Heathen mythology Part 35

{203} [Ill.u.s.tration]

_Phae._ Thy father and my husband, what of that?

Love knows no ties save those he makes himself, Speak to me-- Say that I yet may hope to lay my head On that dear bosom, say thou wilt not spurn The heart that rests its only hope on thee.

Say, or, but look, a clear return of love, And I will fall upon my knees adoring thee!

_Hip._ Madam, I would not, could not wrong my father; And thou, how canst thou meet his face?

Shame, shame, upon the wanton love that leaves The marriage bed, even were it but in thought: And thou above thy compeers raised afar, In that thy name is mated with my father's, Shouldst pray the G.o.ds to scourge this pa.s.sion from thee.

_Phae._ Oh! by thine hopes of heaven I pray thee peace!

_Hip._ Peace, thou! adultress! peace, thou, shameless one, Away, lest I should change a husband's love, Into a husband's hate.

_Phae._ Thou canst not do it!

_Hip._ What if I did proclaim to him thy guilt?

What if I said--father! thy wife, my mother, Hath offered me the love due but to thee, Hath with a shameless love, and wanton's insolence, Deemed she could win me to her bed-- Woman, I tell thee--

{204} _Phae._ And I tell thee, that he would not believe thee.

Yet--say it not, Hippolytus! for I Do love thee as--

_Hip._ I'll hear no more!

_Mother!_ I leave thee, and I pray the G.o.ds To visit not on thee, this awful crime!'"

RACINE.

Fearful lest Hippolytus should betray her, when she found he would not return her sinful pa.s.sion, Phaedra accused his son to Theseus of the very crime of which she had herself been guilty, and excited the father's ire against his son in a terrible degree.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_The._ "'Dost thou dare look upon me boy?

_Hip._ My father?

_The._ Dost see this sword?

_Hip._ Aye!

_The._ Dost dread it?

_Hip._ No; the innocent have nought to fear;

_The._ Now by my crown, this is most base effrontery, But 'tis in vain, thy mother hath told all, Hath told how, with an impious love, thy heart Hath turned to her's; how with an impure lip, Thy words have pierced her to the soul.

_Hip._ And dost thou doubt me father?

_The._ Perfidious wretch! can'st stand before me thus?

Monster too long escaped Jove's fearful thunder, After a love filled with an awful horror And transports of affection fiercely urged, That would pollute thy father's marriage bed, Thou darest present to me thy traitor brow, And vow thine innocence.

Away from these scenes of thine infamy, Away and seek beneath a sky unknown, A land where Theseus' name hath never sounded; Fly, traitor! brave no longer here, my hate!

Within a court that I shall hold with dread, {205} For ever will the curse cling to my name, And endless infamy my memory, That, having given birth to one so shameless, I dared not take the life I gave to him!

Wretch that thou art, dost thou not answer me?

_Hip._ Sire, I am not the wretch that thou would'st make me.

Horror--astonishment--have kept me silent--

_The._ Darest thou add falsehood to thine infamy?

_Hip._ Thy words are most unjust!

_The._ And there thou standest with a brow as calm As innocence itself.

_Hip._ In this I am most innocent!-- Nay, interrupt me not, for I will speak-- Thou hast accused me of an awful crime, Thou hast accursed me with a father's curse, And I must vindicate myself or die?

Phaedra, my mother, and thy wife, avowed In accents shameless as the wish she breathed, A most incestuous pa.s.sion for my person: With fierce disdain I spurned her offered love, Implored her to remember that I stood Before her as thy son, and did entreat her To come back to the straight path of her duty.

_The._ And dost thou think that thou canst thus deceive me?

Away, away, no more pollute my court; Wert thou not called my son, thy time were short.'"

RACINE.

Banished thus from the court of his father, the only consolation for a long time that Hippolytus possessed, was the consciousness of innocence.

Remorse, however, at last preyed upon the bosom of Phaedra; after taking poison she confessed to Theseus the crime of which she had been guilty, and Hippolytus was restored to the affections of his father.

The name of Theseus had been rendered by his bravery so conspicuous and so dreaded by his enemies, that a tradition became popular, to the effect that he appeared at the battle of Marathon to fight for the Greeks, who seemed likely to be overwhelmed by the numbers of their opponents.

"Know ye not when our dead From sleep to battle sprung?

When the Persian charger's tread On their covering greensward rung!

When the trampling march of foes Had crushed our vines and flowers, When jewelled crests arose Through the holy laurel bowers, When banners caught the breeze, When helms in sunlight shone, When masts were on the seas, And spears in Marathon.

{206} "There was one a leader crowned, And armed for Greece that day; But the falchions made no sound On his gleaming war array.

In the battle's front he stood, With his tall and shadowy crest; But the arrows drew no blood, Though their path was thro' his breast.

When banners caught the breeze, &c.

"His sword was seen to flash Where the boldest deeds were done; But it smote without a clash; The stroke was heard by none!

His voice was not of those That swelled the rolling blast, And his steps fell hushed like snows,-- 'Twas the shade of Theseus pa.s.sed!

When banners caught the breeze, &c.

"Far sweeping thro' the foe, With a furious charge he bore, And the Mede left many a bow On the sounding ocean sh.o.r.e, And the foaming waves grew red, And the sails were crowded fast, When the sons of Asia fled As the shade of Theseus pa.s.sed!

When banners caught the breeze, When helms in sunlight shone, When masts were on the seas, And spears in Marathon!"

HEMANS.

[Ill.u.s.tration] {207}

ORPHEUS.

The distinguished honour which the ancients rendered to Orpheus, appears to have been an homage paid by the refinement of the age to music and poetry, of which he was so distinguished an ornament. He was the son of Oeager by the muse Calliope, though some a.s.sert him to have been the son of Apollo, because the G.o.d, owing to the genius he showed for music, presented him with a lyre, to the improvement of which Orpheus added two cords,--and upon which he played with so masterly a hand, that the river in its rapid current ceased to flow, the wild beasts of the forest forgot their nature, and gazed on him in mute admiration, while the very rocks moved towards him to express their joy.

"The rocks re-echo shrill, the beasts of forest wild Stand at the cavern's mouth, in listening trance beguiled.

The birds surround the den, and, as in weary rest, They drop their fluttering wings, forgetful of the rest, Amazed the Centaur saw; his clapping hands he beat, And stamped in ecstacy the rock with hoofed and h.o.r.n.y feet."