PANOPE Her sad fate seems to have added Fresh trouble to the Queen's tempestuous soul. Sometimes, to soothe her secret pain, she clasps Her children close, and bathes them with her tears; Then suddenly, the mother's love forgotten, She thrusts them from her with a look of horror, She wanders to and fro with doubtful steps; Her vacant eye no longer knows us. Thrice She wrote, and thrice did she, changing her mind, Destroy the letter ere 'twas well begun. Vouchsafe to see her, Sire: vouchsafe to help her. THESEUS Heav'ns! Is Oenone dead, and Phaedra bent On dying too? Oh, call me back my son! Let him defend himself, and I am ready To hear him. Be not hasty to bestow Thy fatal bounty, Neptune; let my pray'rs Rather remain ever unheard. Too soon I lifted cruel hands, believing lips That may have lied! Ah! What despair may follow! SCENE VI THESEUS, THERAMENES THESEUS Theramenes, is't thou? Where is my son? I gave him to thy charge from tenderest childhood. But whence these tears that overflow thine eyes? How is it with my son? THERAMENES Concern too late! Affection vain! Hippolytus is dead. THESEUS Gods! THERAMENES I have seen the flow'r of all mankind Cut off, and I am bold to say that none Deserved it less. THESEUS What! My son dead! When I Was stretching out my arms to him, has Heav'n Hasten'd his end? What was this sudden stroke?