The Tragedies of Seneca: Translated into English Verse, to Which Have Been Appended Comparative Analyses of the Corresponding Greek and Roman Plays, and a Mythological IndexSeneca, Lucius Annaeus
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The Tragedies of Seneca: Translated into English Verse, to Which Have Been Appended Comparative Analyses of the Corresponding Greek and Roman Plays, and a Mythological Index
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus
Mythology, Classical -- Drama; Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, approximately 4 B.C.-65 A.D. -- Translations into English
_Nurse_ [_to_ Diana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st alone
On mountain tops, and thou who only art
Within their desert haunts adored, convert,
We pray, to better issue these sad fears.
O mighty goddess of the woods and groves,
Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night, 410
Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumes
The sky, thou three-formed Hecate--Oh, smile,
We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soul
Of stern Hippolytus subdue for us.
Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flame
May he endure. May he give ready ear
To our request. His hard and stubborn heart 415
Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind.
Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce,
May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws.
Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy face
Be ever clear, and through the rifted clouds
Mayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright;
So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky, 420
May no Thessalian mummeries prevail
To draw thee from thy nightly journey down;
And may no shepherd boast himself of thee.
Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer;
[Hippolytus _is seen approaching_.]
I see Hippolytus himself, alone,
Approaching to perform the yearly rites
To Dian due. 425
[_To herself._]
Why dost thou hesitate?
Both time and place are given by fortune's lot.
Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear?
It is no easy task to do the deed
Enjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen,
Must banish from her heart all thought of right;
For sense of shame ill serves a royal will. 430
[_Enter_ Hippolytus.]
_Hippolytus:_ Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet,
O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad,
Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sire
In safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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