Thou still shalt meet thy fitting punishment.
Persistent shall I chase thee in thy flight
Through all thy hiding-places. Ways remote,
Hemmed in, secluded, hard and trackless ways,
I'll traverse in pursuit. No obstacle 940
Shall block my way. Thou know'st whence I return.
And whither spears cannot be hurled at thee
I'll hurl my prayers. My father of the sea
Once promised me that thrice I might prevail
With him in prayer, and ratified the boon
By oath upon the inviolable Styx.
[To Neptune.]
Thou ruler of the sea, the boon bestow, 945
And grant my prayer: let not Hippolytus
Live to behold another sun's bright rays,
But may he go to meet those shades of hell
Enraged at my escape. O father, now
I pray that aid which still I deprecate.
This last of thy three boons I would not use, 950
If I were not beset by grievous ills.
Amidst the depths of hell and dreadful Dis,
Amidst the infernal king's pursuing threats,
I did not call on thee. But now I claim
Thy promise, father. Why delay thine aid?
Why are thy waves inactive? Let the winds 955
That drive the blackening clouds bring darkness on;
Snatch stars and sky from sight; pour forth the sea;
Arouse thy watery monsters, and let loose
On him from ocean's depths thy swelling waves.
[Exit Theseus.]
Chorus: Great nature, mother of the gods,
And thou, fire-girt Olympus' lord, 960
Who speedest through the flying skies
The scattered stars, the wandering ways
Of constellations, and the heavens
Upon their whirling axes turn'st:
Why is thy care so great to keep
The annual highways of the air, 965
That now the hoary frosts may strip
