No More Learning

In
truth I snatched thee from the midst of the whirlpool of death, preferring
to suffer the loss of a brother rather than fail thy need in the supreme
hour, O ingrate. For the which I shall be a gift as prey to be rent by wild
beasts and the carrion-fowl, nor dead shall I be placed in the earth,
covered with funeral mound. What lioness bare thee 'neath lonely crag? What
sea conceived and spued thee from its foamy crest? What Syrtis, what
grasping Scylla, what vast Charybdis? O thou repayer with such guerdon for
thy sweet life! If 'twas not thy heart's wish to yoke with me, through
holding in horror the dread decrees of my stern sire, yet thou couldst have
led me to thy home, where as thine handmaid I might have served thee with
cheerful service, laving thy snowy feet with clear water, or spreading the
purple coverlet o'er thy couch. Yet why, distraught with woe, do I vainly
lament to the unknowing winds, which unfurnished with sense, can neither
hear uttered complaints nor can return them? For now he has sped away into
the midst of the seas, nor doth any mortal appear along this desolate
seaboard. Thus with o'erweening scorn doth bitter Fate in my extreme hour
even grudge ears to my plaints. All-powerful Jupiter! would that in old
time the Cecropian poops had not touched at the Gnossian shores, nor that
bearing to the unquelled bull the direful ransom had the false mariner
moored his hawser to Crete, nor that yon wretch hiding ruthless designs
beneath sweet seemings had reposed as a guest in our halls! For whither may
I flee? in what hope, O lost one, take refuge? Shall I climb the Idomenean
crags?
but the truculent sea stretching amain with its whirlings of waters
separates us. Can I quest help from my father, whom I deserted to follow a
youth besprinkled with my brother's blood? Can I crave comfort from the
care of a faithful yokeman, who is fleeing with yielding oars, encurving
'midst whirling waters. If I turn from the beach there is no roof in this
tenantless island, no way sheweth a passage, circled by waves of the sea;
no way of flight, no hope; all denotes dumbness, desolation, and death.
Natheless mine eyes shall not be dimmed in death, nor my senses secede from
my spent frame, until I have besought from the gods a meet mulct for my
betrayal, and implored the faith of the celestials with my latest breath.
Wherefore ye requiters of men's deeds with avenging pains, O Eumenides,
whose front enwreathed with serpent-locks blazons the wrath exhaled from
your bosom, hither, hither haste, hear ye my plainings, which I, sad
wretch, am urged to outpour from mine innermost marrow, helpless, burning,
and blind with frenzied fury. And since in truth they spring from the
veriest depths of my heart, be ye unwilling to allow my agony to pass
unheeded, but with such mind as Theseus forsook me, with like mind, O
goddesses, may he bring evil on himself and on his kin. "

After she had poured forth these words from her grief-laden bosom,
distractedly clamouring for requital against his heartless deeds, the
celestial ruler assented with almighty nod, at whose motion the earth and
the awe-full waters quaked, and the world of glittering stars did quiver.
But Theseus, self-blinded with mental mist, let slip from forgetful breast
all those injunctions which until then he had held firmly in mind, nor bore
aloft sweet signals to his sad sire, shewing himself safe when in sight of
Erectheus' haven. For 'tis said that aforetime, when Aegeus entrusted his
son to the winds, on leaving the walls of the chaste goddess's city, these
commands he gave to the youth with his parting embrace.

"O mine only son, far dearer to me than long life, lately restored to me at
extreme end of my years, O son whom I must perforce dismiss to a doubtful
hazard, since my ill fate and thine ardent valour snatch thee from
unwilling me, whose dim eyes are not yet sated with my son's dear form: nor
gladly and with joyous breast do I send thee, nor will I suffer thee to
bear signs of helpful fortune, but first from my breast many a plaint will
I express, sullying my grey hairs with dust and ashes, and then will I hang
dusky sails to the swaying mast, so that our sorrow and burning lowe are
shewn by Iberian canvas, rustily darkened. Yet if the dweller on holy
Itone, who deigns defend our race and Erectheus' dwellings, grant thee to
besprinkle thy right hand in the bull's blood, then see that in very truth
these commandments deep-stored in thine heart's memory do flourish, nor any
time deface them. Instant thine eyes shall see our cliffs, lower their
gloomy clothing from every yard, and let the twisted cordage bear aloft
snowy sails, where splendent shall shine bright topmast spars, so that,
instant discerned, I may know with gladness and lightness of heart that in
prosperous hour thou art returned to my face. "

These charges, at first held in constant mind, from Theseus slipped away as
clouds are impelled by the breath of the winds from the ethereal peak of a
snow-clad mount. But his father as he betook himself to the castle's
turrets as watchplace, dimming his anxious eyes with continual weeping,
when first he spied the discoloured canvas, flung himself headlong from the
top of the crags, deeming Theseus lost by harsh fate. Thus as he entered
the grief-stricken house, his paternal roof, Theseus savage with slaughter
met with like grief as that which with unmemoried mind he had dealt to
Minos' daughter: while she with grieving gaze at his disappearing keel,
turned over a tumult of cares in her wounded spirit.