_Deianira_ [_hurrying distractedly out of the palace_]: A nameless
terror fills my stricken limbs, 705
My hair stands up in horror, and my soul,
But now so passion tossed, is dumb with fear;
My heart beats wildly, and my liver throbs
With pulsing veins. As when the storm-tossed sea 710
Still heaves and swells, although the skies are clear
And winds have died away; so is my mind
Still tossed and restless, though my fear is stayed.
When once the fortunate begin to feel
The wrath of god, their sorrows never cease.
For so does fortune ever end in woe.
_Nurse:_ What new distress, poor soul, has come to thee? 715
_Deianira:_ But now, when I had sent away the robe
With Nessus' poisoned blood besmeared, and I,
With sad forebodings, to my chamber went,
Some nameless fear oppressed my anxious heart,
A fear of treachery. I thought to prove
The charm. Fierce Nessus, I bethought me then,
Had bidden me to keep the blood from flame; 720
And this advice itself foreboded fraud.
It chanced the sun was shining, bright and warm,
Undimmed by clouds. As I recall it now,
My fear scarce suffers me to tell the tale.[30]
Into the blazing radiance of the sun 725
I cast the blood-stained remnant of the cloth
With which the fatal garment had been smeared.
The thing writhed horribly, and burst aflame
As soon as Phoebus warmed it with his rays.
Oh, 'tis a dreadful portent that I tell!
As when the snows on Mimas' sparkling sides
Are melted by the genial breath of spring; 730
As on Leucadia's crags the heaving waves
Are dashed and break in foam upon the beach;
Or as the incense on the holy shrines
Is melted by the warming altar fires:
So did the woolen fragment melt away. 735
And while in wonder and amaze I looked,
The object of my wonder disappeared.
Nay, e'en the ground itself began to foam,
And what the poison touched to shrink away.
[Hyllus _is seen approaching_.]
But hither comes my son with face of fear, 740
And hurrying feet.
[_To_ Hyllus.]
What tidings dost thou bear?
_Hyllus:_ Oh, speed thee, mother, to whatever place
On land or sea, among the stars of heaven,
Or in the depths of hell, can keep thee safe
Beyond the deadly reach of Hercules.
_Deianira:_ Some great disaster doth my mind presage. 745
_Hyllus:_ Hie thee to Juno's shrine, the victor's realm;
This refuge waits thee 'midst the loss of all.
_Deianira:_ Tell what disaster hath o'erta'en me now.
_Hyllus:_ That glory and sole bulwark of the world,
Whom in the place of Jove the fates had given 750
To bless the earth, O mother, is no more.
A strange infection wastes Alcides' limbs;
And he who conquered every form of beast,
He, he, the victor is o'ercome with woe.
What wouldst thou further hear?
_Deianira:_ All wretched souls
Are e'er in haste to know their miseries.
Come, tell, what present fate o'erhangs our house? 755
O wretched, wretched house! Now, now indeed,
Am I a widow, exiled, fate-o'ercome.
_Hyllus:_ Not thou alone dost weep for Hercules;
For in his fall the universe laments.
Think not on private griefs; the human race
Lifts up the voice of mourning. All the world 760
Is grieving with the selfsame grief thou feel'st.
Thou shar'st thy misery with every land.
Thou hast, indeed, forestalled their grief, poor soul;
Thou first, but not alone, dost weep for him.
_Deianira:_ Yet tell me, tell, I pray, how near to death 765
Lies my Alcides now.
_Hyllus:_ Death flees his grasp,
Death whom he conquered once in its own realm;
Nor will the fates permit so great a crime.
Perchance dread Clotho from her trembling hand
Has thrown aside her distaff, and in fear
Refuses to complete Alcides' fate. 770
O day, O awful day! and must this be
The final day for mighty Hercules?
_Deianira:_ To death and the world of shades, to that dark realm,
Dost say that he has gone already? Why,
Oh, why may I not be the first to go?
But tell me truly, if he still doth live.
_Hyllus:_ Euboea stands with high uplifted head, 775
On every side lashed by the tossing waves.
Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea,
And here rough Auster blows. But on the side
Which feels the blast of snowy Aquilo,
Euripus restless leads his wandering waves;
Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high, 780
Seven times they sink again, before the sun
His weary horses plunges in the sea.
Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,
An ancient temple of Cenaean Jove
Gleams far and wide. When at the altars stood
The votive herd, and all the grove was full
Of hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls; 785
Then Hercules put off his lion's skin
With gore besmeared, his heavy club laid down,
And freed his shoulders of the quiver's weight.
Then, gleaming brightly in the robe thou gav'st,
His shaggy locks with hoary poplar wreathed,
He lit the altar fires, and prayed: "O Jove, 790
Not falsely called my father, take these gifts
And let the sacred fire blaze brightly up
With copious incense, which the Arab rich
From Saba's trees in worship of the sun
Collects. All monsters of the earth, the sea,
The sky have been subdued at last, and I,
As victor over all, am home returned. 795
Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then.
But even as he prayed a heavy groan
Fell from his lips, and he was horror struck
And mute awhile. And then with dreadful cries
He filled the air. As when a votive bull
Feels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax,
And flees away, retaining still the steel,
And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall; 800
Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky:
So did Alcides smite the very stars
And sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard,
The Cyclades re-echoed with the sound,
Caphereus' rocky crags and all the grove
Resounded with the groans of Hercules. 805
We saw him weep. The common people deemed
His former madness had come back to him.
His servants fled away in fear. But he,
With burning gaze, seeks one among them all,
Ill-fated Lichas, who, with trembling hands 810
Upon the altar, even then forestalled
Through deadly fear the bitter pangs of death,
And so left meager food for punishment.
Then did Alcides grasp the quivering corpse
And cried: "By such a hand as this, ye fates,
Shall it be said that I was overcome?
Has Lichas conquered Hercules? See then
Another slaughter: Hercules in turn 815
Slays Lichas. Be my noble deeds by this
Dishonored; let this be my crowning task."
He spake, and high in air the wretched boy
Was hurled, the very heavens with his gore
Besprinkling. So the Getan arrow flies,
Far leaping from the bowman's hand; so flies
The Cretan dart, but far within the mark. 820
His head against the jagged rocks is dashed,
His headless body falls into the sea,
Death[31] claiming both. "But hold," Alcides said,
"No madness steals my reason as of yore;
This is an evil greater far than rage
Of madness; 'gainst myself alone I turn." 825
He stays him not to tell his cause of woe,
But rages wildly, tearing at his flesh,
His huge limbs rending with his savage hands.
He strove to tear away the fatal robe;
But this alone of all his mighty deeds
Alcides could not do. Yet striving still
To tear the garment off, he tore the flesh.
The robe seemed part of that gigantic form, 830
Yea, part and parcel of the flesh itself.
The cause of this dire suffering is hid,
But yet there is a cause. His pain at length
Unable to endure, prone on the earth
He grovels; now for cooling water calls.
But water has no power to soothe his pain. 835
He seeks the shore and plunges in the sea,
The while his servant's hands direct his steps.
Oh, bitter lot, that mighty Hercules
Should come to be the mate of common men!
And now a vessel from Euboea's shore
Bears off the ponderous bulk of Hercules,
The gentle southwind wafting it along. 840
His spirit from his mighty frame has fled,
And o'er his eyes have fall'n the shades of night.
_Deianira:_ Why dost thou hesitate? why stand amazed,
O soul, that thus at last the deed is done?[32]
But Jove demands again his son of thee;
Juno, her rival; yea, to all the world
Must he be given back. Vain such appeal.
Make then what reparation[33] yet thou mayst:
Through this my guilty body let the sword 845
Be driven. Thus, thus, 'tis well that it be done.
But can this puny hand of mine atone
For crime so great? O sire of Hercules,
Destroy me with thy hurtling thunderbolt,
Thy guilty daughter. With no common dart
Arm thine avenging hand; but use that shaft
With which, had Hercules ne'er sprung from thee, 850
Thou wouldst have scorched the hydra. As a pest
Unprecedented smite me, as a scourge
Far worse to bear than any stepdame's wrath.
Such bolt as once at wandering Phaëthon
Thou hurledst, aim at me. For I myself
Have ruined all mankind in Hercules. 855
But why demand a weapon of the gods?
For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wife
Should pray for death. Let prayers give way to deeds,
And from myself let me demand my death.
Take then the sword in haste. But why the sword?
Whate'er can work my death is sword enough.
From some heaven-piercing cliff I'll cast me down. 860
Yea, let our neighboring Oeta be my choice,
Whose top is first to greet the newborn day.
From its high peak I'll hurl me down to death.
May I be rent asunder on its crags,
And every rock demand some part of me;
Let sharp projections pierce my mangled hands,
And all the rugged mountainside be red 865
With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true;
But still its agony can be prolonged.
O hesitating soul, thou canst not choose
What form of death to die. Oh, that the sword
Of Hercules within my chamber hung!
How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die!
But is't enough that by one hand I fall? 870
Assemble, all ye nations of the world,
And hurl upon me rocks and blazing brands;
Let no hand shirk its task of punishment,
For your avenger have I done to death.
Now with impunity shall cruel kings
Their scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise 875
With none to let; again shall shrines be sought,
Where worshiper and victim are alike
In human form. A broad highway for crime
Have I prepared; and, by removing him
Who was their bulwark, have exposed mankind
To every form of monstrous man and beast
And savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work, 880
O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not,
In imitation of thy brother, snatch
From his own hand the fiery thunderbolt,
And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lost
Great praise and mighty triumph by my act:
I have forestalled thee, Juno, in the death
Of this thy rival.
_Hyllus:_ Wouldst to ruin doom
Thy house already tottering? This crime,
Whate'er it is, is all from error sprung. 885
He is not guilty who unwitting sins.
_Deianira:_ Whoe'er ignores his fate and spares himself,
Deservedly has erred, deserves to die.
_Hyllus:_ He must be guilty who desires to die.
_Deianira:_ Death, only, makes the erring innocent. 890
_Hyllus:_ Fleeing the sun--
_Deianira:_ The sun himself flees me.
_Hyllus:_ Wouldst leave thy life?
_Deianira:_ A wretched life indeed;
I long to go where Hercules has gone.
_Hyllus:_ He still survives, and breathes the air of heaven.
_Deianira:_ Alcides died when first he was o'ercome.
_Hyllus:_ Wilt leave thy son behind? forestall thy fates? 895
_Deianira:_ She whom her own son buries has lived long.
_Hyllus:_ Follow thy husband.
_Deianira:_ Chaste wives go before.
_Hyllus:_ Who dooms himself to death confesses sin.
_Deianira:_ No sinner seeks to shirk his punishment.
_Hyllus:_ The life of many a man has been restored 900
Whose guilt in judgment not in action lay.
Who blames the lot by fate assigned to him?
_Deianira:_ He blames it to whom fate has been unkind.
_Hyllus:_ But Hercules himself killed Megara,
And by his raging hands with deadly darts 905
Transfixed his sons. Still, though a parricide,
Thrice guilty, he forgave himself the deed,
Blaming his madness. In Cinyphian waves
In Libya's land he washed his sin away,
And cleansed his hands. Then why, poor soul, shouldst thou
So hastily condemn thine own misdeeds?
_Deianira:_ The fact that I have ruined Hercules 910
Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.
_Hyllus:_ If I know Hercules, he soon will come
Victorious over all his deadly woe;
And agony, o'ercome, will yield to him.
_Deianira:_ The hydra's venom preys upon his frame;
A boundless pestilence consumes his limbs. 915
_Hyllus:_ Think'st thou the poison of that serpent, slain,
Cannot be overcome by that brave man
Who met the living foe and conquered it?
He slew the hydra, and victorious stood,
Though in his flesh the poisonous fangs were fixed,
And o'er his limbs the deadly venom flowed. 920
Shall he, who overcame dread Nessus' self,
By this same Nessus' blood be overcome?
_Deianira:_ 'Tis vain to stay one who is bent on death.
It is my will at once to flee the light.
Who dies with Hercules has lived enough.
_Nurse:_ Now by these hoary locks, as suppliant, 925
And by these breasts which suckled thee, I beg:
Abate thy wounded heart's wild threatenings,
Give o'er thy dread resolve for cruel death.
_Deianira:_ Whoe'er persuades the wretched not to die
Is cruel. Death is sometimes punishment, 930
But oft a boon, and brings forgiveness oft.
_Nurse:_ Restrain at least thy hand, unhappy child,
That he may know the deed was born of fraud,
And was not purposed by his wife's design.
_Deianira:_ I'll plead my cause before the bar of hell,
Whose gods, I think, will free me from my guilt,
Though I am self-condemned; these guilty hands 935
Will Pluto cleanse for me. Then, on thy banks,
O Lethe, with my memory clean I'll stand,
A grieving shade, awaiting him I love.
But thou, who rulest o'er the world of gloom,
Prepare some toil for me, some dreadful toil;
For this my fault outweighs all other sins
That heart of man has ever dared to do.
Nay, Juno's self was never bold enough 940
To rob the grieving world of Hercules.
Let Sisyphus from his hard labor cease,
And let his stone upon my shoulders press;
Let vagrant waves flee from my eager lips,
And that elusive water mock my thirst.
Upon thy whirling spokes have I deserved 945
To be stretched out, O king of Thessaly.
Let greedy vultures feed upon my flesh.
One from the tale of the Danaïdes
Is lacking[34] yet; let me the number fill.
Ye shades, make room for me; O Colchian wife,
Receive me as thy comrade there below. 950
My deed is worse, far worse than both thy crimes,
Though thou as mother and as sister, too,
Hast sinned. Thou also, cruel queen of Thrace,
Take me as comrade of thy crimes. And thou,
Althaea, take thy daughter, for indeed
Thou shalt discern in me thy daughter true.
And yet not one of you has ever done 955
Such deed as mine. O all ye faithful wives,
Who have your seats within the sacred groves,
Expel me from Elysium's blessed fields.
But faithless wives, who with their husbands' blood
Have stained their hands, who have forgotten quite
Their marriage vows and stood with naked sword 960
Like Belus' bloody daughters, they will know
My deeds for theirs and praise them as their own.
To such a company of wives 'tis meet
That I betake myself; but even they
Will shun such dire companionship as mine.
O husband, strong, invincible, believe
My soul is innocent, although my hands
Are criminal. O mind too credulous! 965
O Nessus, false and skilled in bestial guile!
Striving my hated rival to remove,
I have destroyed myself. O beaming sun,
And thou, O life, that by thy coaxing arts
Dost strive to hold the wretched in the light,
Begone! for every day is vile to me
That shineth not upon my Hercules. 970
Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferings
And give my life for thee. Or shall I wait
And keep myself for death at thy right hand?
Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy hands
Still bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?
Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow 975
No more obedient to thy nerveless hand?
But if, perchance, thou still art strong to slay,
Undaunted husband, I await thy hand;
Yea, for this cause will I postpone my death.
As thou didst Lichas crush, though innocent,
Crush me, to other cities scatter me,
Yea, hurl me to a land to thee unknown. 980
Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar,
And every monster that resisted[35] thee.
But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst come
Victorious and safe.
_Hyllus:_ Give o'er, I pray,
My mother; cease to blame thy guiltless fates.
Thy deed was but an error, not a fault.
_Deianira:_ My son, if thou wouldst truly filial be,
Come, slay thy mother. Why with trembling hand 985
Dost thou stand there? Why turn away thy face?
Such crime as this is truest piety.
Still dost thou lack incentive for the deed?
Behold, this hand took Hercules from thee,
Took that great sire through whom thou dost derive
Thy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from thee
A greater glory than the life I gave 990
At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime,
Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the sword
Into my neck, or sheath it in my womb,
I'll make thy soul courageous for the deed.
Thou wilt not be the doer of this crime;
For though 'tis by thy hand that I shall fall, 995
'Twill be my will. O son of Hercules,
Art thou afraid? Wilt thou not be like him,
Perform thy bidden tasks, the monsters slay?
Prepare thy dauntless hand. Behold my breast,
So full of cares, lies open to thy stroke. 1000
Smite: I forgive the deed; the very fiends,
The dread Eumenides, will spare thy hand.
But hark! I hear their dreadful scourges sound.
See! Who is that who coils her snaky locks,
And at her ugly temples brandishes
Two deadly[36] darts? Why dost thou follow me, 1005
O dire Megaera, with thy blazing brand?
Dost thou seek penalty for Hercules?
I will discharge it. O thou dreadful one,
Already have the arbiters of hell
Passed judgment on me? Lo, I see the doors
Of that sad prison-house unfold for me.
Who is that ancient man who on his back,
Worn with the toil, the stone's huge burden heaves? 1010
And even as I look the conquered stone
Rolls back again. Who on the whirling wheel
Is racked? And see! There stands Tisiphone,
With ghastly, cruel face; she seeks revenge.
Oh, spare thy scourge, Megaera, spare, I pray,
Thy Stygian brands. 'Twas love that prompted me. 1015
But what is this? The earth is tottering,
The palace roof is crashing to its fall.
Whence comes that threatening throng? Against me comes
The whole world rushing; see, on every side
The nations gnash at me, demanding back
Their savior. O ye cities, spare, I pray. 1020
Oh, whither shall I hide me from their rage?
Death is the only haven left to me.
By gleaming Phoebus' fiery disk I swear,
By all the gods of heaven: I go to death,
But leave Alcides still upon the earth.
[_She rushes from the scene._]
_Hyllus:_ Ah me, in mood of frenzy has she fled.
My mother's part in this sad tragedy 1025
Is self-assigned; she is resolved to die.
My part remains to thwart her dread resolve.
O wretched piety! O filial love!
If now my mother's death I should prevent,
I wrong my father; if I let her die,
'Gainst her I sin. Crime stands on either hand;
Yet must I check her and true crime withstand. 1030
* * * * *
_Chorus:_ The sacred singer's word was true
Which once on Thracian Rhodope,
Orpheus, the heavenly Muse's son,
Sang to his lute Pierian:
That naught for endless life is made. 1035
At his sweet strains the rushing stream
Its uproar stilled, and all its waves
Paused in forgetfulness of flight;
And while the waters stayed to hear, 1040
The tribes far down the Hebrus' stream
Deemed that their river was no more.
All wingéd creatures of the wood
And e'en the woods themselves came near
To listen; or, if far on high
Some bird was wheeling through the air, 1045
To that sweet music swift he fell
On drooping wings. The mountains came:
Rough Athos with its Centaur herd,
And Rhodope, its drifted snows
Loosed by the magic of that song, 1050
Stood by to hear. The Dryads left
The shelter of their oaken trunks
And gathered round the tuneful bard.
The beasts came, too, and with them came 1055
Their lairs; hard by the fearless flocks
The tawny Afric lion crouched;
The timid does feared not the wolves;
And serpents crawled forth to the light,
Their venom quite forgot. 1060
When through the doors of Taenara
He made his way to the silent land,
Sounding his mournful lyre the while,
The glooms of Tartara were filled
With his sad song; and the sullen gods
Of Erebus were moved to tears. 1065
He feared not the pool of the Stygian stream
By whose dread waves the heavenly gods
Make oath unbreakable.
The whirling rim of the restless wheel
Stood still, its breathless speed at rest. 1070
The immortal liver of Tityos
Grew, undevoured, while at the song
The spellbound birds forgot their greed.
Thou, too, didst hear, O boatman grim,
And thy bark that plies the infernal stream
With oars all motionless came on.
Then first the hoary Phrygian 1075
Forgot his thirst, although no more
The mocking waters fled his lips
But stood enchanted; now no more
He reaches hungry hands to grasp
The luscious fruit.
When thus through that dark world of souls
Sweet Orpheus poured such heavenly strains 1080
That the impious rock of Sisyphus
Was moved to follow him;
Then did the goddesses of fate
Renew the exhausted thread of life
For fair Eurydice. But when,
Unmindful of the law they gave, 1085
And scarce believing that his wife
Was following, the hapless man
Looked back, he lost his prize of song;
For she, who to the very verge
Of life had come again, fell back
And died again.
Then, seeking solace still in song, 1090
Orpheus unto the Getans sang:
* * * * *
The gods themselves are under law,
Yea he, who through the changing year
Directs the seasons in their course. 1095
* * * * *
Dead Hercules bids us believe
The bard, that not for any man
The fates reweave the broken web;
And that all things which have been born, 1100
And shall be, are but born to die.
When to the world the day shall come
On which the reign of law shall cease,
Then shall the southern heavens fall,
And overwhelm broad Africa 1105
With all her tribes; the northern skies
Shall fall upon those barren plains
Where sweep the blasts of Boreas.
Then from the shattered heaven the sun
Shall fall, and day shall be no more. 1110
The palace of the heavenly ones
Shall sink in ruins, dragging down
The east and western skies. Then death
And chaos shall o'erwhelm the gods 1115
In common ruin; and at last,
When all things else have been destroyed,
Death shall bring death unto itself.
Where shall the earth find haven then?
Will hades open wide her doors
To let the shattered heavens in? 1120
Or is the space 'twixt heaven and earth
Not great enough (perchance too great)
For all the evils of the world?
What place is great enough to hold
Such monstrous ills of fate?[37] What place
Will hold the gods? Shall one place then 1125
Contain three kingdoms--sea and sky
And Tartara?--
But what outrageous clamor this
That fills our frightened ears? Behold,
It is the voice of Hercules. 1130
FOOTNOTES:
[30] Lines 725-28 follow the text of Schroeder.
[31] Reading, _funus_.
[32] Reading, _quid stupes factum scelus?_
[33] Reading, _reddi_.
[34] Reading, _vacat_.
[35] Reading, _restitit_.
[36] Reading, _atras_.
[37] Reading, _fati_.