Epistulae

For, when this fury abates, I am informed of all; and silent feel that conscious love rages in my breast. Perhaps, I am urged to this love by the fate of my blood, and Venus exacts this tribute of all our race. Jupiter loved Europa (hence the first rise of our family) disguising the god under the form of a bull. Pasiphae my mother, enjoyed by a deluded bull, was in time delivered of her guilty load. Perfidious Theseus, guided by the faithful thread, escaped by my sister's help the deluding labyrinth. Lo, I too, that I might not belie the race of Minos, yield the last to the powerful laws of my blood. Surely it was our destiny; one house gained the inclinations of both. I am charmed with your shape and appearance; my sister yielded to the attractions of your father. Theseus and his son have triumphed over two sister nymphs. Raise trophies of your victory over our race. Oh how I wish that I had been wandering in the fields of Crete, when first I saw you enter Eleusis, the city of Ceres! It was then chiefly (yet even before that time you had charmed me), that the penetrating flame of love raged in my bones. White was your robe; your hair was adorned

with a garland; a modest blush had overspread your comely face. That countenance which appears, to others, stern and fierce, was in Phædra's eyes noble and full of manly courage. I hate youths fond of dress and a female nicety: a manly form requires little fashioning. That sternness, those careless locks, and noble face stained with dust, are becoming. Whether you bend in the fiery steed's reluctant neck, I am delighted to see him wheeling in the narrow ring; or if with vigorous arm you dart the heavy spear, still my eyes watch the manly throw. Or do you brandish the hunting-spear of broad-pointed steel? In fine, every thing you do gives me delight. Leave your cruelty to the woods and mountains; nor let me, undeserving of such a fate, perish for your sake. What pleasure can it give to be wholly taken up in the exercises of Diana, and deny Venus the vows and engagements due to her? What admits no interval of rest cannot subsist long. Rest renews our strength, and refreshes our wearied limbs. The bow (and surely the arms of your favorite goddess may furnish an example for your imitation), if always bent, will lose its force. Cephalus was famed in the woods; by his hand were many wild beasts slain; yet he was no enemy to the delights of love. Aurora wisely forsook old age for him. Oft, under a spreading oak, were Venus and Adonis seated on the yielding grass. Meleager too burned for Areadian Atalanta: she, as a pledge of his love, enjoyed the spoils of the Calydonian boar. Let us also be now first joined to this glorious crowd. If you banish love, the forest will be turned into a desert.

I will be the partner of your toils: neither the rocks hideous with dens and caves, nor the fierce aspect of the threatening boar, shall terrify me. There is an isthmus seated between two seas; the rising billows beat against either shore. Here will I meet thee at Trœzen, once the kingdom of Pittheus: already it is dearer far than my native country. The hero of Neptune's race is happily absent, and will be so long: he is now in the country of his dear Pirithous. Theseus (unless we dispute what is manifest) prefers Pirithous, both to his Phædra and to thee: nor is this the only injury he has offered us; for we have both been wronged in matters of great importance. The bones of my brother, broken with a knotted club, he scattered on the bloody ground: my sister was left a prey to wild beasts. You boast of a mother worthy of the bravery of her son, of distinguished valor among the Amazonian maids. If you enquire after her, Theseus inhumanly stabbed her; nor could so great a pledge protect the unhappy mother. Nor was she wedded, nor received with the nuptial torch. Why all this, but to exclude you from your father's throne? He has added, moreover, brothers to you by me, who have been bred up by his command rather than

mine. I could wish, loveliest of men, that the child who may stand in competition with you, had died in the birth. What reverence, after all this, can be due to your father's bed, which he even shuns himself, and has deserted? Nor let vain fears alarm you, that the commerce, between a son and mother-in-law, is infamous. This old-fashioned piety, which could not subsist long, suited only the rustic age of Saturn. Jupiter has made pleasure the test of piety, and has given us an example in espousing his own sister. That tie of blood is firmest, which is strengthened by the bonds of Venus. It will be an easy matter to conceal it: the name of relative will justify our freedoms. Whoever sees our mutual embraces will praise us; I shall be thought a stepmother, tender of my husband's son.

No stubborn gates are to be forced open in the night; no watchful keeper to be deceived. One house served us both; one house will still serve us. You caressed me openly, and my do so still. Here you will be in safety; and our freedoms, far from exposing us to blame, will gain us praise. Only banish delay, and hasten to consummate our mutual loves; so may the tyrant that rages in my breast, prove gentle to you. I condescend to address you by prayers and entreaties; where is now my pride? where are my wonted boasts? I had resolved to hold out long, and not easily yield to a crime, if love were capable of any steady resolution. But, subdued by its power, I turn to prayers, and with my royal hands clasp your knees. Lovers, alas! are seldom awed by a sense of decency: shame and modesty have fled. Think favorably of my fond confession, and pity my sufferings. What though my father holds the empire of the seas, and my great grandsire darts the rapid thunder? What though my grandfather, crowned with pointed rays, guides the resplendent chariot of the day? Nobility gives place to love. Have some regard, however, for my race; and, if you undervalue me, yet shew respect to mine. The famous island of Crete falls by inheritance to me: here shall my Hippolytus reign supreme. Conquer that stubborn soul.

My mother could even inspire a bull with love; and will you be more cruel than a fierce bull? Hear, then, for Venus' sake, who is all-powerful with me; so may you never love a scornful fair. So may swift Diana still attend you in the remote forests, and the woods offer you the best game. So may the Satyrs and mountain Gods protect you, and the boar fall, pierced by your quivering spear. So may the kind Nymphs (though you are said to hate the softer sex) allay with grateful streams your burning thirst. Many tears accompany these prayers; think, while you read over the words of your Phædra, that you see also the tears streaming from her eyes.

MAY I hope that you will read this? Or, over-awed by your new bride, must you treat it with neglect? Read it over, I entreat you: it is no threatening letter sent you from Mycenæ. I, the Nymph Œnone, famous in the Phrygian woods, complain of injuries received from you, whom I am still fond to call mine, if you permit. What God opposes himself to my wishes? What crime have I committed, that I no longer possess your love? Where we suffer deservedly, we ought to bear it with patience; but unmerited calamities sit heavy upon us. You were yet in low circumstances, when I, a Nymph sprung from a mighty river, was contented to receive you for my husband. Thought now the

son of Priam, (excuse my freedom,) you were then no more than a slave: nor did I disdain to wed you even in that meanest rank. Oft under the shade of a tree, have we quietly rested amidst the flocks, where the ground, strewn with leaves, afforded a pleasant couch. Oft in our Iowly cottage, secure from hail and freezing winds, have we contentedly reposed on straw or a bed of hay. Who shewed you the forests best stocked with game, or pointed out the rocky caverns where the savage dam concealed her young? A constant companion of your toils, I often spread the knotted net, and cheered your sweeping hounds along the mountain's brow. The beeches still preserve my name carved by your hand; and 'Œnone,' the work of your pruning-knife, is read upon their bark; and, as the trunks increase, the letters still dilate. Grow on, and rise as testimonies of my just claim. There grows a poplar (I remember it) by the river's side, on which is carved the motto of our love. Flourish. thou poplar, fed by the bordering stream, whose furrowed bark bears this inscription: Sooner shall Xanthus hasten back to his source, than Paris be able to live without his Œnone. Xanthus,

flow backward; backward flow, ye streams! Paris still lives, though faithless to his Œnone. My misfortunes began from that unhappy day, in which Venus, Juno, and Minerva (most graceful when clad in shining armor) appointed you judge of the prize of beauty. It was then that a black storm overcast my former peace. My heart failed while you repeated the fatal tale, and a cold trembling shot through all my bones. I acquainted the aged matrons and sages with my just fears; and they all agreed that some misfortune was approaching. Trees are cut down, ships are built; and the sea-green waves bear up your well-appointed fleet. When about to depart, you melted into tears; this at least you need not be ashamed to own; the present love is far more guilty than the past. You wept, and witnessed my melting grief; the mingled tears spoke our

mutual sadness. You clasped your arms round my neck, more closely than the curling vines embrace the towering elm. How did your companions smile, when you complained of the unfriendly winds! They favored; but love detained you. How often at parting did you repeat the ardent kisses; while your tongue was scarcely able to utter a last farewell!

A propitious gale swells your sails bellying from the rigid masts; and the sea foams after the repeated strokes of the oars. Hapless, I pursue with my eyes the lessening canvass, and water the sands with my tears. I implore the Nereids for your speedy return; a speedy return indeed to my sorrow. Have then my prayers brought you back only for the sake of another, and have I solicited the Gods in behalf of an injurious harlot? A high rock formed by nature overlooks the boundless sea. This precipice opposes itself to the beating waves. Hence I first espied your swelling sails, and hardly could forbear plunging into the deep. As I waited with impatience for your arrival, I discerned upon the deck a purple garment; this made me tremble, as I well knew that it was not your dress. The ship approached, and, urged by a favorable gale, reached the land; when with a throbbing heart I espied my hated rival, whose head even (why delayed I to leap into the sea?) rested upon your bosom. At this I tore my hair and beat my breast, and, urged by despair, scratched my face with my inhuman nails. Ida's sacred groves resounded with my mournful complaints; and hence I bore them to those caves which were conscious of our former love. So may Helen also complain, and mourn like me a faithless spouse; may she too taste of those sorrows, which on her account I now so severely feel. You are at present charmed with one who forsakes her lawful husband, and follows you over the wide sea. But when, a poor shepherd, you attended your little flock, Œnone alone made you an offer of her bed. I have no eye to your riches, nor am I moved by your stately palace. I have no ambition to be numbered among the daughters of potent Priam. Yet Priam needs not to be ashamed of owning himself the father-in-law of a Nymph; nor needs Hecuba disscmble that I am

her daughter. I merit, and wish to become the consort of a powerful prince; nor would a regal sceptre ill become my hands. It is no dishonor to have lain with you upon the new-fallen leaves; I am the more fit to ascend a bed of state. Add that you are safe in my love; no wars threaten you; no revengeful ships plough the waves. Fugitive Helen is demanded back by hostile arms, and sees with pride that a war must be her dowry. Ask of Hector your brother, Polydamas, or Deiphobus, whether she ought to be restored. Consult with sage Antenor, and your aged sire Priam, whom years and long experience have taught wisdom. It is scandalous to prefer a mistress to your native country. You engage in a shameful cause: her husband raises a just war against you. Nor flatter yourself that this Lacedæmonian will long prove constant, she who was so easily enticed to your embraces. As young Atrides complains of his dishonored bed, and mourns the injury done to him by a foreign love; so shall you lament in your turn. Chastity, when once sullied, can never be recovered; one false step ruins it for ever.

She now burns for you. Thus she once loved Menelaus. He, too easy of belief, lies now in a forlorn bed. Happy Andromache, the worthy consort of a faithful spouse! My fidelity merited a like return from you. You are lighter than withered leaves driven by the inconstant winds, or than stalks of wheat parched by the continual heat of the sun. Heretofore your sister (now I recollect) forewarned me of all, and, with her hair disheveled, thus prophesied my approaching fate: What is it you hope for, Œnone? Why bury you thus your seed in the sand? Why plough you up the shore with unprofitable steers? The Grecian heifer comes, fatal to you, to Troy, and our ancient house. She comes. Forbid it Heaven; and now, while it may be done, overwhelm the guilty ship. Alas! how is she fraught with Phrygian blood! She said: her servants carried her off full of the God. My