[_The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of_ ARTEMIS.
HIPPOLYTUS _now advances from them, and approaches the Statue
with a wreath in his hand._]

HIPPOLYTUS
To thee this wreathed garland, from a green
And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen,
Where never shepherd leads his grazing ewes
Nor scythe has touched. Only the river dews
Gleam, and the spring bee sings, and in the glade
Hath Solitude her mystic garden made.
No evil hand may cull it: only he
Whose heart hath known the heart of Purity,
Unlearned of man, and true whate'er befall.
Take therefore from pure hands this coronal,
O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine.
For, sole of living men, this grace is mine,
To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies
Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes.
Oh, keep me to the end in this same road!
[_An_ OLD HUNTSMAN, _who has stood apart from
the rest, here comes up to_ HIPPOLYTUS.]

HUNTSMAN
My Prince--for "Master" name I none but God--
Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?

HIPPOLYTUS
Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.