Hecuba. Orestes. Phoenician damsels. Medea. Hippolytus. Alcestis. Andromache

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J. Walker, 1809

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Page 262 - O! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
Page 151 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowne'd honour by the locks...
Page 244 - NURSE. — Why should the sons — ah, wretched me ! — partake Their father's guilt ? Why hat'st thou them ? Ah me ! How greatly, O ye children, do I fear Lest mischief should befall you : for the souls Of kings are prone to cruelty, so seldom Subdued, and over others wont to rule, That it is difficult for such to change Their angry purpose. Happier I esteem The lot of those who still are wont to live Among their equals. May I thus grow old, If not in...
Page 248 - ... as for her who comes Where usages and edicts, which at home She learnt not, are established, she the gift Of divination needs to teach her how A husband must be chosen: if aright These duties we perform, and he the yoke Of wedlock with complacency sustains, Ours is a happy life; but if we fail In this great object, better 'twere to die. For, when afflicted by domestic ills, A man goes forth, his choler to appease, And to some friend or comrade can reveal What he endures ; but we to him alone...
Page 257 - Not now for the first time, but oft, full oft Have I observed that anger is a pest The most unruly. For when in this land, These mansions, you in peace might have abode, By patiently submitting to the will Of your superiors, you, for empty words, Are doomed to exile. Not that I regard Your calling...
Page 244 - Tis as I said : strong agitations seize Your mother's heart, her choler's raised. Dear children, Beneath these roofs hie instantly, nor come Into her sight, accost her not, beware Of these ferocious manners and the rage Which boils in that ungovernable spirit. Go with the utmost speed, for I perceive Too clearly that her plaints, which in thick clouds Arise at first, will kindle ere 'tis long With tenfold violence. What deeds of horror From that high-soaring, that remorseless soul, May we expect,...
Page 283 - ... wretched house, I, from this land, yet reeking with the gore Of my dear sons, will fly, and having dared A deed most impious. For the scornful taunts Of those we hate are not to be endured, Happen what may. Can life be any gain To me who have no country left, no home, No place of refuge? Greatly did I err When I forsook the mansions of my sire, Persuaded by the flattery of that Greek Whom I will punish, if just Heaven permit. For he shall not again behold the children I bore him while yet living....
Page 305 - MEDEA. With levers wherefore dost thou shake those doors In quest of them who are no more, and me Who dared to perpetrate the bloody deed? Desist from such unprofitable toil : But if there yet be aught that thou with me Canst want, speak freely whatsoe'er thou wilt : For with that hand me never shalt thou reach, Such steeds the sun my grandsire gives to whirl This chariot and protect me from my foes.
Page 243 - Who is not treacherous? Hast thou lived so long Without discerning how self-love prevails O'er social? Some by glory, some by gain, Are prompted. Then what wonder, for the sake Of a new consort, if the father slight These children? NURSE. Go, all will be well, go in. Keep them as far as possible away, Nor suffer them to come into the presence Of their afflicted mother; for her eyes Have I just seen with wild distraction fired, As if some horrid purpose against them She meant to execute ; her wrath...
Page 240 - And since she marked the treachery of her lord Melts into tears incessant, from the ground Her eyes she never raises, never turns Her face aside, but steadfast as a rock, Or as the ocean's rising billows, hears The counsels of her friends, save when she weeps In silent anguish, with her snowy neck Averted, for her sire, her native land, And home, which she forsaking hither came With him who scorns her now. She from her woes Too late hath learnt how enviable the lot Of those who leave not their paternal...

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