OVID.

Ceyx received them both with great favour, but Hercules could not forget

that he had been refused the hand of Iole, although in possession of the

heart of Dejanira, and therefore made war against her father, killing him,

with three of his sons, while his former lover, Iole, fell into his hands,

and found that she still held no slight possession of his affections.

She accompanied him to Oeta, where he was going to raise an altar, and

offer a sacrifice to Jupiter. Dejanira, aware of his purpose, and of the

affection he had manifested for her rival, sent to him the tunic given her

by the Centaur, Nessus, but no sooner had he put it on, than the poison

with which it was saturated, penetrated through his bones, and attaching

itself to the flesh, eat into it like fire.

"She now resolves to send the fatal vest,

Dyed with Lernaean gore, whose power might move

His soul anew, and rouse declining love,

Nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows,

When she to Lychas trusts her future woes;

With soft endearment she the boy commands,

To bear the garment to her husband's hands.

Th' unwilling hero takes the gift in haste,

And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poison cast,

At first the fire with frankincense he strews,

And utters to the gods his holy vows;

And on the marble altar's polished frame

Pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame

Sudden dissolves the subtle poisoning juice

Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews.

{186}

With wonted fortitude he bore the smart,

And not a groan confessed his burning heart,

At length his patience was subdued by pain

Oetes wide forests echo with his cries;

Now to rip off the deathful robe he tries.

Where'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears

The mangled muscles and huge bones he bares.

(A ghastly sight!) or raging with his pain,

To rend the sick'ning plague, he tugs in vain.

As the red iron hisses in the flood,

So boils the venom in his curdling blood.

Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow,

And livid sweats down all his body flow.

The cracking nerves, burnt up, are burst in twain,

The lurking venom melts his swimming brain."

Heathen mythology, Illustrated by extracts from the most celebrated writers, both ancient and modern · 第 252 / 388 题