Phaedra: Lest thou shouldst breathe a word of this to Theseus' son.
Nurse: Peace, my child! I will do all things well; only be thou, queen
Cypris, ocean's child, my partner in the work! And for the rest of
my purpose, it will be enough for me to tell it to our friends within
the house. (The Nurse goes into the palace.)
Chorus: (singing, strophe 1)
O Love, Love, that from the eyes diffusest soft desire, bringing
on the souls of those, whom thou dost camp against, sweet grace, O
never in evil mood appear to me, nor out of time and tune approach!
Nor fire nor meteor hurls a mightier bolt than Aphrodite's shaft shot
by the hands of Love, the child of Zeus.
(antistrophe 1)
Idly, idly by the streams of Alpheus and in the Pythian shrines of
Phoebus, Hellas heaps the slaughtered steers; while Love we worship
not, Love, the king of men, who holds the key to Aphrodite's sweetest
bower,-worship not him who, when he comes, lays waste and marks his
path to mortal hearts by wide-spread woe.
Studies
