Hippolytus (1157-1185)

Theseus, I am the bearer of troublous tidings to thee and all citizens who dwell in Athens or the bounds of Troezen.

How now? hath some strange calamity overtaken these two neighbouring cities?

In one brief word, Hippolytus is dead. ’Tis true one slender thread still links him to the light of life.

Who slew him? Did some husband come to blows with him,

one whose wife, like mine, had suffered brutal violence?

He perished through those steeds that drew his chariot, and through the curses thou didst utter, praying to thy sire, the ocean-king, to slay thy son.

Ye gods and king Poseidon, thou hast proved my parentage

by hearkening to my prayer! Say how he perished; how fell the uplifted hand of Justice to smite the villain who dishonoured me?

Hard by the wave-beat shore were we combing out his horses’ manes,

weeping the while, for one had come to say that Hippolytus was harshly exiled by thee and nevermore would return to set foot in this land. Then came he, telling the same doleful tale to us upon the beach, and with him was a countless throng

of friends who followed after. At length he stayed his lamentation and spake: Why weakly rave on this wise? My father’s commands must be obeyed. Ho! servants, harness my horses to the chariot; this is no longer now city of mine.

Thereupon each one of us bestirred himself, and, ere a man could say ’twas done, we had the horses standing ready at our master’s side. Then he caught up the reins from the chariot-rail, first fitting his feet[*] exactly in the hollows made for them.