STRO. ANTIS. Is wanting; if I find not her that bore me, CHORUS. Yes, sisters, yes, the streaming eye, Our queen her royal lord shall find, What means this voice divine, Whence is this youth, so fondly grac'd, Lurking beneath close fraud I see : Where will this end? I fear, I fear 'Tis strange, and strange events must hence ensue : But grateful sounds it to his ear, The youth, that in another's state (Who sees not that my words are true?) Form'd her his joys, his griefs to share, But joys are his alone; Whilst she, poor mourner, with a weight of woes, He the bright smile of prosp'rous fortune knows. Him may mischance and ruin seize, Who round my lov'd queen spreads his wily trains: No favouring flame to him ascend! To her my faith, my zeal remains, Where to the skies Parnassus lifts his head, A cavern wild and wide: Where Bacchus, shaking high his midnight flames, In many a light fantastic round And revels with his frentic dames. This youth; no, rather let him die, And sink into an early tomb! With an indignant eye Athens would view the stranger's pride Within her gates triumphant ride; Enough for her the honour'd race that springs From old Erectheus and her line of kings. CREUSA, TUTOR, CHORUS. CREU. Thou venerable man, whose guiding voice TUT. CREU. Follow; be heedful where thou set thy steps. Faithful attendants, say, respecting children CREU. CHOR. To thy speech this is a proem Not tuned to happiness. Unhappy fortune! But why distress me for the oracle Giv'n to our lords! Be that as fate requires. In things, which threaten death, what shall we do? CREU. What means this strain of woe? Whence are these fears? CHOR. What, shall we speak, or bury this in silence? CREU. Speak, though thy words bring wretchedness to me. CHOR. It shall be spoken, were I twice to die. TUT. To thee, my queen, it is not giv'n to clasp O my child, would I were dead! TUT. This is ruin to us. CREU. Unhappy me! this is a piercing grief, Await our lord, partaker of thy griefs, Or thou alone art thus unfortunate. CHOR. To him, old man, the god hath giv❜n a son, CREU. To ill this adds the deepest ill, a grief TUT. CHOR. Born of some other woman One advanc'd To manhood's prime he gave him: I was present. CREU. What hast thou said? Thy words denounce to me Sorrows past speech, past utterance. TUT. VOL. I. N And to me. CREU. How was this oracle accomplish'd? tell me With clearest circumstance: who is this youth? CHOR. Him as a son Apollo gave, whom first Departing from the god thy lord should meet. CREU. O my unhappy fate! I then am left Childless to pass my life, childless, alone, Amidst my lonely house. Who was declared? Whom did the husband of this wretch first meet? How meet him? Where behold him? Tell me all. CHOR. Dost thou, my honour'd mistress, call to mind The youth that swept the temple? This is he. CREU. O, through the liquid air that I could fly TUT. Far, from the land of Greece, e'en to the stars Say by what name TUT. CHOR. That I could not learn: With his new son to share the common banquet. TUT. Lady, we by thy husband are betray'd, For I with thee am griev'd, with contrived fraud |