Racine: Phaedra

MEDEA 93
Nurse.—Why should the sons—ah, wretched me !— partake
Their father's guilt ? Why hat'st thou them ? Ah me I
How greatly, O ye children, do I fear
Lest mischief should befall you : for the souls
Of kings are prone to cruelty, so seldom
Subdued, and over others wont to rule,
That it is difficult for such to change
Their angry purpose. Happier I esteem
The lot of those who still are wont to live
Among their equals. May I thus grow old.
If not in splendor, yet with safety blest
For first of all, renown attends the name
Of mediocrity, and to mankind
Such station is more useful : but not long
Can the extremes of grandeur ever last
And heavier are the curses which it brings
When Fortune visits us in all her wrath.
Chorus.—The voice of Colchos' hapless dame I heard
A clamorous voice, nor yet is she appeased.
Speak, O thou aged matron, for her cries
I from the innermost apartment heard
Nor can I triumph in the woes with which
This house is visited ; for to my soul
Dear are its interests.
Nurse,— This whole house is plunged
In ruin, and its interests are no more.
While Corinth's palace to our lord affords
A residence, within her chamber pines
My mistress, and the counsels of her friends
Afford no comfort to her tortured soul.
Medea [unthin].—O that a flaming thunderbolt from Heaven
Would pierce this brain ! for what can longer life
To me avail ? Fain would I seek repose
In death, and cast away this hated being.
Chorus.—Heard'st thou, all-righteous Jove, thou fostering
earth.
And thou, O radiant lamp of day, what plaints,
What clamorous plaints this miserable wife
Hath uttered? Through insatiable desire,
Ah why would you precipitate your death ?