Racine: Phaedra

268
CALDERON
The word of civil justice from such lips
As never yet seem'd tuned to such discourse.
But listen—In that same enchanted tower,
Not long ago I learn 'd it from a dream
Expounded by this ancient prophet here
And which he told me, should it come again,
How I should bear myself beneath it ; not
As then with angry passion all on fire,
Arguing and making a distemper'd soul
But ev'n with justice, mercy, self-control,
As if the dream I walk'd in were no dream.
And conscience one day to account for it.
A dream it was in which I thought myself,
And you that hail'd me now then hail'd me King,
In a brave palace that was all my own,
Within, and all without it, mine ; until,
Drunk with excess of majesty and pride,
Methought I tower'd so high and swell'd so wide.
That of myself I burst the glittering bubble.
That my ambition had about me blown,
And all again was darkness. Such a dream
As this in which I may be walking now
Dispensing solemn justice to you shadows,
Who make beheve to listen; but anon,
With all your glittering arms and equipage,
King, princes, captains, warriors, plume and steel.
Ay, ev'n with all your airy theatre.
May flit into the air you seem to rend
With acclamation, leaving me to wake
In the dark tower; or dreaming that I wake
From this that waking is ; or this and that
Both waking or both dreaming ; such a doubt
Confounds and clouds our mortal life about.
And, whether wake or dreaming ; this I know,
How dream-wise human glories come and go
Whose momentary tenure not to break,
Walking as one who knows he soon may wake
So fairly carry the full cup, so well
Disorder'd insolence and passion quell,