Racine: Phaedra

PH/EDRA 373
He opes his dying eyes, soon closed again.
" The gods have robb'd me of a guiltless life," _
" Take care of sad Aricia
I hear him say :
When I am dead. Dear friend, if e'er my father
Mourn, undeceived, his son's unhappy fate
Falsely accused ; to give my spirit peace.
Tell him to treat his captive tenderly,
And to restore — " With that the hero's breath
Fails, and a mangled corpse lies in my arms,
A piteous object, trophy of the wrath
Of Heav'n—so changed, his father would not know him.
Theseus.—Alas, my son ! Dear hope forever lost
The ruthless gods have served me but too well.
For what a life of anguish and remorse
Am I reserved
Theramenes.—Aricia at that instant,
Flying from you, comes timidly, to take him
For husband, there, in presence of the gods.
Thus drawing nigh, she sees the grass all red
And reeking, sees (sad sight for lover's eyes!)
Hippolytus stretch'd there, pale and disfigured.
But, for a time doubtful of her misfortune.
Unrecognized the hero she adores,
She looks, and asks — "Where is Hippolytus?"
Only too sure at last that he lies there
Before her, with sad eyes that silently
Reproach the gods, she shudders, groans, and falls,
Swooning and all but lifeless, at his feet.
Ismene, all in tears, kneels down beside her.
And calls her back to life—life that is nought
But sense of pain. And I, to whom this light
Is darkness now, come to discharge the duty
The hero has imposed on me, to tell thee
His last request—a melancholy task.
But hither comes his mortal enemy.