Four Tragedies and Octavia (11 page)

He is a boy who gives his enemy

        No peace; the wide world over,

Ever alert, he makes his arrows fly.

The land that sees the sun newborn, the land

        Beside the western gates,

   The lands that burn under the Crab,

And those that the wild plainsman cultivates

        Under the cold Great Bear –

        Love's fire is everywhere.

   Love stirs the leaping flame of youth,

   And warms the dying ash of age,

Kindles the first fire in a maiden's heart,

   Brings gods from heaven to walk the earth

        In strange disguises.

   Phoebus came down to Thessaly,
¹

To be a neatherd; left his lyre and quill,

   And learnt to use a scaled reed-pipe

        To call the cattle home.

Time and again, the very god who made

Heaven and the clouds, assumed a humbler shape:
²

        A bird, with white wings waving –

A voice, sweeter than any swan's last song –

A lusty grim-faced bull, stooping to carry

A playful maiden on his back and away

To a world his brother owned, not his;

   In he plunged and mastered it,

Paddling with his hoofs for oars, anxious

   As any boatman for the safety

        Of his stolen cargo.

The shining goddess of the darkened sky
³

   Knew love, gave up her rule of night

   And left her chariot of light

To other hands, her brother's; he found out

A way to handle the nocturnal equipage

Around its narrower course, but with his weight

   The wheels drove hard and night ran late

   Delaying the return of day.

        So too Alcmena's son
¹

   Dropped quiver and lion-skin – that huge

   And formidable garment – and allowed

His shaggy hair to be reduced to order

   And emerald rings to grace his fingers,

   Bound his legs with yellow ribbons,

   Cased his feet in golden slippers,

And with a hand that used to wield a club

   Spun yarn upon a twirling spindle.

   Thus in an oriental land,

   In a rich court of wealthy Lydia,

Was seen, instead of the wild lion's mane,

A silky robe of Tyrian workmanship

   Upon that back which once held up

        The kingdom of the sky.

        Great is the power,

        And baneful, of that flame,

   As they whom it has touched can tell.

Where the earth's edge is skirted by the sea,

Where bright stars ride across the upper world,

        The pitiless child holds sway.

Under the waters the blue Nereid hosts

Do not escape his darts; nor can the sea

        Wash that flame's scars away.

        Love drives the desperate bull

        To battle for his herd.

When danger threatens any of his wives,

        The meekest stag will fight.

At such a time, as the black Indian knows,

The motley tiger is a menace; boars

Whet their sharp tusks and fleck their cheeks with foam.

   The Punic lion shakes his mane,

   And speaks his passion with a roar.

Love moves, and the whole forest roars again.

Love moves the monsters of the senseless sea,

And the bull elephant in Luca's fields.
¹

        All nature is his prey;

Nothing escapes; at the command of Love

Old angers die, and enmity gives way.

And, let us not forget, this malady can take

A hard stepmother's cruelty away.

CHORUS
: Nurse, have you news? How is it with the queen?

Does she yet find relief from her great torment?

NURSE
: There is no hope; there can be no relief

From suffering such as hers; the rabid fire

Will never end. The fever silently

Burns in her heart; only her face betrays

The inner anguish which she tries to hide.

Her eyes are bright as flame, while her wan face

She hides from daylight; nothing long contents

Her wandering mind; this way and that she turns,

Her body racked with shifting pain. Sometimes

Stumbling she falls as if she'd live no longer,

Cannot hold up her head, then, calm again,

Lies down to rest, but with no thought of sleep

Weeps all night long. Now ‘Lift me up' she cries,

Then ‘Lay me down'. ‘Unbind my hair' – and soon

She'll have it braided up again; no dress

Pleases her long, but she will have it changed.

She takes no interest in her food or health;

She wanders aimlessly, her strength all spent –

How different from the old activity,

The bright blush painting those clear cheeks! Ravaged

With care her body now, feeble her tread,

Lost all the grace of that sweet loveliness!

Those eyes, the very torches of the sun,

Reflect no trace of what was once their birthright.

Tears flood her face; upon her cheek drops down

The incessant dew, as on the slopes of Taurus

The warm rain falls to melt away the snow.…

   Now they are opening the palace doors,

And there she lies upon a golden couch…

Throwing her customary garments off.…

She will have none of them… she is deranged.

PHAEDRA
[
seen within
]: Out of my sight, slaves, take these broidered robes,

Of gold and purple! Take that Tyrian scarlet,

And silkstuff culled from far-off Seric
¹
trees.

Give me a light robe and a simple sash,

No necklace at my throat, no pendant pearl

From Indian seas hung in my ear; my hair –

Let it be loose and free of Syrian perfume.…

So… falling anyhow about my neck…

Down to my shoulders… let it toss in the wind

As I run… the left hand reaching for the quiver,

The right hand wielding a Thessalian spear.

I shall be like the mother of Hippolytus –

That cruel one – a woman of Maeotis

Or Tanäis, leading her warriors

From frozen Pontus on to Attic soil.…

Hair knotted up… or falling free… her side

Protected by a crescent shield; so I

Will away to the woods.…

CHORUS
:                             Do not weep over her.

Grief cannot help the afflicted. Let your prayers

Invoke the virgin goddess of the wild.

    [
The doors are closed
]

NURSE
: Queen of the forests, Thou who walk'st apart

On the high hills, goddess alone among

The lonely mountains: turn thou into good

These ill-portending omens. Hecate,
²

Of triple aspect, great divinity

Of groves and woods, bright lantern of the sky,

Light of the world, making night beautiful

With thy recurrent beams… ay, with us now

To bless our work! Bend the hard heart

Of that stern youth. Let him relent and hear us.

Soften his iron soul; teach him to love;

Let him too feel that flame; capture his heart;

Let love's law win again that silent, cold,

Reluctant man. For this let all thy powers

Work with us – as we pray thy face may shine

And no cloud dim the glory of thy crescent,

No dark Thessalian witchcraft draw thee down

From where thou ridest through the night, no shepherd

Make thee his thrall.
¹
O Goddess, hear our cry!

Come, and be gracious to our supplication!…

   Yonder I see the man himself. He comes

To make an act of worship, and alone.…

What better time? Here is the chance, the place,

The opportunity. I must be artful.

Am I afraid? It is no easy thing

To be the agent of an evil business

Dictated by another; royalty

Commands, and he who fears to disobey

Must banish honour from his thoughts. Conscience

Is always royalty's worst minister.…

HIPPOLYTUS
: Good nurse, what brings your old feet toiling hither –

Your face so sad – and trouble in your brow?

My father – surely all is well with him?

And Phaedra? And their two sons?

NURSE
:                                             Have no fear.

The kingdom prospers, and good fortune smiles

Upon the royal house. More cause that you

Should smile upon good fortune. I am grieved

And anxious for you, that you lay this hard

Relentless discipline upon yourself.

When fate compels, a man may well be wretched;

But go out of your way to look for trouble,

Torment yourself – then you deserve to lose

The gifts you had no use for. You are young;

Then be young! Free that heart! Salute the night

With fire and revelry! Let Bacchus lift

That heavy load of sadness from your soul.

Life is to be enjoyed; it quickly passes.

Now is the time for ease, the time for youth

To know the joy of love. Let your heart live!

Why do you sleep alone? Unlock those chains

That bind your joyless youth; seize pleasure now,

Give it the reign; the best days of your life

Must not be left to drain away. God gives

Each age its proper occupation, guides

Man's life from step to step; joy is for youth,

The frown for old men's faces. Why should you

Bridle yourself and stifle your true nature?

A farmer reaps the richest crop from fields

In which the blade, when young, was free to thrive

In healthy soil; that tree will top its fellows,

Which has not been cut back or pruned away

By niggling hands. A noble nature needs

The food of healthy freedom, if true worth

Is to bring forth the fruit of good achievement.

Are you some churlish woodsman, ignorant

Of life's true meaning, giving up your youth

To melancholy, hating the name of Venus?

Is this what man was born for – toil and hardship,

Horse-taming, war and bloody battlefields?

Why, are there not already deaths enough

Of different kinds, by sea, by sword, by malice,

Preying upon mankind? Nor need we these –

We find our own way to the eternal dark

Without their aid. Who could praise single life

But youth that asks no future? Have your way

And all that lives will be one passing swarm,

A single generation, doomed to perish.

Did not the Father of the universe

Take thought, having observed Fate's grasping hand,

To find a way how loss might be repaired

By new creation? Why – if from our life

We banish Venus, who replenishes

And recreates our dwindling stock, the earth

Will soon become a desert, drear and ugly,

The sea a dead sea, where there are no fish,

The sky will have no birds, the woods no beasts,

The air will be a place where nothing moves

Except the passing winds. Therefore I say,

Let nature's instinct guide your life; be seen

Here in the city; meet your fellow-men.

HIPPOLYTUS
: There is no other life so free, so pure,

So true to man's primeval laws – as this,

Life far from city walls, a rustic life.
¹

No rage of avarice eats out the hearts

Of simple countrymen who love the mountains.

The winds of popularity, mob rule

Which no good man can trust, the bite of envy,

The treachery of favour, cannot touch them.

The countryman is no king's slave, nor asks

For empty honours, angling after kingship.

He seeks no perishable wealth, he lives

Free of ambition, free of fear. Base jealousy's

Despicable sharp tooth bites not at him.

He is a stranger to the sins that breed

In populous cities, has no need to wake

In guilty fear at every passing sound,

Or guard his speech with lies. The rich man's house,

Pillared and porticoed, the ostentation

Of gold-encrusted ceilings, tempt not him.

He takes no part in pious sacrifices,

Lavish expense of blood, sprinkling of meal

Over a hundred head of snow-white oxen

Stooping for slaughter. Free and innocent

In the open air the countryman commands

His unencumbered land. He can be crafty,

But only in the setting of shrewd snares

For animals; and after the day's toil

His bath is the Ilissos, cooled with snow.

He will be roaming on the riverside

Where swift Alpheus flows, or in the depths

Of some dark wood, some hushed retreat beside

Lerna's pellucid water, clean and cold;

The only sound the shrill bird's cry, the stir

Of ancient beech and ash touched by the breeze.

He loves to rest beside some straying brook,

To sleep on naked ground; a waterfall,

Perhaps, pours copiously down, a stream

Winds prattling pleasantly through fresh-sprung flowers.

His food is easily supplied; wild fruits

Shaken from trees, and berries picked from shrubs

Keep hunger off. Banquets in regal style

He heartily detests; what danger lurks

In the gold cups of high society!

What pleasure in a drink scooped by bare hands

From running water! Sleep comes easily

To care-free bodies on uncushioned beds.

Unlike the sinner seeking furtive joys

In darkened bedchambers, behind closed doors,

In the recesses of the tortuous palace

In which he hides his shame – the countryman

Seeks light and open air, and lives his life

Under the eye of heaven.

                                       So, I think,

Men lived in the olden days, the men who shared

Their life on earth with gods.
¹
They had no gold

To excite their blind desires. No legal landmarks –

Stones to give laws to families of men –

Divided field from field. There were no ships

Striking out confidently through the sea;

What sea they knew was near at hand. No cities

Stood within massive many-towered ramparts;

There were no soldiers armed with cruel steel,

No catapults bombarding bolted gates

With heavy stones. The land was not enslaved

To any master's will, the soil not subject

To teams of oxen. Man made no demands,

But self-productive fields supplied his needs.

What wealth the woods contained, they freely gave;

Homes were as nature built them – cool dark caves.

This state of peace was wickedly destroyed

By the accursed lust for gain, blind hate,

And all the reckless passions which ignite

And dominate man's soul: the thirst for power,

Whetted by blood; strong preying upon weak;

Might standing in the place of right. Bare hands

Were the first weapons; then came stones and clubs.

That was before the slender cornel shaft

With tapered iron point was made, or longsword

Slung from the belt; before the crested helmet

Proclaimed the oncoming foe; the rage for battle

Was weapon enough in those days. But the War God

Devised new kinds of strategy, and death

In myriad shapes, until the whole earth's soil

Was stained with blood and all the sea grew red.

There was no stopping it, crime walked unchecked

Through every home of man, no shape of sin

Lacked its example. Brother fell to brother,

Sons slew their fathers, wives shed husbands' blood,

Mothers, defying nature's law, destroyed

Their infants ere they lived. Stepmothers –

What can one say of them? – wild beasts

Have more compassion. Woman, say what you will,

Is the prime mover of all wickedness;

Expert in every evil art, woman

Lays siege to man; for her adulteries

Cities have burned, nation made war on nation,

Multitudes perished in the fall of kingdoms.

Let one example speak for all: Medea,

Aegeus' wife, proclaims all. women damned.

NURSE
: If some have been at fault, must all be damned?

HIPPOLYTUS
: I hate them all; I dread, I shun, I loathe them.

I choose – whether by reason, rage, or instinct –

I choose to hate them. Can you marry fire

To water? Can ships safely sail the quicksands?

Can Tethys make the sun rise in the west?

Can wild wolves smile on does? No more can I

Consent to have a tender thought for woman.

NURSE
: It has been known for Love to put a bridle

On fractious tempers, and to cast out hate.

Think of the women whom your mother ruled;

Fighters they were, yet knew the bonds of Venus –

Witness yourself, their one surviving son.
¹

HIPPOLYTUS
: One thing consoles me for my mother's death: