Racine: Phaedra

MEDEA' 103
For ne'er on our uncultured mind
Hath Phoebos, god of verse, bestowed
Genius to frame the lofty ode
Else had we waked the lyre, and in reply
With descants on man's infamy
Oft lengthened out th' opprobrious page.
Yet may we from each distant age
Collect such records as disgrace
Both us and man's imperious race.
By love distracted, from thy native strand,
Thou 'twixt the ocean's clashing rocks didst sail.
But now, loathed inmate of a foreign land,
Thy treacherous husband's loss art doomed to waiL
O hapless matron, overwhelmed with woe,
From this unpitying realm dishonored must thou go.
No longer sacred oaths their credit bear,
And virtuous shame hath left the Grecian plain,
She mounts to Heaven, and breathes a purer air.
For thee doth no paternal house remain
The sheltering haven from affliction's tides
Over these hostile roofs a mightier queen presides.
Enter Jason.
Jason.—Not now for the first time, but oft, full oft
Have I observed that anger is a pest
The most unruly. For when in this land.
These mansions, you in peace might have abode,
By patiently submitting to the will
Of your superiors, you, for empty words,
Are doomed to exile. Not that I regard
Your calling Jason with incessant rage
The worst of men ;
but for those bitter taunts
With which you have reviled a mighty king,
Too mild a penalty may you esteem
Such banishment. I still have soothed the wrath
Of the offended monarch, still have wished
That you might here continue ; but no bounds