[HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in
the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]

HUNTSMAN (_approaching the Statue and kneeling_)
O Cyprian--for a young man in his pride
I will not follow!--here before thee, meek,
In that one language that a slave may speak,
I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in froth
Of youth surges against thee, be not wroth
For ever! Nay, be far and hear not then:
Gods should be gentler and more wise than men!
[_He rises and follows the others into the Castle_.]

_The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and
left several Trosenian women young and old. Their number eventually
amounts to fifteen._

CHORUS
There riseth a rock-born river,
Of Ocean's tribe, men say;
The crags of it gleam and quiver,
And pitchers dip in the spray:
A woman was there with raiment white
To bathe and spread in the warm sunlight,
And she told a tale to me there by the river
The tale of the Queen and her evil day:

How, ailing beyond allayment,
Within she hath bowed her head,
And with shadow of silken raiment