How huge-Mægara stalks! what streaming fires
Blaze from her glaring eyes! what serpents curl
In horrid wreaths, and hiss around her head!
Now, now she drags me to the bar of Minos:
See how the awful judges of the dead
Look stedfast hate, and horrible dismay!
See, Minos turns away his loathing eyes;

"Rage choaks his struggling words; the fatal urn "Drops from his trembling hand.” O all ye gods! What, Lycon here? O execrable villain!

Then am I still on earth? By hell I am, A fury now, a scourge preserv'd for Lycon. See, the just beings offer to my vengeance That impious slave. Now, Lycon, for revenge: Thanks, Heaven, 'tis here. I'll strike it to his heart. [Mistaking Theseus for Lycon, offers to stab him. "Guards. Heav'ns! 'tis your lord."

Phaed. My lord! O equal Heav'n !

Must each portentous moment rise in crimes,

And sallying life go off in parricide?
This glimpse of reason some indulgent God

Hath granted me to close the scene of guilt.

Then trust not thy slow drugs.-Thus sure of death

Compleat thy horrors.-And if this suffice not,

Thou, Minos, do the rest.

[Stabs berself.

Thes. Desprate to the last-in ev'ry passion furious.

Phæd. I ask not,

Nor do I hope from thee forgiveness, Theseus;

But yet amidst my crimes remember still,

That

my offence was not my nature's fault.

The wrath of Venus, which pursues our race,
First kindled in my breast those guilty fires.
Resistless goddess, I confess thy pow'r,

To thee I make libation of my

blood.

Venus, avert thy hate-may wretched Phaedra
Prove the last victim of her fated line.

Thes. "At length she's quiet," she's dead;

[Dies.

And now earth bears not such a wretch as Theseus.

"Yet I'll obey Hippolitus, and live:

"Then to the wars; and as the Corybantines,

"With clashing shields and braying trumpets, drown'd
"The cries of infant Jove, I'll stifle conscience,
"And Nature's murmurs, in the din of arms.
"But what are arms to me is he not dead
"For whom I fought? for whom my hoary age
"Glow'd with the boiling heat of youth in battle?"
How then to drag a wretched life beneath
An endless round of still-returning woes,
And all the gnawing pangs of vain remorse?
What torment's this?—Therefore, O greatly thought!
Therefore do justice on thyself, and live;

Live above all most infinitely wretched.
Ismena too-Nay then, avenging Heav'n

ISMENA enters.

Has vented all its rage.

O wretched maid!

Why dost thou come to swell ny raging grief?
66 Why add to sorrows, and embitter woes?
"Why do thy mournful eyes upbraid my guilt."

Why thus recal to my afflicted soul

The sad remembrance of my godlike son,
Of that dear youth my cruelty has murder'd?
O gods your reddest bolts of fire

Had dealt less torment to my suff'ring frame
Than that destructive word hath given my heart.
Life yields beneath the sound.

"Ism. Ruin'd! O all ye powers! O awful Theseus!

"Say, where's my lord? say, where has fate dispos'd

him?

"O speak! the fear distracts me.

"Thes. Gods! can I speak?

"Can I declare his fate to his Ismena!

"O lovely maid! couldst thou admit of comfort, "Thou shouldst for ever be my only care,

"Work of my life, and labour of my soul. "For thee alone my sorrows, lull'd, shall cease, "Cease for a while to mourn my murder'd son; "For thee alone my sword once more shall rage, "Restore the crown of which it robb'd your race. "Then let your grief give way to thoughts of empire; "At thy own Athens reign. The happy crowd "Beneath the easy yoke with pleasure bow,

"And think in thee their own Minerva reigns.

"Ism. Must I then reign, nay, must I live without

him?

"Not so, O godlike youth! you lov'd Ismena: "You, for her sake, refus'd the Cretan empire, "And yet a nobler gift, the royal Phædra. Shall I then take a crown, a guilty crown,

"From the relentless hand that doom'd thy death? "Oh! 'tis in death alone I can have ease,

"And thus I find it.

[Offers to stab herself."

HIPPOLITUS enters.

"Hip. O forbear, Ismena!

"Forbear, chaste maid, to wound thy tender bosom. "O Heav'n and earth! should she resolve to die, "And snatch all beauty from the widow'd earth ? "Was it for me, ye gods! she'd fall a victim? "Was it for me she'd die? O heav'nly virgin! Revive, Ismena,

Return to light, to happiness and love;

See, see thy own Hippolitus, who lives,
And hopes to live for thee.

Ism. Hippolitus!

"Am I alive or dead? Is this Elysium? "'Tis he, 'tis all Hippolitus. Art well? "Art thou not wounded?"

Thes. "O unhop'd for joy!”

Stand off, and let me fly into his arms.

Speak, say, what god, what miracle preserv'd thee? Didst thou not strike thy father's cruel present,

My sword, into thy breast?

Hip, I aim'd it there,

But turn'd it from myself, and slew Cratander;
The guards, not trusted with his fatal orders,
Granted my wish, and brought me to the king.
I fear'd not death, but could not bear the thought
Of Theseus' sorrow, and Ismena's loss

Therefore I hasten'd to your royal presence,

Here to receive my doom.

Thes. Be this thy doom,

To live for ever,in Ismena's arms.

Go, heav'nly pair, and with your dazzling virtues, Your courage, truth, your innocence and love, Amaze and charm mankind ;- and rule that empire, For which in vain your rival fathers fought.

"Ism. O killing joy!"

Hip. O ecstacy of bliss!

Am

possess'd at last of my Ismena?

"Of that celestial maid, O pitying gods!

"How shall I thank your bounties for my suff'rings, "For all my pains, and all the pangs I've borne? "Since 'twas to them I owe divine Ismena,

"To them I owe the dear consent of Theseus."

Yet there's a pain lies heavy on my heart,

For the disastrous fate of hapless Phædra!

Thes. Deep was her anguish; for the wrongs she

did you.

She chose to die, and in her death deplor'd

Your fate, and not her own.

"Hip. I've heard it all."

Unhappy Phadra!

"Oh! had not passion sully'd her renown,

"None e'er on earth had shone with equal lustre !

"So glorious liv'd, or so lamented died.

"Her faults were only faults of raging love,

"Her virtues all her own.

"Ism. Unhappy Phædra!

"Was there no other way, ye pitying pow'rs,