Long have I held this sentiment: the just
Are born the streams of bounty to diffuse
On all around them; while the man whose soul
Is warped by interest, useless in the State,
Untractable and harsh to every friend,
Lives only for himself; in words alone
This doctrine I imbibed not. Through a sense
Of virtuous shame and reverence for my kindred
When I in peace at Argos might have dwelt,
I singly shared the toils of Hercules,
While he on earth remained; but now he dwells
In heaven, I guard his children, though protection
Be what I need myself. For when their sire
Forsook this nether world, Eurystheus strove
Immediately to slay us; but I ’scaped
From that oppressor’s fangs, and though to me
Lost is my country, I have saved my life.
But we poor vagabonds, from city fly
To some fresh city, ever forced to change
Our dwelling; for Eurystheus deems it meet
To add this wrong to former wrongs, he sends
His heralds wheresoe’er he hears we settle,
And claims and drives us forth from every land;
No slight resentment from the Argive realm
Against our friends denouncing, he reminds them
Of his own prosperous fortunes; when they see
My weakness, and these little ones bereft
Of their great father, to superior might
They crouch, and force the suppliant to depart.
But with the exiled race of Hercules
A voluntary exile, I partake
Their evil fortunes, steadfastly resolved
Not to betray them; by malignant tongues
It never shall be said, “Oh, mark these orphans!
Since their sire’s death their kinsman Iolaus
Protects them not.” But, exiled from all Greece,
On reaching Marathon and the domain
Subject to the same rulers, here we sit
Before the altars of the gods, and sue
For their assistance. In this region dwell
Two sons of Theseus, I am told, by lot
Who portion out this realm, they from Pandion
Descend, and to these children are allied.
We therefore undertook our present journey
To the Athenian realm; two aged guides
Conduct the hapless wanderers; my attention
Is to the boys devoted; but Alcmena,
Entering the adjacent temple, in her arms
Tenderly clasps the female progeny
Of her departed son. Amid the crowd
We fear to introduce these tender virgins,
Or place them at the altars of the gods.
But Hyllus and his brothers, more mature
In years, inquire in what far distant land
A fortress for our future residence
We yet can find, if we from these domains
By force should be expelled. My sons, come hither,
Cling to this garment; for to us I see
Eurystheus’ herald coming, by whose hate,
We wanderers, banished from each friendly realm,
Are still pursued. Thou, execrable miscreant,
Perish thyself, and perish he who sent thee:
For to the noble father of these children
Oft hath that tongue enjoined severest toils.