Oh, utterly accurst Be she of women, whoso dared the first To cast her honour out to a strange man! 'Twas in some great house, surely, that began This plague upon us; then the baser kind, When the good led towards evil, followed blind And joyous! Cursed be they whose lips are clean And wise and seemly, but their hearts within Rank with bad daring! How can they, O Thou That walkest on the waves, great Cyprian, how Smile in their husbands' faces, and not fall, Not cower before the Darkness that knows all, Aye, dread the dead still chambers, lest one day The stones find voice, and all be finished! Nay, Friends, 'tis for this I die; lest I stand there Having shamed my husband and the babes I bare. In ancient Athens they shall some day dwell, My babes, free men, free-spoken, honourable, EURIPIDES And when one asks their mother, proud of me! For, oh, it cows a man, though bold he be, To know a mother's or a father's sin. 'Tis written, one way is there, one, to win This life's race, could man keep it from his birth, A true clean spirit. And through all this earth To every false man, that hour comes apace When Time holds up a mirror to his face, And girl-like, marvelling, there he stares to see How foul his heart! Be it not so with me! LEADER OF CHORUS Ah, God, how sweet is virtue, and how wise, And honour its due meed in all men's eyes! NURSE (_who has now risen and recovered herself_) Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low A moment since, hearing of this thy woe. But now--I was a coward! And men say Our second thought the wiser is alway. This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee. Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be Beside thee! ... And because thou lovest, wilt fall And die! And must all lovers die, then? All That are or shall be? A blithe law for them! Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet; But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn! She ranges with the stars of eve and morn, She wanders in the heaving of the sea, And all life lives from her.--Aye, this is she That sows Love's seed and brings Love's fruit to birth; And great Love's brethren are all we on earth! Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise-- How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê; How maiden Eôs in her radiancy Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away, For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say, And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern Hath met and crushed them! And must thou, then, turn And struggle? Sprang there from thy father's blood Thy little soul all lonely? Or the god