[_Enter_ Hercules _in the extremity of suffering_.]
_Hercules:_ Turn back thy panting steeds, thou shining sun,
And bid the night come forth. Blot out the day,
And let the heavens, with pitchy darkness filled,
Conceal my dying pains from Juno's eyes.
Now, father, were it fitting to recall
Dark chaos; now the joinings of the skies 1135
Should be asunder rent, and pole from pole
Be cleft. Why, father, dost thou spare the stars?
Thy Hercules is lost. Now, Jupiter,
Look well to every region of the heavens,
Lest any Gyas hurl again the crags
Of Thessaly, and Othrys be again 1140
An easy missile for Enceladus.
Now, even now will haughty Pluto loose
The gates of hell, strike off his father's chains,
And give him back to heaven. Since Hercules,
Who on the earth has seen thy thunderbolt
And lightning flash, must turn him back to Styx;
Enceladus the fierce will rise again, 1145
And hurl against the gods that mighty weight
Which now oppresses him. O Jupiter,
My death throughout the kingdom of the sky
Shall shake thy sovereignty. Then, ere thy throne
Become the giants' spoil, give burial
Beneath the ruined universe to me;
Oh, rend thy kingdom ere 'tis rent from thee. 1150
_Chorus:_ No empty fears, O Thunderer's son,
Dost thou express: for soon again
Shall Pelion on Ossa rest;
And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrust
Its woods amidst the stars of heaven.
Then shall Typhoeus heave aside 1155
The crags of Tuscan Ischia;
Enceladus, not yet o'ercome
By thunderbolts, shall bear aloft
The huge Aetnaean furnaces,
And rend the gaping mountain side.
So shall it be; for even now
The skies are tottering with thy fall. 1160
_Hercules:_ Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,
Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's pool
Returned with spoil so grim and terrible,
That Titan from his reeling chariot
Was well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:
I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword 1165
Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,
All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;
No giant with his fierce and gaping jaws
Has heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.
Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed; 1170
And, what brings greater anguish to my soul
(Shame to my manhood!), this my final day
Has seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me!
My life is squandered--and for no return.
O thou, whose rule is over all the world;
Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;
O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules 1175
Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!
Oh, base and bitter end--that fame should say
Great Hercules was by a woman slain,
He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38]
So many men and beasts! If changeless fate
Had willed that I by woman's hand should die, 1180
And if to such base end my thread of life,
Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallen
By Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,
But one who holds the heavens in her sway.
If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,
The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skies
Brought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.
But by what woman's hand shall I be said, 1185
Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?
This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.
Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy?
What baleful thing like this has earth produced
To sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hate
Has far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame, 1190
To feel thyself by Hercules alone
Outmatched; but now must thou confess thyself
By two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath!
Oh, that the Nemean lion of my blood
Had drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fed
The hydra with his hundred snaky heads
Upon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce 1195
Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shades
I, bound upon the everlasting rock,
Were sitting, lost in misery! But no:
From every distant land I've taken spoil,
While fate looked on amazed; from hellish Styx
Have I come back to earth; the bonds of Dis
I have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere, 1200
That I might lack at last a glorious end.
Alas for all the monsters I have slain!
Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus,
When he had seen the sunlight, drag me back
To hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies,
Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low?
And those twin serpents huge--ah, woe is me,
How often have I 'scaped a glorious death! 1205
What honor comes from such an end as this?
_Chorus:_ Dost see how, conscious of his fame,
He does not shrink from Lethe's stream?
Not grief for death, but shame he feels
At this his cause of death; he longs
Beneath some giant's vasty bulk 1210
To draw his final breath, to feel
Some mountain-heaving Titan's weight
Oppressing him, to owe his death
To some wild, raging beast. But no,
Poor soul, because of thine own hand
There is no deadly monster more. 1215
What worthy author of thy death,
Save that right hand of thine, is left?
_Hercules:_ Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, torn
From Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast?
My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood, 1220
Are dry and empty now; my liver burns,
Its healthy juices parched and dried away;
And all my blood is by slow creeping fires
Consumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first,
Then deep within my flesh it eats its way, 1225
Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes,
Dries up the very marrow of my bones.
There in my empty bones the pest remains;
Nor can my massive frame for long endure,
But even now, with broken, crumbling joints,
Begins to fall away. My strength is gone, 1230
And e'en the limbs of mighty Hercules
Are not enough to satisfy this pest.
Alas, how mighty must that evil be,
When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong!
Now see, ye cities, see what now remains
Of famous Hercules. Dost know thy son,
O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these 1235
That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life?
Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mine
Which brought to earth from out the very stars
The vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet--
Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag,
With golden antlers gleaming on his head?
Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands, 1240
Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts,
So many cruel men, so many kings--
Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all?
Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest?
Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck?
Are these the hands which once the tottering skies
Upheld? Oh, can it be that ever I
The Stygian watchdog dragged into the light? 1245
Where are those powers, which ere their proper time
Are dead and buried? Why on Jupiter
As father do I call? Why, wretched one,
Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him?
For now, Oh, now will I be thought the son
Of old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,
Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,
Come forth. Why with a hidden agony 1250
Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian sea
Beneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,
What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shore
Begot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!
Art thou some crested serpent brandishing
Its hideous head; or some fell thing of ill 1255
As yet unknown to me, produced perchance
From Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earth
By Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?
Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.
What are thy form and features? Grant at least
That I may know the thing by which I die.
Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou, 1260
Come out, and show thy terror to my face.
What enemy has made a way for thee
Unto my inmost heart? Behold my hands
Have torn aside my burning skin and so
My bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yet
Its hiding-place. Oh, woe invincible
As Hercules! But whence these grievous cries? 1265
And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?
My face, unmoved by grief, has never yet
Been wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,
Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,
That has beheld the tears of Hercules?
Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.
To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone 1270
That strength has yielded which so many ills
Has overcome. Thou first, yea, first of all
Hast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.
For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,
Or than the wandering Symplegades,
Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,
Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world, 1275
O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,
Has seen me giving way to tears and groans;
And, that which brings me greater anguish still,
My stepdame too has seen. But lo, again
The scorching heat flames up and burns my heart.
Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.
_Chorus:_ Where is the strength that can withstand
The power of suffering? But now
More hard than Thracian Haemus' crags, 1280
Sterner than savage northern skies,
He is by agony subdued.
His fainting head upon his breast
Falls low; his massive frame he shifts
From side to side; now and again
His manly courage dries his tears. 1285
So, with however warm a flame
Bright Titan labors to dissolve
The arctic snows, still are his fires
By those bright, icy rays outshone.
_Hercules:_ O father, turn and look upon my woes. 1290
Never till now has great Alcides fled
To thee for aid; not when around my limbs
The deadly hydra, fertile in its death,
Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the pools
Of hell, by that thick pall of death I stood
Surrounded close; and yet I called thee not.
How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome, 1295
How many kings and tyrants; yet my face
Have I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky.
This hand of mine alone has been the god
Who heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderbolts
Have ever flashed from heaven on my account.
But now at last has come a woeful time
Which bids me ask for aid. This day, the first 1300
And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules.
One thunderbolt I ask, and only one.
Consider me a giant storming heaven.
Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth;
But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies.
Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful, 1305
Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death,
And gain this great renown unto thy name.
Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a task
So impious, send forth from Sicily
Those burning Titans, who with giant hands
May Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too, 1310
And overwhelm me with their crushing weight.
Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell,
And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart;
Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death;
He is my brother; true, but Juno's son.
Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and so
Alcides' sister, bright Athene, come, 1315
And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast.
And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,
O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,
Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's hand
I may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,
Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thou
Still nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge? 1320
Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,
Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.
But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,
Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?
Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray.
O lands, and countless cities of the earth, 1325
Is there no one among you all to bring
A blazing torch for mighty Hercules?
Will no one give me arms? Why take away
My weapons from my hands? Then let no land
Bring forth dire monsters more when I am dead,
And let the world not ask for aid of mine.
If other ills are born into the world,
Then must another savior come as well. 1330
Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every side
And hurl them at my wretched head; and so
O'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world,
Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite?
Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless prey
To evil monsters, had not I been born.
Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill, 1335
Your champion. This chance is given you,
By slaying me to cancel all you owe.
[_Enter_ Alcmena.]
_Alcmena:_ Where shall Alcides' wretched mother go?
Where is my son? Lo, if I see aright,
Yonder he lies with burning fever tossed
And throbbing heart. I hear his groans of pain. 1340
Ah me, his life is at an end. My son,
Come, let me fold thee in a last embrace,
And catch thy parting spirit in my mouth;
These arms of mine upon thine own I'll lay.
But where are they? Where is that sturdy neck
Which bore the burden of the starry heavens?
What cause has left to thee so small a part
Of thy once massive frame? 1345
_Hercules:_ Thou seest, indeed,
The shadow and the piteous counterfeit
Of thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son.
But why dost turn away and hide thy face?
Art thou ashamed that such as I am called
Thy son?
_Alcmena:_ What land, what world has given birth
To this new monster? What so dire a thing 1350
Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?
_Hercules:_ By my own wife's deceits am I undone.
_Alcmena:_ What fraud is great enough to conquer thee?
_Hercules:_ Whate'er is great enough for woman's wrath.
_Alcmena:_ How got the pest so deep within thy frame? 1355
_Hercules:_ Through a poisoned robe sent by a woman's hands.
_Alcmena:_ Where is the robe? I see thy limbs are bare.
_Hercules:_ With me 'tis all consumed.
_Alcmena:_ How can it be?
_Hercules:_ I tell thee, mother, through my vitals roam
The hydra and a thousand poisonous beasts. 1360
What flames as hot as these invade the clouds
O'er Aetna's top? What glowing Lemnian fires,
What torrid radiance of the burning heavens,
Within whose scorching zone the day comes not?
O comrades, take and throw me in the sea,
Or in the river's rushing stream--alas, 1365
Where is the stream that will suffice for me?
Though greater than all lands, not ocean's self
Can cool my burning pains. To ease my woe
All streams were not enough, all springs would fail.
Why, O thou lord of Erebus, didst thou
To Jove return me? Better had it been
To hold me fast. Oh, take me back again, 1370
And show me as I am to those fell shades
Whom I subdued. Naught will I take away.
Thou hast no need to fear Alcides more.
Come death, attack me; have no fear of me;
For I at length am fain to welcome thee.
_Alcmena:_ Restrain thy tears at least; subdue thy pains.
Come, show thyself unconquered still by woe; 1375
And death and hell, as is thy wont, defy.
_Hercules:_ If on the heights of Caucasus I lay
In chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed,
While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me,
No sound of woe should issue from my lips;
Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades 1380
Together clash and threaten me with death,
I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony.
Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too,
Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas,
And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurled
The bolts of Jove--if e'en the sky itself 1385
Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' car
In blazing torture on my shoulders lie:
No coward cry of pain would ever show
The mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more:
Although a thousand monstrous beasts at once
Should rush upon and rend me limb from limb;
Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild, 1390
And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,
And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;
Nay, though the very soil of earth should rise
And shriek[39] its rage at me from every side;
Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:
Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I
In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,
No weapon wielded by the hand of man,
Could force from me a single word of pain. 1395
_Alcmena:_ No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;
But thy long years of work, thy constant toils,
Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.
_Hercules:_ Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be?
Does any evil still upon the earth
Exist, with me alive? But let it come.
Let someone quickly bring my bow to me-- 1400
But no: my naked hands will be enough.
Now bid the monster come.
_Alcmena:_ Alas, his pains,
Too great, have reft his senses quite away.
Remove his weapons, take those deadly shafts
Out of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks 1405
Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I,
A helpless, agéd woman hide myself?
That grief of his has changed to maddened rage,
And that alone is master of him now.
Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am,
Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave hand
Alcmena has deserved to meet her death.
So let me perish even impiously, 1410
Before some craven soul command my death,
Or some base creature triumph over me.
But see, outworn by woe, his weary heart
Is in the soothing bonds of slumber bound;
His panting chest with labored breathing heaves.
Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me 1415
Have willed to take my glorious son, at least
Spare to the world, I pray, its champion.
Let all his pains depart, and once again
Let great Alcides' frame renew its strength.
[_Enter_ Hyllus.]
_Hyllus:_ O bitter light, O day with evil filled!
Dead is the Thunderer's daughter, and his son 1420
Lies dying. I alone of all survive.
By my own mother's crime my father dies,
But she by guile was snared. What agéd man,
Throughout the round of years, in all his life,
Will e'er be able to recount such woes?
One day has snatched away my parents both. 1425
But though I say naught of my other ills,
And cease to blame the fates, still must I say:
My sire, the mighty Hercules, is gone.
_Alcmena:_ Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire,
And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief;
Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain.
But see, repose deserts his weary heart, 1430
And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.
_Hercules_ [_awakening in delirium_]: Why, what is this? Do I with
waking eyes
See little Trachin on her craggy seat,
Or, set amongst the stars, have I at length
Escaped the race of men? Who opes for me
The gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see, 1435
Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased.
What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears?
Great Juno calls me son! Now I behold
The gleaming palace of the heavenly world,
And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels.
[_Beginning to come out of his delirium._]
I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence. 1440
But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven,
And from the stars, O father, leads me down?
I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face,
So near to heaven was I; but now, alas,
'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earth
Has given me back again? A moment since, 1445
And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below,
And all the world was lying at my feet.
How sweet the respite that I had from thee,
O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess--but stay,
Let not such shameful words escape thy lips.
[_To_ Hyllus.]
This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift.
Oh, that I might crush out her guilty life
With my great club, as once the Amazons 1450
I smote upon the snowy Caucasus.
O well-loved Megara, to think that thou
Wast wife of mine when in that fit I fell
Of maddened rage! Give me my club and bow;
Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blot
Let me destroy the luster of my praise--
My latest conquest on a woman gained! 1455
_Hyllus:_ Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath;
She has her wound--'tis over--and has paid
The penalty which thou wouldst have her pay:
For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.
_Hercules:_ O grief, still with me! She deserved to die
Beneath the hands of angry Hercules. 1460
O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death.
So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpse
I still would rage. Why does her body lie
Secure from my assaults? Go cast it out
To be a banquet for the birds of prey.
_Hyllus:_ She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish.
Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died. 1465
But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit,
Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low.
By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived,
Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life.
'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped, 1470
And by thy pains he doth requite his own.
_Hercules:_ Then truly are his pains well recompensed,
And my own doubtful oracles explained.
This fate the talking oak foretold to me,
And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voice
Shook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes: 1475
"By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,
Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.
This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land,
And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee."
Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet;
Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules 1480
Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my death
Be glorious, illustrious, renowned,
And worthy of myself. This final day
Will I make famous in the ears of men.
Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's groves
Bring hither, that a mighty funeral pyre
May hold great Hercules before he dies.
And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask 1485
To do this last, sad office for thy friend,
And all the sky illumine with the flames
Of Hercules. And now to thee this prayer,
This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make:
Among my captives is a beauteous maid,
Of noble breeding and of royal birth.
'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus. 1490
Her would I have thee to thy chamber lead
With fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood,
Victorious, I robbed her of her home
And fatherland; and in return, poor girl,
Naught save Alcides have I given her;
And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woes
In the embrace of him who boasts the blood 1495
Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seed
She has conceived of me let her to thee
Bring forth.
[_To_ Alcmena.]
And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray,
For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives;
And by my might have I my stepdame made
To seem but as the concubine of Jove. 1500
Whether the story of the night prolonged
At Hercules' begetting be the truth,
Or whether I was got of mortal sire--
Though I be falsely called the son of Jove,
I have indeed deserved to be his son;
For I have honored him, and to his praise 1505
My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himself
Is proud that he is held to be my sire.
Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt be
Of high degree among Argolic dames.
For no such son as thine has Juno borne,
Though she may wield the scepter of the skies, 1510
The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven,
She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth,
And wished that she might call him son of hers.
Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone;
For I, who have thy constant comrade been,
Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades.
Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise: 1515
That openly no monster conquered me,
But that I conquered all--and openly.
* * * * *
_Chorus:_ Bright sun, thou glory of the world,
At whose first rays wan Hecate
Unyokes the weary steeds of night, 1520
To east and west the message tell;
To those who suffer 'neath the Bear,
And who, beneath thy burning car
Are tortured: Hercules prepares
To speed him to the world of shades, 1525
The realm of sleepless Cerberus,
Whence he will[40] ne'er again return.
Let thy bright rays be overcast
With clouds; gaze on the mourning world
With pallid face; and let thy head
In thick and murky mists be veiled. 1530
When, Titan, where, beneath what sky,
Shalt thou behold upon the earth
Another such as Hercules?
Whom shall the wretched land invoke,
If any hundred-headed pest,
In Lerna born, spring up anew 1535
And spread destruction; if again
Some boar in ancient Arcady
Infest the woods; or if again
Some son of Thracian Rhodope,
With heart more hard than the frozen lands
That lie 'neath snowy Helice,
Should stain his stalls with human gore? 1540
Who will give peace to the trembling folk
If angry gods with monstrous birth
Should curse the world again? Behold,
The mate for common man he lies,
Whom earth produced a mate for Jove.
Let lamentations loud resound 1545
Through all the world; with streaming hair
Let women smite their naked arms;
Let all the temples of the gods
Be closed save Juno's; she alone
Is free from care.
To Lethe and the Stygian shore 1550
Now art thou going, whence no keel
Will ever bring thee back. Thou goest,
Lamented one, unto the shades,
Whence, death o'ercome, thou once return'dst
In triumph with thy prize; but now,
An empty shade, with fleshless arms,
Wan face, and slender, drooping neck, 1555
Thou goest back. Nor will the skiff
(Which once bore only thee and feared
That even so 'twould be o'erturned)
Bear thee alone across the stream.
But not with common shades shalt thou
Be herded. Thou with Aeacus[41]
And pious kings of Crete shalt sit
In judgment on the deeds of men,
And punish tyrants. O ye kings, 1560
Be merciful, restrain your hands.
'Tis worthy praise to keep the sword
Unstained with blood; while thou didst reign,
Upon thy realm to have allowed
Least privilege to bloody[42] fate.
But place among the stars is given
To manly virtue. Shalt thou hold 1565
Thy seat within the northern skies,
Or where his fiercest rays the sun
Sends forth? Or in the balmy west
Wilt shine, where thou mayst hear the waves
On Calpe's shore resound? What place
In heaven serene shalt thou obtain? 1570
When great Alcides is received
Among the stars, who will be free
From fear? May Jove assign thy place
Far from the raging Lion's seat,
And burning Crab, lest at sight of thee
The frightened stars confuse their laws
And Titan quake with fear. 1575
So long as blooming flowers shall come
With wakening spring; while winter's frosts
Strip bare the trees, and summer suns
Reclothe them with their wonted green;
While in the autumn ripened fruits
Fall to the ground: no lapse of time 1580
Shall e'er destroy thy memory
Upon the earth. For thou shalt live
As comrade of the sun and stars.
Sooner shall wheat grow in the sea,
Or stormy straits with gentle waves
Beat on the shore; sooner descend
The Bear from out his frozen sky
And bathe him in forbidden waves: 1585
Than shall the thankful people cease
To sing thy praise.
And now to thee,
O father of the world, we pray:
Let no dread beast be born on earth,
No monstrous pest; keep this poor world
From abject fear of heartless kings;
Let no one hold the reins of power 1590
Who deems his kingdom's glory lies
In the terror of his naked sword.
But if again some thing of dread
Appear upon the earth, Oh, give,
We pray, another champion.
But what is this? The heavens resound. 1595
Behold Alcides' father mourns,
He mourns his son. Or is't the sound
Of grieving gods, or the cry of fear
Of the timid stepdame? Can it be
That at the sight of Hercules
Great Juno flees the stars? Perchance
Beneath the added weight of heaven
Tall Atlas reels. Or do the shades 1600
Cry out in fear of Hercules,
While Cerberus with broken chains
In panic flees the sight? Not so:
Behold, 'tis Poeas' son, who comes
With looks of gladness. See, he bears
The well-known quiver and the shafts 1605
Of Hercules.
FOOTNOTES:
[38] Reading, _auctor_.
[39] Reading, _fremens_.
[40] Reading, _remeabit_.
[41] Reading, _Aeacon_.
[42] Reading, _minimum cruentis_.