Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/192

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This crime from him: what of thy mother's sire,
Who floods the earth with his illuming rays? 155
And what of him who makes the earth to quake,
The bolts of Aetna flashing in his band,
The father of the gods? And dost thou think
That it can lie that thou couldst hide thy sin
From these thy grandsires, all-beholding ones?
But even should the favor of the gods,
Complaisant, hide thy shame from all the world; 160
Though to thy lust alone should fall that grace
Denied to other crimes: still must thou fear.
What of that ever-present punishment,
The terror of the soul that knows its guilt,
Is stained with crime and fearful of itself?
Some women have with safety sinned, but none
With peace of soul. Then quench these flames, I pray, 165
Of impious love, and shun this monstrous crime
Which no barbaric land has ever done,
No Getan wandering on his lonely plains,
No savage Taurian, no Scythian.
Expel from thy chaste soul this hideous thing,
And, mindful of thy mother's sin, avoid 170
Such monstrous unions. Wouldst in marriage give
Thyself to son and father? Wouldst thou take
In thine incestuous womb a progeny
So basely mixed? Then go the length of sin:
O'erthrow all nature with thy shameful fires.
Why should the monsters cease? Why empty stands
Thy brother's labyrinth? Shall all the world 175
Be shocked with prodigies, shall nature's laws
Be scorned, whene'er a Cretan woman loves?
Phaedra: I know that what thou say'st is true, dear nurse;
But raging passion forces me to take
The path of sin. Full consciously my soul
Goes headlong on its downward way, ofttimes
With backward glance, sane counsel seeking still,
Without avail. So, when the mariner 180
Would sail his ship against the boisterous waves,
His toil is all in vain, and, vanquished quite,