HIPPOLYTUS
his fair young body and his golden head,
a battered wreck. O trouble of the house,
what double sorrow from the hand of God 1345
has been fulfilled for this our royal palace!
Hippolytas
A battered wreck of body! Unjust father,
and oracle unjust—this is your work.
Woe for my fate! . 1350
My head is filled with shooting agony,
and in my brain there is a leaping fire.
Let me be!
For I would rest my weary frame awhile.
Curse on my team! How often have I fed you 1355
from my own hand, you who have murdered me!
0,0!
In God's name touch my wounded body gently.
Who is this standing on the right of me? 1360
Come lift me carefully, bear me easily,
a man unlucky, cursed by my own father
in bitter error. Zeus, do you see this,
see me that worshipped God in piety, 1365
me that excelled all men in chastity,
see me now go to death which gapes before me;
all my life lost, and all for nothing now
labors of piety in the face of men?
O the pain, the pain that comes upon me! 1370
Let me be, let me be, you wretches!
May death the healer come for me at last!
You kill me ten times over with this pain.
O for a spear with a keen cutting edge 1375
to shear me apart—and give me my last sleep!
Father, your deadly curse!
This evil comes from some manslaying of old, 1380
some ancient tale of murder among my kin.
But why should it strike me, who am clear of guilt?
What is there to say? How can I shake from me 1385