| Thou vile King!--must be turned against thy son? | 10 | ·········· |
| The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard | 10 | ·······/·· |
| The call of prayer, and bowed him to his word. | 10 | ·········· |
| But thou in his eyes and in mine art found | 10 | ·········· |
| Evil, who wouldst not think, nor probe, nor sound | 10 | /˘········ |
| The deeps of prophet's lore, nor day by day | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Leave Time to search; but swifter than man may, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| O Goddess, let me die! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| Nay; thou hast done | 4 | ···· |
| A heavy wrong; yet even beyond this ill | 10 | ·/˘··/···· |
| Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will | 10 | ˘/··˘/˘··· |
| Of Cypris that these evil things should be, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Sating her wrath. And this immutably | 10 | ·········· |
| Hath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwart | 10 | ··˘/·/···· |
| A God's fixed will; we grieve but stand apart. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Else, but for fear of the Great Father's blame, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Never had I to such extreme of shame | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| Bowed me, be sure, as here to stand and see | 10 | ·········· |
| Slain him I loved best of mortality! | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| From very wickedness; and she who died | 10 | ·/˘/˘˘···· |
| By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| The voice of question. And the storm has come | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Most bitterly of all on thee! Yet I | 10 | ·/˘˘······ |
| Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire | 11 | ·····/˘/˘/· |
| On child and house of the evil falls like fire. | 11 | ······/··/˘ |
| (A throng is seen approaching; HIPPOLYTUS enters, supported by his attendants.) | 20 | ····˘/˘˘/˘/˘˘/˘··˘/˘ |
| CHORUS. | 2 | /˘ |
| Lo, it is he! The bright young head | 8 | ········ |
| Yet upright there! | 4 | ·˘/· |
| Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair; | 10 | ········˘· |
| Alas for the kindred's trouble! | 8 | ˘/··/˘/˘ |
| It falls as fire from a God's hand sped, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Two deaths, and mourning double. | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Ah, pain, pain, pain! | 4 | ···· |
| O unrighteous curse! O unrighteous sire! | 11 | ·˘/˘··˘/˘/˘ |
| No hope.--My head is stabbed with fire, | 10 | ······˘·/˘ |
| And a leaping spasm about my brain. | 10 | ··/˘/˘···· |
| Stay, let me rest. I can no more. | 8 | ········ |
| O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed, | 9 | ········· |
| Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore? | 11 | ··········· |
| --Soft there, ye thralls! No trembling hands | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| As ye lift me, now!--Who is that that stands | 10 | ·········· |
| At the right?--Now firm, and with measured tread, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Lift one accursèd and stricken sore | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| By a father's sinning. | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| Thou, Zeus, dost see me? Yea, it is I; | 9 | ········· |
| The proud and pure, the server of God, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| The white and shining in sanctity! | 9 | ···/˘·/˘˘ |
| To a visible death, to an open sod, | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| I walk my ways; | 4 | ···· |
| And all the labour of saintly days | 9 | ···/··/˘· |
| Lost, lost, without meaning! | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Ah God, it crawls | 4 | ···· |
| This agony, over me! | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| Let be, ye thralls! | 4 | ···· |
| Come, Death, and cover me: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Come, O thou Healer blest! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| But a little more, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| And my soul is clear, | 5 | ····· |
| And the anguish o'er! | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Oh, a spear, a spear! | 5 | ····· |
| To rend my soul to its rest! | 7 | ······· |
| Oh, strange, false Curse! Was there some blood-stained head, | 10 | ·········· |
| Some father of my line, unpunishèd, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Whose guilt lived in his kin, | 6 | ······ |
| And passed, and slept, till after this long day | 10 | ·········· |
| It lights... Oh, why on me? Me, far away | 10 | ········˘/ |
| And innocent of sin? | 6 | ·/˘˘·· |
| O words that cannot save! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| When will this breathing end in that last deep | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Pain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave. | 10 | ·········· |
| When wilt thou bring me sleep, | 6 | ······ |
| Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave! | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress, | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness. | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Ah! | 1 | · |
| O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my pain | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The Goddess Artemis is with me here. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep? | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep. | 10 | ·········· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver? | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh? | 10 | ···/˘···/· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| The Cyprian? Now I see it!--Aye, 'twas she. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now. | 10 | ·········· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| My father; yea, he too is pitiable! | 11 | ·/˘····/˘˘˘ |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Father, where art thou? ... Oh, thou sufferest sore! | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Even unto death, child. There is joy no more. | 10 | /········· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me. | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Would I could lie there dead instead of thee! | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love! | 10 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Would God my lips had never breathed thereof! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| HIPPOLYTUS (gently). | 6 | ˘/˘˘/˘ |
| Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise! | 10 | ·········· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes! | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Ah me! | 2 | ·· |
| Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| ARTEMIS. | 3 | ··· |
| Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod | 10 | ·········· |
| Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung | 10 | ····˘/˘·˘/ |
| Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| My hand shall win its vengeance through and through, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er | 9 | /˘·/˘···· |
| Of all men living is most dear to Her. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake, | 10 | ·······˘/· |
| Honours most high in Trozên will I make; | 10 | /˘········ |
| For yokeless maids before their bridal night | 11 | ········/˘· |
| Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And virgin's thoughts in music evermore | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song | 10 | ·········· |
| Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong. | 10 | ·········· |
| O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou! | 10 | ·········· |
| Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| When Gods send error, needs must fall astray. | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King, | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath, | 10 | ·/·····/˘· |
| Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death. | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| And sure that Terror now is very near. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| (The cloud slowly rises and floats away.) | 10 | ··/˘/˘··˘/ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear | 9 | ·/·/····· |
| Of soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| For my long love! ...Father, thou art forgiven. | 11 | ····/˘··˘/˘ |
| It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee... | 10 | ·········· |
| I have obeyed Her all my days! ... | 9 | ··˘/˘···· |
| Ah me, | 2 | ·· |
| The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| It hath me! ... Father! ... Hold me! Help me rise! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| THESEUS (supporting him in his arms). | 9 | ··˘/˘···· |
| Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying. | 10 | ······˘··· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so? | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness! | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Pray that a true-born child may fill my place. | 10 | ·········· |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Farewell; | 2 | ·/ |
| A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part! | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| (THESEUS bends down and embraces him passionately.) | 11 | ·····˘/˘·/˘ |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Not yet!--O hope and bear while thou hast breath! | 10 | ·········· |
| HIPPOLYTUS. | 4 | ˘/˘˘ |
| Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death... | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| (THESEUS covers his face with a mantle and rises.) | 13 | ··/˘····/˘·/˘ |
| THESEUS. | 2 | ·· |
| Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race, | 10 | ·········· |
| What greatness have ye lost! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Woe, woe is me! | 4 | ···· |
| Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee! | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| CHORUS. | 2 | /˘ |
| On all this folk, both low and high, | 8 | ········ |
| A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears. | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| There cometh a throbbing of many tears, | 10 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘· |
| A sound as of waters falling. | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| For when great men die, | 5 | ····· |
| A mighty name and a bitter cry | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| Rise up from a nation calling. | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| (They move into the Castle, carrying the body of HIPPOLYTUS.) | 16 | ·····/˘/˘·/˘·˘/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.