Dirce

But he came, he came with a song in the night, With fire, with blood, and she strove in flight, A torrent spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's might.

Alas, thou bride of disaster! O mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall That Dirce's wails run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall, Ye saw the heavens around her flare When she lulled to her sleep that mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there, The bride of the bladed thunder; For her breath is on all that hath life, And she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder.

During the last lines, Phaedra has approached the door and is listening

Silence, ye women.