Hippolytus.
Depart, mine henchmen, enter ye the halls,
And set on bread. The full board welcome is 110
When hunting's done. And one must groom my steeds,
That I may yoke them to the chariot-pole,
Being full of meat, and breathe them in the race.
But to thy Kypris wave I long farewell.
[Exit.
Servant.
But we, who must not tread in steps of youth, 115
Who are wise[1] —so far as thralls dare claim to be,—
Make supplication to thine images,
Queen Kypris. It beseems thee to forgive,
If one that bears through youth a vehement heart
Speak folly. Be as though thou heardest not;
For wiser Gods should be than mortal men. 120
Enter Chorus of Træzenian Ladies.
Chorus.
A rock there is, wherefrom, as they tell, the springs of
the heart of the Ocean well,
Whence the rifts of the crags overbeetling
send
For the plunging urns their founts outstreaming:
Even there did I light on a maiden my friend,
As she drenched the mantles purple-gleaming
In the riverward-glittering spray,
And spread the dye of the Tyrian shell on the rocks
where glowing the sunbeams fell.
Hers were the lips that I first heard say
How wasteth our lady away: 130
- ↑ Φρονοῦντες sc. εὖ
