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Ha! Theseus, gods! My freezing blood congeals,
THESEUS. And all my thoughts, designs, and words are lost.
And mine and all.-Oh most abandon'd villain! Enter Theseus.
Oh lasting scandal to our godlike race !
That could contrive a crime so foul as incest
Incest! Oh name it not !-
The gods are startled in their peaceful mansions,
Thou brutal wretch! Thou execrable monster! With fiercest bliss atone for our delay,
To break through all the laws that early flow And in a moment love the age we've lost.
From untaught reason, and distinguish man;
Mix like the senseless herd with bestial lust,
Mother and son preposterously wicked ;
To banish from thy soul the reverence due Stand off, approach me, touch me not ; fly to honour, nature, and the genial bed, hence,
And injure one so great, so good as Theseus. Far as the distant skies or deepest centre.
Amazement' Death! Ye gods who guide the Oh slave! to wrong such purity as thive,
To injure one so great, so good as Phædra; world,
Such dazzling brightness, such exalted virtue.
Virtue! All-seeing gods, you know my virtue ! With eager raptures, and tumultuous transports ? Must I support all this? O righteous Heaven! Ev'n painful joys, and agonies of bliss!
Can't I yet speak? Reproach I could have borne, Did I for this obey my Phædra's call,
Pointed his satyrs stings, and edg'd his rage, And fly with trembling haste to meet her arms?
But to be prais'd—Now, Minos, I defy thee; And am I thus receiv'd ? O cruel Phædra!
Ev'n all thy dreadful magazines of pains, Was it for this you rouz'd my drowsy soul
Stones, furies, wheels, are slight to what I suffer, From the dull lethargy of hopeless love?
And Hell itself's relief. And dost thou only show those beauteous eyes
THESEUS. To wake despair, and blast me with their bearns ?
What's Hell to thee?
What crimes could'st thou commit? Or what Oh! kere that all to which the gods have doom'
Could innocence so pure as Phædra's fear.
Our latest annals shall record thy glory,
The maid's example, and the matron's theme.
In animated gold. The threatening sword Fear not to speak it ; that harmonious voice Shall hang for ever o'er thy snowy bosom; Will make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing, Such heavenly beauty on thy face shall bloom, And charm the grief it brings.—Thus let me hear it, As shall almost excuse the villain's crime; Thus in thy sight; thus gazing on those eyes,
But yet that firmness, that unshaken virtue, I can support the utmost spite of Fate,
As still shall make the monster more detested. And stand the rage of Heaven, -Approach, my
Where-e'er you pass, the crowded way shall sound fair!
With joyful cries, and endless acclamations :
And when aspiring bards, in daring strains,
Shall raise some heavenly matron to the Powers,
They'll say, she's great, she's true, she's chaste as Off, or I fly for ever from thy sight:
This might have been.-But now, oh cruel Forget the villain, drive him from your soul,
Now, as I pass, the crowded way shall sound PHÆDRA.
With hissing scorn, and murmurin, detestation : Can I forget, or drive him from my soul ? The latest annals shall record my shame; Oh! he will still be present to my eyes;
And when th' avenging Muse with pointed rage His words will ever echo in my ears;
Would sink some impious woman down to Hell, Still will he be the torture of my days,
She'll say, she's false, she's base, she's foul as Bane of my life, and ruin of my glory.
In every word and look, each godlike act,
Could'st thou not see Hippolitus was guiltless ?
Guiltless! Oh all ye gods! What can this mean?
Mean! That the guilt is mine, that virtuous
The maid's example, and the matron's theme,
With bestial passion woo'd your loathing son; MESSENGER.
And when deny'd, with impious accusation
Sully'd the lustre of his shining honour;
I try'd in vain to shake.
Is he then guiltless ?
What a detested parricide is Theseus !
What am I? What indeed, but one more black
Than Earth or Hell e'er bore! O horrid mixture
In what a Hell of woes thy arts have plung'd me.
Lycon! Here, guards ! -Oh most abandon'd Oh, only worthy of the love of Phædra !
villain! Haste then, let's join our well-met hands together; Secure him, seize him, drag him piece-meal hither, Unite for ever, and defy the gods To show a pair so eminently wretched.
Who has, my lord, incurr'd your high dis-
Who can it be, ye gods, but perjur'd Lycon ?
Who can inspire such storms of rage, but Lycon? PHÆDRA.
Where has my sword left one so black, but Lycon? Hippolitus a villain !
Where! Wretched Theseus! in thy bed and heart, Oh, he was all his godlike sire could wish,
The very darling of my soul and eyes! The pride of Theseus, and the hopes of Crete. Oh beauteous fiend ! But trust not to thy form. Nor did the bravest of his godlike race
You too, my son, was fair; your manly beauties Tread with such early hopes the paths of honour. Charm'd every heart (0 Heavens !) to your de
You too were good, your virtuous soul abhorr'd What can this mean? Declare, ambiguous The crimes for which youdy'd. Oh impious Phædra! . Phædra;
Incestuous fury! Execrable murth'ress? Say, wheuce these shifting gusts of clashing rage? Is there revenge on Earth, or pain in Hell, Why are thy doubtful speeches dark and troubled, Can art invent, or boiling rage suggest, As Cretan seas when vext by warring winds? Ev'n endless torture which thou shalt not suffer? Why is a villain, with alternate passion,
PHÆDRA. Accus'd and prais'd, detested and deplor'd ?
And is there aught on Earth I would not suffer? PHÆDRA,
Oh, were there vengeance equal to my crines, Canst thou not guess ?.
Thou need'st not claim it, most unhappy youth, Canst thou not read it in my furious passions ? From any hands but mine : T'avenge thy fate, In all the wild disorders of my soul ?
I'd court the fiercest pains, and sue for tortures; Could'st thou not see it in the noble warmth And Phædra's sufferings should atone for thine: That urg'd the daring youth to acts of honour ? Ev'n now I fall a victim to thy wrongs; Could'st thou not find it in the generous truth, Ev'n now a fatal draught works out my soul; Which sparkid in his eyes, and open'd in his face? Ev'n now it curdles in my shrinking veins Could'st not perceive it in the chaste reserve? The lazy blood, and freezes at my heart,
Lycon brought in.
Thee through the dismal waste of gloomy death;
Thee through the glimmering dawn, and purerday, THESEUS.
Through all th’ Eiysian plains: O righteous Minos! Hast thou escap'd iny wrath ? Yet, impious Elysian plains! There he and his Ismena Lycon,
Shall sport for ever, shall for ever drink
In lonely plains; while all the blackest ghosts
And more accurs'd than they.
I too must go;
Whence no Alcides will release me now.
gether : Give me but life, and make that life most wretched. See Hell sets wide its adamantine gates,
See through the sable gates the black Cocytus PHÆDRA.
In smoky cireles rowls its tiery waves : Art thou so base, so spiritless a slave ?
Hear, hear the stunning harmonies of woe, Not so the lovely youth thy arts have ruin'd, The din of rattliny chains, of clashing whips, Not so he bore the fate to which you doom'd him. Of groans, of loud complaints, of piercing shrieks,
That wide through all its gloomy world resound. THESEUS.
How buge Mægara stalks! what streaming fires Oh abject villain! Yet it gives me joy
Blaze from her glaring eyes! what serpents curl To see the fears that shake thy guilty soul, Iu horrid wreaths, and hiss around her head! Enhance thy crimes, and antedate thy woes. Now, now she drags me to the bar of Minos. Oh, how thou ’lt howl thy fearful soul away; See how the awful judges of the dead While laughing crowds shall echo to thy cries, Look stedfast hate, and horrible dismay ! And make thy pains their sport! Haste, hence, See Minos turns away bis loathing eyes, away with him,
Rage choaks his struggling words: the fatal urn Drag him to all the torments Earth can furnish; Drops frc:n his trembling hand : O all ye gods! Let him be rack'd and gash'd, impal'd alive; What, Lycon here! Oh execrable villain! Then let the mangled monster, fix'd on high, Then am I still on Earth ? By Heil I am, Grin o'er the shouting crowds, and glut their A fury now, a scourge preserv'd for Lycon ! vengeance.
See, the just beings offer to my vengeance And is this all ? And art thou now appeas'd ? That impious slave. Now, Lycon, for revenge ; Will this atone for poor Hippolitus !
Thanks, Heaven, 'tis here. I'll steal it to his Oh ungorgd appetite ! On ravenous thirst
heart. Of a son’s blood! What not a day, a moment ! [Mistaking Theseus for Lycon, offers to stab him. PHAEDRA,
GUARDS Aday! A moment! Oh! thou should'st have staid Heavens ! 'tis your lord. Years, ages, all the round of circling time,
PHEDRA, Ere touch'd the life of that consummate youth.
My lord! O equal Heaven! THESEUS.
Must each portentous moment rise in crimes, And yet with joy I flew to his destruction, And sallying life go off in parricide? Boasted his fate, and triumph'd in his ruin. Then trust not thy slow drugs. Thus sure of death Nut this I promis'd to his dying mother,
[Słabs herself. When in her mortal pangs she sighing gave me Complete thy horrors
-And if this suffice not, The last cold kisses from her trembling lips, Thuu, Minos, do the rest. And reach'd her feeble wandering hands to mine; When her last breath, now quivering at her mouth,
At length she's quiet, Implord my goodness to her lovely son;
And Earth now bears not such a wretch as Theseus; To ber Hippolitus. He, alas! descends An early victim to the lazy shades,
Yet I'll obey Hippolitus, and live: (Oh Heaven and Earth!) by Theseus doom'd, Then to the wars; and as the Corybantines,
With clashing shields, and braying trumpets, descends.
The cries of infant Jove I'll stifle conscience, He's doom'd by Theseus, but accus'd by Phædra, And Nature's murmurs in the din of arms. By Phaedra's madness, and by Lycon's hatred. But what are arms to me? Is he not dead Yet with my life I expiate my frenzy,
For whom I fought? For whom my hoary age And die for thee, my headlong rage destroy'd : Glow'd with the boiling beat of youth in battle? Thee I pursue (oh great ill-fated youth!) How then to drag a wretche:l life beneath, Pursue thee still, but now with chaste desires ; An endless round of still returning woes,
And all the gnawing pangs of vain remorse? Speak, say, what god, what miracle preserv'd thee ? What torment's this? --Therefore, Ogreatly Didst thou not strike thy father's cruel present, thought,
My sword, into thy breast?
I aim'd it there,
But turn'd it from myself, and slew Cratander; Ismena enters.
The guards, not trusted with his fatal orders, Has venied all its rage. - wretched maid! Granted my wish, and brought me to the king: Why dost thou come to swell my raging grief!.
I feard oot death, but could not bear the thought Why add to sorrows, and embitter woes?
Of Theseus' sorrow, aud Ismena's loss; Why do thy mournful eyes upbraid my guilt ?
Therefore I hasten'd to your royal presence, Why thus recall to my afflicted soul
Here to receive my doom. The sad remambrance of my god-like son,
Be this thy doom,
To live for ever in Ismena's arms.
Amaze and charm mankind; and rule that empire, Oh speak! the fear distracts me.
For which in vain your rival fathers fought.
Oh extasy of bliss ! Work of my life, and labour of my soul.
Am 1 possess'd at last of my Ismena?
Yet there's a pain lies heavy on my heart,
Deep was her anguish; for the wrongs she did ISMENA.
Your fate, and not her own.
I've heard it all. Shall I then take a crown, a guilty crown,
O! had not passion sully'd her renown, From the relent'ess hand that do im'd thy death? None e'er on Earth bad shone with equal lustre ; Oh ! 'tis in death alone I can have ease.
So glorious liv'd, or so lamented dy'd. And thus I find it.
[Offers to stab herself. Her faults were only faults of raging love,
Her virtues all her own.
Then must I ever mourn her cruel fate, Was it for me, ye gods! she'd fall a victim?
And in the midst of my triumphant joy, Was for me sbe'd die? O heavenly virgin !
Evin in my hero's arms, confess some sortow. See, see thy own Hippolitus, who lives, And hopes to live for thee.
O tender maid! forbear, with ill-tim'd grief, ISMENA.
To damp our blessings, and incense the gods: Hippolitus!
But let's away, and pay kind Heav'n our thanks Am I alive or dead! is this Elysium !
For all the wonders in our favour wrought; "Tis he, 'tis all Hippolitus-Ar't well?
That Heaven, whose mercy rescued erring Thesens Ar't thou not wounded ?
From execrable crimes, and endless woes.
Then learn from me, ye kings that rule the world, THESEUS.
With equal poize let steady justice sway, Oh unbop'd-for joy! And flagrant crimes with certain vengeance pay, Stand off, and let me fly into his arms.
But, till the proofs are clear, the stroke delay.
Omen habet certè superâ quod vescitur aura The righteous gods, that innocence require,
Tum primum, lætos æstas cum pandat honores, Protect the goodness which themselves inspire.
Omnia cum vireant, cum formosissimus annus. Unguarded virtue human arts defies,
Et Vos felices optatâ prole Parentes ! Th’accus'd is happy, while th' accuser dies.
Quos nunc Parca piis respexit mota querelis : [Exeunt omnes.
En! vestræ valuêre preces; vietrixque Deorum
O quæ vita dabit, cui dat miracula partus?
I, Princeps, olim patrios imitare triumphos,
Et semper magni vestigia Patris adora : Jam non vulgares, Isis, molire triumphos, Hic primâ pondum indutus lanugine malas Augustos Isis nunquam tacitura Stuartos.
Invictis orbem per totum inclaruit armis. Tu quoties crebris cumulâsti altaria donis
Illius ad tonitru Batavi tremuére; Jacobum Multa rogans numen, cui vincta jugalia curæ ! Agnovit dominum sunmissis navita velis. At jam votivam Superis suspende tabellam; Te quoque Belga tremat, metuat rediviva Jacobi Sunt rata vota tibi, sevique oblita doloris
Fulmina, cujus adhuc miserè conservat hiantes Amplexu parvi gaudet Regina Jacobi.
Ore cicatrices, vastæ et monumenta ruinæ. Languentes dadum priscus vigor afflat ocellos, Subjectus famulas Nereus Tibi porrigat undas : Infans et caræ suspensus in oscula Matris
Ipse tuo da jura mari. Numine jam spirat blando, visumque tenellum Cumque Pater tandem divis miscebitur ipse Miscet parva quidem, sed vivida Patris imago. Divus (at ô! tardè sacra ducite stamina, Parcæ,) O etiam patrio vivat celebratus honore,
Assere tu nostri jus immortale Monarchæ; Vivat canitie terris venerandus eâdem !
Tu rege subjectum patriis virtutibus orbem.
EDMUNDUS SMITH, Edis Christi Commensalis. "From the Strenæ Natalitiæ Academiae Oxonjensis in celsissimum Principem. Oxonii,è Theatro Sheldoniano. An. Dom. 1688,-The uncommon excellence of Edmund Smith's productions must
ON ensure them a favourable reception ; especially when it is considered, that at the time of their
THE INAUGURATION OF composition he was only one remove from a school KING WILLIAM AND QUEEN MARY:. boy. Had Dr. Johnson seen the first of these pub. lications, he would not have been at a loss to de Mauritu ingentis celso de sanguine natum, termine, in the excellent life he bas given the Mauritioque parem, solenni dicere versu world of Smith, whether the latter was admitted Te, Gulielme, juvat: nunc ô! mihi pectora flammâ in the university in the year 1689, as he would Divinâ caleant, nunc me furor excitet idem, thence have been enabled to pronounce with cer
Qui Te, ingens heros, bello tot adire labores tainty, that he was in 1688 a member of Christ Instigat, mediosque ardentem impellit in hostes. Church. I take this to have been the year of
Te tenero latè jactabat fama sub ævo: Smith's admission; and that he was then just Cæpisti, quà finis erat; maturaque virtus come off from Westminster, in time to signalize Edidit ante diem fructus, tardèque sequentes his abilities by writing on the Birth of the Prince Annos præcurrit longè, et post terga reliquit. of Wales, when a FRESHMAN (according to the Jam Te, jam videor flagrantes cernere vultus, university phrase) and before he was appointed to
Dum primas ducis fervens in prælia turmas : a studentship; for his name is subscribed to that Jam cerno oppositas acies, quanto impete præceps copy of verses, with the addition of COMMONER. Tela per et gladios raperis; quo fulmine belli The great superiority of genius that is displayed Adversum frangiscuneum, et media agmina misces in this first-school-boy's—production of Smith, Num ferus invadit Belgas Turennius heros, beyond what Addison has discovered in his first Invictis semper clarus Turennius armis, performance—the Pastoral on the Inauguration of Et, quacunque ruit, ferro bacchatur et igni? King William and Queen Mary-sufficiently serves
'Tu primo vernans jucundæ flore juventæ to account for Smith's being, as Dr. Johuson ob-Congrederis, ducente Deo, Deus ipse Batavis. serves, “one of the murmurers at fortune; and Congrederis; non Te Gallorum immania terrent wondering, why he was suffered to be poor, 'when Agmina, non magni Turennius agminis instar. Addison was caressed and preferred.” Smith
Heu quas tum ferro strages, quæ funera latè could not but be conscious of the greater degree Edideris, quantosque viros demiseris orco! of literary merit he himself possessed even in the
Sic cum congestos struxêre ad sidera montes very department to which Addison owed the carlier Terrigenæ fratres, superos detrudere cæo part of his fame, THE WRITING OF LATIN VERSE; Aggressi, posito tum plectro intonsus Apollo -and on comparing their jurenile performances, Armatâ sumpsit fatalia spicula dextrâ : it is evident that Sinith had reason enough for that
Tunc audax ruit in bellun, et turit acer in armis, consciousness.-Addison first recommended him Et Martem, atque ipsas longè anteit fulminis alas. self to notice by his dedication of the Muse inglicane to Lord Ha ifax, and by the poeins of his own * From the Vota Oxoniensia pro serenissimis therein inserted. But what are his poems in com Guilhelmo Rege et Maria Regina M. Britanniæ, parison of SMITH'S.
&c. nuncupata. Oxonii, è Theatro Sheldoniano. KYNASTON. An. Dom. 1689.