 | Phaedra and Hippolytus |  |
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Act I.
Scene I.
Enter HIPPOLYTUS with Huntsmen, preparing for the Chace.HIPPOLYTUS.
Go, you the shady Woods beset,
You tall Cecropius Summit beat
With nimble Feet; those Plains some try
Which under stony Parnes lie.
And those the River with swift Waves
Roll'd through Thriasian Vallies laves.
Climb you those lofty Hills still white
With cold Riphæan Snows, their Flight
Some others take, where stands the Grove
With spreading Alders interwove,
Where ly the Fields which the Spring's Sire,
The soft'ring Zephyre, doth inspire
With balmy Breath, when to appear
He calls the Vernal Flowers, and where
Meander-like, 'bove Agra's Plains,
Through Pebbles calm Ilissus strains
His Course, whose hungry Waters eat
Away his barren Banks. You beat
On the Left-hand, where Marathon
The way does open to the Down.
Where nightly the wild Herds along
Unto their Forage lead their young.
You tow'rd the rough Acharnans run,
Seated against the Southern Sun,
Whose warm Beams Winter's Rigour slack.
For sweet Hymetius Quarries make
Some others. You pursue the path
To small Aphidnæ, that part hath
Been long untrac'd, where to a Reach
Sunion th'Embayed Shore doth stretch.
Whom Sylvan Glories do excite,
Lo, Phibalis doth him invite:
There by many a Wound well known,
The Terror of the labouring Clown,
Lodges a Boar: slack you the Line
To those still Hounds there, but confine
Those fierce Molossians to their Chain.
Those Cretan Bitches, let them strain
Their tougher Leash, with Necks whose Hair
Is worn, by frequent struggling, bare.
Those fiery Spartans ('tis a bold
Race, and greedy of their Prey) hold
Shorter up; the hollow Rocks shall round
E'er long with their full Cries resound:
Now with sagacious Nose inclin'd
Snuff they the Air, and seek to find
Their Game, whilst yet the Scent lies hot,
And the dew'd Earth retains the Slought
Of Feet, ere Day-light 'gins t'appear.
Some one on charged Shoulders bear
The corded Toils some help to set
With nimble Speed the close-maesh'd Net.
Some, with vain Terror to confine
The rowz'd Game, pitch the red-plum'd Line.
Take you a light Dart; you a large
Boar-Spear, and that with both hands charge.
You close conceal'd in Ambush lie,
And fright with Noise the Beasts that fly
Into the Toils. You of the Prey,
When we have kill'd, shall take the 'Say.
You tall Cecropius Summit beat
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Which under stony Parnes lie.
And those the River with swift Waves
Roll'd through Thriasian Vallies laves.
103
With cold Riphæan Snows, their Flight
Some others take, where stands the Grove
With spreading Alders interwove,
Where ly the Fields which the Spring's Sire,
The soft'ring Zephyre, doth inspire
With balmy Breath, when to appear
He calls the Vernal Flowers, and where
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Through Pebbles calm Ilissus strains
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Away his barren Banks. You beat
On the Left-hand, where Marathon
The way does open to the Down.
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Unto their Forage lead their young.
You tow'rd the rough Acharnans run,
Seated against the Southern Sun,
Whose warm Beams Winter's Rigour slack.
For sweet Hymetius Quarries make
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To small Aphidnæ, that part hath
Been long untrac'd, where to a Reach
Sunion th'Embayed Shore doth stretch.
Whom Sylvan Glories do excite,
Lo, Phibalis doth him invite:
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The Terror of the labouring Clown,
Lodges a Boar: slack you the Line
To those still Hounds there, but confine
Those fierce Molossians to their Chain.
Those Cretan Bitches, let them strain
Their tougher Leash, with Necks whose Hair
Is worn, by frequent struggling, bare.
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Race, and greedy of their Prey) hold
Shorter up; the hollow Rocks shall round
E'er long with their full Cries resound:
Now with sagacious Nose inclin'd
Snuff they the Air, and seek to find
Their Game, whilst yet the Scent lies hot,
And the dew'd Earth retains the Slought
Of Feet, ere Day-light 'gins t'appear.
Some one on charged Shoulders bear
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With nimble Speed the close-maesh'd Net.
Some, with vain Terror to confine
The rowz'd Game, pitch the red-plum'd Line.
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Boar-Spear, and that with both hands charge.
You close conceal'd in Ambush lie,
And fright with Noise the Beasts that fly
Into the Toils. You of the Prey,
When we have kill'd, shall take the 'Say.
To thy Companion, O Divine
Virago! now Success assign.
Thou, who Earth's solitary parts
Thy Empire mak'st: whose sure aim'd Darts
Those Beasts feel cold Araxis drink,
Those sport on frozen Ister's Brink.
Getulian Lions who subdues,
Whose Hand Cretæan Harts pursues;
And now does slighter Wounds impose
Upon the swiftly flying Roes.
Tygers to thee present their Breasts;
Swift-footed Elgs, with shaggy Crests,
To thee their Backs: and fiercer Bulls
Arm'd with large Horns on their rough Sculls.
What Beast soever there remains,
Whether in the deserted Plains,
Which the poor Garamantian knows.
Those the rich Arabs Woods inclose,
Or Pyrenæan Hills conceal,
Whome'er Hyrcanian Lawns reveal,
Or those the wand'ring Sarmats see,
Great Goddess! dread thy Shafts and Thee.
Virago! now Success assign.
Thou, who Earth's solitary parts
Thy Empire mak'st: whose sure aim'd Darts
Those Beasts feel cold Araxis drink,
Those sport on frozen Ister's Brink.
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Whose Hand Cretæan Harts pursues;
And now does slighter Wounds impose
Upon the swiftly flying Roes.
Tygers to thee present their Breasts;
Swift-footed Elgs, with shaggy Crests,
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Arm'd with large Horns on their rough Sculls.
What Beast soever there remains,
Whether in the deserted Plains,
Which the poor Garamantian knows.
Those the rich Arabs Woods inclose,
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Whome'er Hyrcanian Lawns reveal,
Or those the wand'ring Sarmats see,
Great Goddess! dread thy Shafts and Thee.
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If with due Rites thy Sylvan Pow'r
The grateful Votary implore,
The Toils retain th'intangled Prey,
Nor strugling Feet through Nets break way;
But home he comes, whilst his Wain's Back
Does with the loaded Quarry crack,
And every Hound up to the Eyes
In Blood his greedy Snout bedies.
Whilst to their Homes the Rural Train
Return in Triumph back again.
The grateful Votary implore,
The Toils retain th'intangled Prey,
Nor strugling Feet through Nets break way;
But home he comes, whilst his Wain's Back
Does with the loaded Quarry crack,
And every Hound up to the Eyes
In Blood his greedy Snout bedies.
Whilst to their Homes the Rural Train
Return in Triumph back again.
Lo! the kind Goddess proves our Friend!
The Hounds, I hear, their loud Mouths spend;
The Huntsmen call. This way I'll take,
That I the shorter Cut may make.
The Hounds, I hear, their loud Mouths spend;
The Huntsmen call. This way I'll take,
That I the shorter Cut may make.
Scene II.
Enter Phædra and her Nurse.PHÆDRA.
O Crete! thou mighty Empress of the Main,
Whose num'rous Fleets the charged Seas sustain.
Along each Coast; far as with pervious Tides
Unto Assyrian Lands blue Nereus glides.
Why in a hated home? Wise to my Foe,
A wretched Life, drawn out in Tears and Wo,
Compell'st thou me to lead? my wand'ring Spouse
Hath left me; still his old Faith Theseus shows.
Who to irremeable Styx is gone
With bold Pirithous a Companion,
And an Assistant to his mad Design,
From Pluto's Throne to ravish Proserpine.
Nor Fear nor Shame could hold him, but he must
In Hell go seek new matter for his Lust.
Whose num'rous Fleets the charged Seas sustain.
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Unto Assyrian Lands blue Nereus glides.
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A wretched Life, drawn out in Tears and Wo,
Compell'st thou me to lead? my wand'ring Spouse
Hath left me; still his old Faith Theseus shows.
Who to irremeable Styx is gone
With bold Pirithous a Companion,
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From Pluto's Throne to ravish Proserpine.
Nor Fear nor Shame could hold him, but he must
In Hell go seek new matter for his Lust.
A greater Grief does yet my Soul oppress,
Nor silent Night nor Slumber can release
My Heart from Cares; the nourisht Ill still grows,
And burns within; as that Fire's Tide that flows
In Ætna's Caves. My curious Web no more
Affects me now: my Spindle, which before
Ius'd, now 'twixt my careless Hands falls down:
Nor do my votive Gifts the Altars crown:
Nor with Athenian Dames in mixed Quires,
Toss I in silent Rites the conscious Fires:
Nor Sacrifice, nor my chast Pray'rs present
Unto the Land's adjudged President.
All my Joys now to course the rowzed Deer,
And with my soft Hand dart a rugged Spear.
O whither tend'st thou, my besotted Mind?
Why madly lov'st the Woods? Ah! now I find
My wretched Mother's fatal Curse: now we
Have learn'd to sin in Woods as well as she.
Nor silent Night nor Slumber can release
My Heart from Cares; the nourisht Ill still grows,
And burns within; as that Fire's Tide that flows
In Ætna's Caves. My curious Web no more
Affects me now: my Spindle, which before
Ius'd, now 'twixt my careless Hands falls down:
Nor do my votive Gifts the Altars crown:
Nor with Athenian Dames in mixed Quires,
Toss I in silent Rites the conscious Fires:
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Unto the Land's adjudged President.
All my Joys now to course the rowzed Deer,
And with my soft Hand dart a rugged Spear.
O whither tend'st thou, my besotted Mind?
Why madly lov'st the Woods? Ah! now I find
My wretched Mother's fatal Curse: now we
Have learn'd to sin in Woods as well as she.
I pity thee, poor Mother! that did'st prove
The uncouth Fury of so strange a Love
As that of a Wild Bull: he fierce disdain'd
The Yoke, and o'er th'untam'd Herd proudly reign'd;
Yet he lov'd something: but these Flame of ours
What Dædalus, or what Celestial Pow'rs
Can e'er befriend? Not if again that fam'd
Mopsopian Artist, who the Labyrinth fram'd
T'inclose the Minotaur should hither fly,
Could he t'our Woes a Remedy apply.
Venus, incens'd against Sol's hated Race,
Seeks to revenge on us that known Disgrace
Of Mars and her insnar'd; with Infamy
Still loading the whole Stock, none e'er scap'd free
Of Minos Race: their Loves have ever been,
Notorious by the Adjunct of some Sin.
The uncouth Fury of so strange a Love
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The Yoke, and o'er th'untam'd Herd proudly reign'd;
Yet he lov'd something: but these Flame of ours
What Dædalus, or what Celestial Pow'rs
Can e'er befriend? Not if again that fam'd
Mopsopian Artist, who the Labyrinth fram'd
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Could he t'our Woes a Remedy apply.
Venus, incens'd against Sol's hated Race,
Seeks to revenge on us that known Disgrace
Of Mars and her insnar'd; with Infamy
Still loading the whole Stock, none e'er scap'd free
Of Minos Race: their Loves have ever been,
Notorious by the Adjunct of some Sin.
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O Theseus Royal Consort! Jove's bright Seed!
This Ill from thy chast Breast expel with speed,
These Flames extinguish; nor to Hopes accurst
Give up thy yielding Soul: who at the first
Resists Love's Charge, comes off a Victor still;
But he who sooths and nurses the sweet Ill
Too late, alas! the Yoke denies to bear
Himself assum'd: and how averse to hear
Truth told are Princes, we well know, and find
With what Reluctancy to right inclin'd.
Fall yet what may, I'll bear't, nor Truth disguise:
Freedom at hand my weak Age fortifies.
“'Tis the first step from Sin, to have the Will,
“T'oppose, next Shame, to know a mean in Ill.
Wretch whither tendst thou? why dost aggavate
Thy House's Shame? and and foil thy Mother's Fate,
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“Our Ills impute; Monsters to Destiny.
If 'cause thy Husband breaths not this World's Air,
Thou think'st thy Faults from Fears secured are,
Thou art deceiv'd: say Pluto Theseus keeps
Perpetual Prisoner in Lethæan Deeps;
Think'st thou that he who o'er the wide-stretch'd Main
Extends his Empire, and beneath whose Reign
An hundred Cities stoop, thy Father, will
Let undetected pass so great an Ill?
Believe it not; “Parents are quicker Ey'd,
“More wisely careful: say yet we could hide
By subtil Craft thy Crime; yet what shall he
By whose bright Beams all thing enlight'ned be,
Thy radiant Grandsire? or what he who shakes
The Heav'ns, and with Ætnæan Thunder rakes,
The Gods great Father? canst thou draw a Skreen
'Twixt these all-seeing Judges and thy Sin?
Suppose yet they should with thy Crime dispense,
And Faith assur'd (deny'd each great Offence)
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Is't, of a guilty Conscience to sustain
The waking Horror! and a Soul o'er-laid
With its own Crimes, and of it self afraid!
“Some safely may, none e'er secure did sin.
Repress this impious Love: a Crime ne'er seen,
In the most barbarous Lands: a Sin unknown
To wand'ring Getes, to those who Taurus crown
Inhabit, or wild Scythians that dwell
In scatter'd Tents. This horrid Guilt expel
From thy chast Breast; and of thy Mothers Fires
Mindful, abhor such new and strange Desires.
Would'st by the Son's the Father's Bed pollute?
Swell thy curst Womb with some mishapen Fruit?
With thy foul Lust, go, invert Nature then.
Why want there Monsters? or thy Brother's Den
Why unsupply'd? so oft the World shall hear
Of Prodigies, so often Nature bear
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Shall feel their Hearts incens'd with amorous Flames.
Phæ.
I must confess 'tis true thou tell'st me, Nurse,
But forc'd by Passion, I pursue the worse.
Headlong to Ruine runs my knowing Mind,
Which oft turns back, but vainly, Help to find.
So when against the Tide the Sailor toils
To force his loaded Bark, the Current foils
His Pains, down Stream the master'd Vessel's drove.
My Reason's conquer'd by more powerful Love,
Who rules as Tyrant in my captiv'd Breast.
This winged God does Heav'n and Earth infest.
With all-o'er-mast'ring Flames Jove's self he scorches,
Mars more than Fire-Pikes dreads his little Torches.
The God who three-fork'd Thunder frames, who toils,
Unswelter'd in Ætnæan Forges, broils
In his small Fires. Phœbus who bears the Fame
For Archery, this Boy with surer Aim
Tranfixes: through the Earth and ample Skies
A winged Plague to Men and Gods, he flies.
Nur.
Depraved Appetite, that Bawd to Vice,
Made Love a God: and for his freer Rise,
Did to this Fury a false Pow'r assign
Fancying, o'er all the World how Erycine
Her wand'ring Boy sends, how to Heav'n he flies,
There shoots his Shafts; among the Deities
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“So Love his Bow, her Pow'r so Venus gain'd.
“Whoe'er too great Prosperity enjoys,
“Floating in Luxury, vain Novelties
“Affecting, him dire Lust (that never fails
“T'attend on ample Fortunes) soon assails.
“No common Dainties, nor no House, tho neat,
“If meanly built, can please, nor courser Treat.
“O why from homely Cottages abstains
“This Plague, and in our princely Mansions reigns?
“Or why alone in poor and humble Cells,
“And not in Courts, religious Venus dwells?
“Why do the common sort of People prove
“Honest Affections and restrained Love?
“When those with Riches and with Empire crown'd
“Unto their vast Desires prescribe no bound;
“Above their Pow'rs the Great in Pow'r aspire,
“Would by their Wills Impossibles acquire.
Thou seest what for thy Royal State is best;
Fear thy returning Husband's Pow'r at least.
Phæ.
In me Love's greater Tyranny does reign.
I fear no Man's Return: none e'er again
Trod the Earth's Convex, or return'd to Light
From those still Deeps where dwells eternal Night.
Nur.
Believe not this: tho Dis shut up his Court,
And Stygian Cerberus watch at the Port,
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Phæ.
Perhaps he'll pardon this our Love.
Nur.
Unkind
To a chast Wise he was; Antiope
His cruel Hand felt; but suppose that he
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The other's Mind? that hates the very Name
Of Woman; leads a single Life; does shun
The Marriage-Bed; born of an Amazon
You may perceive he was.
Phæ.
Yet him o'er Hills
Topt with the Snow, and with his nimble Heels
Beating rough Crags, thro' Woods, o'er Mountains, I
With Joy could follow.
Nur.
Think'st he'll e'er apply
Himself to thee, or Love's Caresses know,
For unchast Venus his chast Rites forego;
Hop'st thou he'll e'er love thee, who for thy sake
Perhaps hates all thy Sex?
Phæ.
Will not Pray'rs make
His Mind relent?
Nur.
He's fierce.
Phæ.
Fierce things have been
Yet tam'd by Love.
Nur.
He'll fly.
Phæ.
We'll follow him.
Tho through the Seas.
Nur.
To mind thy Father call.
Phæ.
And Mother too.
Nur.
He hates your Sex.
Phæ.
We shall
Then fear no Rival.
Nur.
Thy returning Spouse.
Phæ.
Who? the Companion of Pirithous.
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Thy Father too.
Phæ.
Kind Ariadne's Sire.
Nur.
By these Hairs Age hath silver'd, I desire,
This Bosom worn with Cares, these Breasts once dear
To thee, give check unto thy wild Career,
And thy own Succour prove: “'tis to the Mind
“Some part of Cure, to be for Cure inclin'd.
Phæ.
No more, good Nurse, I yeild: nor hath my Breast
All Shame abandon'd. Love! I'll do my best
If thou'lt not bow, to break thee. No Defame
Shall ever blemish my unspotted Name.
There's but one Remedy; on that we're bent:
Follow thy Spouse; thy Sin by Death prevent.
Nur.
Suppress these Thoughts: th'art worthy to enjoy
Life, 'cause thou think'st thy self worthy to die.
Phæ.
No, Nurse; my Death's unalterably set:
Only the kind is undetermin'd yet.
Whether Sword, Halter, Precipice, shall be
My End, is unresolv'd: but, Chastity,
We'll fall thy Sacrifice.
Nur.
And shall I see
And suffer thee to perish willfully?
O check this wilder Fury.
Phæ.
“To restrain
Death, that's decreed and due, all Reason's vain.
Nur.
If then (thou only Comfort of my Age!)
Thy Soul be master'd with so strong a Rage,
Regard not Fame: “Fame's but a Liar still,
“Bad to the Good, and good unto the Ill.
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To work his stubborn Will to yield to thine.
CHORUS.
Goddess! whose Birth from rough Seas came,
Whom Mother the Twin Cupids name:
His powerful Flames subduing Hearts,
How sure that childish Wanton darts,
And with an Aim unerring deals!
Into the melting Marrow steals
The theivish Fire, and of their Food
Robs th'Azure Conduits of the Blood;
No sign the secret Wound betrays,
But on the wasted Spirits prays.
No Truce there is 'twixt him and Hearts,
O'er the whole World he flings his Darts.
Who the Sun's Rise, who his Set sees,
Whom the South scorcheth, North does freeze,
All feel the Fervour of his Fires.
He Youth with wilder Flames inspires,
And in decrepid Age repeats
The Ardor of their languish'd Heats.
He Virgins immaturer Breasts
With strange unknown Desires infests:
And Gods constrains, leaving the Skies,
To trace the Earth in a Disguise;
Sol Herdsman turn'd, in Thessaly
Fed Cattel, and, his Harp laid by,
With Pipe of Reeds uneven made
His Bullocks to their Pasture plaid.
How oft yet under meaner Shrouds
Mask'd hath he been, who Heav'ns and Clouds
Guides with his Hand? with Silver Wings
Now like a Swan he seems, and sings
More sweetly than they dying use.
Now he a Bull's fierce shape indues,
And his smooth Back, whilst one ascends,
Unto the sportive Virgins bends.
Then through his Brother's Waves, untry'd
Before, (whilst Oars his Feet supply'd)
He Victor swims; with fearful Eyes
Regarding still his beauteous Prize.
Dark Night's bright Goddess fir'd, her Sphere
Forsaking, to her Brother's Care
Her Silver Chariot leaves to guide:
He in a less Round learns to ride,
And drive the Two hors'd Coach of Night,
Which now no due Course keeps; the Light
Slowlier returning, 'cause that feels
A Weight too heavy for its Wheels.
Alcmena's Great Son threw aside
His Shafts, and threatning Lion's Hide.
With Em'rauld Rings his Fingers grac'd,
His rough Hairs in due order plac'd.
On's Legs did Gold-wrought Buskins try,
On's Feet did yellow Sandals tie,
And with that Hand, which us'd to ply
His conqu'ring Mace, that Monsters slew,
He Threads with quick-turn'd Spindle drew.
The Persian, and the fertile Land
Of Lydia, pow'rful in Command.
(Disrob'd of his fierce Lion's Skin)
Hath on his mighty Shoulders seen
(On which Heaven's Fabrick once was born)
A slight-weav'd Tyrian Mantle worn.
Whom Mother the Twin Cupids name:
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How sure that childish Wanton darts,
And with an Aim unerring deals!
Into the melting Marrow steals
The theivish Fire, and of their Food
Robs th'Azure Conduits of the Blood;
No sign the secret Wound betrays,
But on the wasted Spirits prays.
No Truce there is 'twixt him and Hearts,
O'er the whole World he flings his Darts.
Who the Sun's Rise, who his Set sees,
Whom the South scorcheth, North does freeze,
All feel the Fervour of his Fires.
He Youth with wilder Flames inspires,
And in decrepid Age repeats
The Ardor of their languish'd Heats.
He Virgins immaturer Breasts
With strange unknown Desires infests:
And Gods constrains, leaving the Skies,
To trace the Earth in a Disguise;
Sol Herdsman turn'd, in Thessaly
Fed Cattel, and, his Harp laid by,
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His Bullocks to their Pasture plaid.
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Mask'd hath he been, who Heav'ns and Clouds
Guides with his Hand? with Silver Wings
Now like a Swan he seems, and sings
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Now he a Bull's fierce shape indues,
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Unto the sportive Virgins bends.
Then through his Brother's Waves, untry'd
Before, (whilst Oars his Feet supply'd)
He Victor swims; with fearful Eyes
Regarding still his beauteous Prize.
Dark Night's bright Goddess fir'd, her Sphere
Forsaking, to her Brother's Care
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He in a less Round learns to ride,
And drive the Two hors'd Coach of Night,
Which now no due Course keeps; the Light
Slowlier returning, 'cause that feels
A Weight too heavy for its Wheels.
Alcmena's Great Son threw aside
His Shafts, and threatning Lion's Hide.
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His rough Hairs in due order plac'd.
On's Legs did Gold-wrought Buskins try,
On's Feet did yellow Sandals tie,
And with that Hand, which us'd to ply
His conqu'ring Mace, that Monsters slew,
He Threads with quick-turn'd Spindle drew.
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Of Lydia, pow'rful in Command.
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Hath on his mighty Shoulders seen
(On which Heaven's Fabrick once was born)
A slight-weav'd Tyrian Mantle worn.
These Fires, if wounded Hearts say true,
Are sacred, and do all subdue.
The Earth which the salt Seas imbrace,
The Heavens which glittering Stars inchace,
Under the cruel Tyranny
Of this blind Boy subjected lie.
Whose Shafts, inevitable, seize
Upon the blue Nereides;
Nor can the Waters of the Main
The Fervour of his Fires restrain.
The winged People of the Sky
No less his powerful Flames do try.
When Venus does their Bloods excite,
How Bulls do for their Heifers fight!
Faint Harts, when their Hinds Love they doubt,
To Combat call their Rivals out,
And signs, by braying, to their Foe
Of their conceived Fury show.
The swarthy Indian then no more
Dares spotted Tygers chase; the Boar
Whetting his angry Tusks, does roam,
And froths his Jaws with a white Foam.
The Libyan Lions shake their Manes,
When in their Breast his Fury reigns.
And with their fiercer Roarings make
The Forests groan, the Ground to quake.
The Horror of the Sea, the Whale;
And Elephant his Fires assail.
All bow to Natures Laws, there's none
Exempt. All Enmity's o'erthrown
At Love's Command, in whose kind Fires
Hate, tho inveterate, expires.
What need we instance more, when Love
Can Hearts of cruel Stepdames move.
Are sacred, and do all subdue.
The Earth which the salt Seas imbrace,
The Heavens which glittering Stars inchace,
Under the cruel Tyranny
Of this blind Boy subjected lie.
Whose Shafts, inevitable, seize
Upon the blue Nereides;
Nor can the Waters of the Main
The Fervour of his Fires restrain.
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No less his powerful Flames do try.
When Venus does their Bloods excite,
How Bulls do for their Heifers fight!
Faint Harts, when their Hinds Love they doubt,
To Combat call their Rivals out,
And signs, by braying, to their Foe
Of their conceived Fury show.
The swarthy Indian then no more
Dares spotted Tygers chase; the Boar
Whetting his angry Tusks, does roam,
And froths his Jaws with a white Foam.
The Libyan Lions shake their Manes,
When in their Breast his Fury reigns.
And with their fiercer Roarings make
The Forests groan, the Ground to quake.
The Horror of the Sea, the Whale;
And Elephant his Fires assail.
All bow to Natures Laws, there's none
Exempt. All Enmity's o'erthrown
At Love's Command, in whose kind Fires
Hate, tho inveterate, expires.
What need we instance more, when Love
Can Hearts of cruel Stepdames move.
| Phaedra and Hippolytus | |