Hippolytus (0-91)

Wide o’er man my realm extends, and proud the name that I, the goddess Cypris, bear, both in heaven’s courts and ’mongst all those who dwell within the limits of the sea[*] and the bounds of Atlas, beholding the sun-god’s light;

those that respect my power I advance to honour, but bring to ruin all who vaunt themselves at me. For even in the race of gods this feeling finds a home, even pleasure at the honour men pay them.

And the truth of this I soon will show;

for that son of Theseus, born of the Amazon, Hippolytus, whom holy Pittheus taught, alone of all the dwellers in this land of Troezen, calls me vilest of the deities. Love he scorns, and, as for marriage, will none of it;

but Artemis, daughter of Zeus, sister of Phoebus, he doth honour, counting her the chief of goddesses, and ever through the greenwood, attendant on his virgin goddess, he dears the earth of wild beasts with his fleet hounds, enjoying the comradeship of one too high for mortal ken.

’Tis not this I grudge him, no! why should I? But for his sins against me, I will this very day take vengeance on Hippolytus; for long ago I cleared the ground of many obstacles, so it needs but trifling toil.

For as he came one day from the home of Pittheus

to witness the solemn mystic rites and be initiated therein in Pandion’s land,[*] Phaedra, his father’s noble wife, caught sight of him, and by my designs she found her heart was seized with wild desire.

And ere she came to this Troezenian realm,

a temple did she rear to Cypris hard by the rock of Pallas where it o’erlooks this country, for love of the youth in another land; and to win his love in days to come she called after his name the temple she had founded for the goddess.

Now, when Theseus left the land of Cecrops,

flying the pollution of the blood of Pallas’[*] sons, and with his wife sailed to this shore, content to suffer exile for a year, then began the wretched wife to pine away in silence, moaning ’neath love’s cruel scourge,

and none of her servants knows what ails her. But this passion of hers must not fail thus. No, I will discover the matter to Theseus, and all shall be laid bare. Then will the father slay his child, my bitter foe, by curses,

for the lord Poseidon granted this boon to Theseus; three wishes of the god to ask, nor ever ask in vain. So Phaedra is to die, an honoured death ’tis true, but still to die; for I will not let her suffering outweigh the payment of such forfeit by my foes

as shall satisfy my honour.

But lo! I see the son of Theseus coming hither—Hippolytus, fresh from the labours of the chase. I will get me hence. At his back follows a long train

of retainers, in joyous cries of revelry uniting and hymns of praise to Artemis, his goddess; for little he recks that Death hath oped his gates for him, and that this is his last look upon the light.