To force my passage to thy chariot now,
And tear the garland from thy perjur'd brow.
Offended father, now thy griefs discharge!
My brother's blood is now reveng'd at large.
The man, for whom I fled and injur'd thee'
Whose love sole comfort of my flight could be,
Th' ungrateful man has now forsaken me!
I tam'd the bulls, and could the serpents bind, 130
But for perfidious love no spell can find:
The dragons balefui fires, my arts supprest,
But not the flames that rage within my breast.
In love my pow'rfull'st herbs are useless made,
In vain is Hecate summon'd to my aid;
I sigh the day, the night in watches spend,
No slumbers on my careful brows descend,
With poppies' juice in vain my eyes I steep,
And try the charm that made the dragon sleep.
I only reap no profit from my charms !
They sav'd, but sav'd thee for my rival's arms! There, 'cause you know the theme will grateful be, Perhaps you're so unjust t' exclaim on me!
To tax my manners, rally on my face,
And make th' adult'ress sport with my disgrace!165
Laugh on proud dame; but know thy fate is nigh,
When thou shalt yet more wretched be than I ;
When wrong'd Medea unreveng'd sits still,
Sword, flame, and poison, have forgot to kill.
If pray'rs the flinty Jason's breast can move, 170
My just complaint will sure successful prove.
Stretch'd at thy feet a suppliant princess see;
Such was thy posture when she pity'd thee.
And tho' a wife's discarded title fail,
My infants still are thine, let them prevail!
So much th'are thine so much thy likeness bear,
Each look I cast is follow'd by a tear.
Now by the gods, by all our past delights,
By those dear pledges of our am'rous nights,
Restore to me thy love; I claim my due;
Be to my merit, and thy promise true.
I ask thee not what I perform'd for thee,
To set me from fierce bulls and serpents free;
I only crave thy love, thy love restore,
For which I've done so much and suffer'd more. 185
Dost thou demand a dow'r ?—'twas paid that day
When thou didst bear the golden fleece away :
Thy life's a dow'r, and thy dear foll'wers health,
The youth of Greece; weigh these with Creon's
wealth.
To me thou ow'st that thou art Creon's heir, 190
That now thou liv'st to call Creüsa fair,
You've wrong'd me all, and on you all-but hold,
I form revenge too mighty to be told,
My thoughts are now to th' utmost ruin bent!
Perhaps I shall the fatal rage icpent.
-for I (whate’er the mischief be)
Shall less repent than that I trusted thee,
The god alone that rages in my breast,
Can see the dark revenge my thoughts suggest:
I only know 'twill soon effected be,
And when it comes, be vast and worthy me.
THESEUS, the son of Ageus, having slain the Minotaur, promised to Ariadne the daughter of Minos and Pasiphe, for the assistance which she gave, to carry her home with him, and make her his wife: So together with her sister Phædra they went on board and sailed to Chios, where being warned by Bacchus, he left Ariadne, and married her sister Phædra; who afterwards, in Theseus her husband's absence, fell in love with Hippolytus her son-in-law, who had vowed celibacy, and was a hunter: Wherefore since she could not conveniently otherwise, she chose by this epistle to give him an account of her passion.
If thou'rt unkind, I ne'er shall health enjoy;
Yet much I wish to thee, my lovely boy :
Read this, and reading how my soul is seiz'd,
Rather than not, be with my ruin pleas'd:
Thus secrets safe to farthest shores may move:
By letters foes converse, and learn to love.
Thrice my sad tale, as I to tell it try'd,
Upon my fait'ring tongue abortive dy'd.
Long, shame prevail'd, nor could be conquer'd quite,
But what I blush to speak, love made me write. 10
'Tis dang'rous to resist the pow'r of love,
The Gods obey him, and he's king above:
He clear'd the doubts that did my mind confound,
And promis'd me to bring thee hither bound:
Oh may he come, and in that breast of thine,
Fix a kind dart, and make it flame like mine!
Yet of my wedlock vows I'll lose no care:
Search back thro' all my fame, thou'lt find it fair.
But love long breeding, to worst pains does turn;
Outward unharm'd, within, within I burn!
As the young bull or courser yet untam'd,
When yok'd or bridled first, are pinch'd and maim'd,
So my unpractis'd heart in love can find
No rest, th' unwonted weight so toils my mind.
When young, love's pang's by arts we may remove,
But in our riper years with rage we love.
To thee I yield then all my dear renown,
And prithee let's together be undone.
Who would not pluck the new-blown blushing rose,
Or the ripe fruit that courts him as it grows?
But if my virtue hitherto has gain'd
Esteem for spotless, shall it now be stain'd?
Oh in thy love I shall no hazard run;
'Tis not a sin, but when 'tis coarsely done.
And now should Juno yield her Jove to me,
I'd quit that Jove, Hippolytus, for thee:
Believe me too with strange desires I change,
Among wild beasts I long with thee to range.
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