HIP P OLYTU S
nor the jointed car. As often as he would turn them 1225
with guiding hand to the soft sand of the shore,
the bull appeared in front to head them off,
maddening the team with terror.
But when in frenzy they charged toward the cliffs, 1230
the bull came galloping beside the rail,
silently following until he brought disaster,
capsizing the car, striking the wheel on a rock.
Then all was in confusion. Axles of wheels,
and lynch-pins flew up into the air, 1235
and he the unlucky driver, tangled in the reins,
was dragged along in an inextricable
knot, and his dear head pounded on the rocks,
his body bruised. He cried aloud and terrible
his voice rang in our ears: Stand, horses, stand! 1240
You were fed in my stables. Do not kill me I
My father's curse! His curse! Will none of you
save me? I am innocent. Save me!
Many of us had will enough, but all
were left behind in the race. Getting free of the reins,
somehow he fell. There was still life in him. 1245
But the horses vanished and that ill-omened monster,
somewhere, I know not where, in the rough cliffs.
I am only a slave in your household, King Theseus,
but I shall never be able to believe 1250
that your son was guilty, not though the tribe of women
were hanged for it, not though the weight of tablets
of a high pine of Ida, filled with writing,
accused him—for I know that he was good.
Chorus Leader
It has been fulfilled, this bitter, new disaster, 1255
for what is doomed and fated there is no quittance.
Theseus
For hatred of the sufferer I was glad
231