Racine: Phaedra

LIFE A DREAM «43
To draw to mutual recognition those
Of the same blood, beyond all memory-
Divided, or ev'n never met before.
I know not how this is— perhaps in brutes
That live by kindlier instincts—but I know
That looking now upon that head whose crown
Pronounces him a sovereign king, I feel
No setting of the current in my blood
Tow'rd him as sire. How is 't with you, old man,
Tow'rd him they call your son?
King.— Alas ! Alas I
Segismund.—Your sorrow, then?
King.— Beholding what I do.
Segismund.—Ay, but how know this sorrow, that has grown
And moulded to this present shape of man,
As of your own creation ?
King.— Ev'n from birth.
Segismund.—But from that hour to this, near, as I think.
Some twenty such renewals of the year
As trace themselves upon the barren rocks,
I never saw you, nor you me—unless,
Unless, indeed, through one of those dark masks
Through which a son might fail to recognize
The best of fathers ?
King.— Be that as you will
But, now we see each other face to face,
Know me as you I know ; which did I not,
By whatsoever signs, assuredly
You were not here to prove it at my risk.
Segismund.—You are my father.
And is it true then, as Clotaldo swears,
'Twas you that from the dawning birth of one
Yourself brought into being— you, I say,
Who stole his very birthright ;
not alone
That secondary and peculiar right
Of sovereignty, but even that prime
Inheritance that all men share alike.
And chain'd him—chain'd him!—like a wild beast's
whelp,
Among as savage mountains, to this hour?
Answer if this be thus.