Racine: Phaedra

Ijo
EURIPIDES
My sons to perish by detested hands
They certainly must die ; since then they must,
I bore and I will slay them. O my heart
Be armed with tenfold firmness. What avails it
To loiter, when inevitable ills
Remain to be accomplished? Take the sword,
And, O my hand, on to the goal that ends
Their life, nor let one intervening thought
Of pity or maternal tenderness
Suspend thy purpose : for this one short day
Forget how fondly thou didst love thy sons,
How bring them forth, and after that lament
Their cruel fate: although thou art resolved
To slay, yet hast thou ever held them dear.
But I am of all women the most wretched.
[Exit Medea,
Chorus.— Earth, and thou sun, whose fervid blaze
From pole to pole illumes each distant land.
View this abandoned woman, ere she raise
Against her children's lives a ruthless hand
For from thy race, divinely bright,
They spring, and should the sons of gods be slain
By man, 'twere dreadful. O restrain
Her fury, thou celestial source of light.
Ere she with blood pollute your regal dome,
Chased by the demons hence let this Erinyes roam.
The pregnant matron's throes in vain
Hast thou endured, and borne a lovely race,
O thou, who o'er th' inhospitable main.
Where the Cyanean rocks scarce leave a space.
Thy daring voyage didst pursue.
Why, O thou wretch, thy soul doth anger rend,
Such as in murder soon must end ?
They who with kindred gore are stained shall rue
Their guilt inexpiable : full well I know
The gods will on this house inflict severest woe.
1st Son [within].—Ah me! what can I do, or whither fly
To 'scape a mother's arm?