Hippolytus/The Bacchae

There by the castle side
I see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,
The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great
Faint wreaths of fire undying—as the hate
Dies not, that Hera held for Semelê.

, changed in shape from God to man,
I walk again by Dirce's streams and scan
Ismenus' shore.

Of heaven's hot splendour lit to life,