Chapter 14

Deianira[invokingCupid]: O wingéd boy, by earth and heaven feared,By creatures of the sea, and him who wieldsThe bolts in Aetna forged; and dreaded tooBy thy relentless mother, queen of love:Aim with unerring hand thy swiftest dart.Not harmless be the shaft, but choose, I pray545One of thy keenest arrows, which thy handHas never used; for such must be thy dartIf mighty Hercules be forced to love.Make firm thy hands and strongly bend thy bow;Now, now that shaft let loose which once thou aim'dst550At Jove the terrible, what time the godLaid down his thunderbolts, and as a bullWith swelling forehead clove the boisterous sea,And bore the Assyrian maiden as his prize.Now fill his heart with love; let him surpassAll who have ever felt thy passion's power—And learn to love his wife. If Iole555Has kindled flames of love within his heart,Extinguish them, and let him dream aloneOf me. Thou who hast often conquered Jove,The Thunderer, and him whose scepter darkHolds sway within the gloomy underworld,The king of countless throngs, the lord of Styx;560Whom angry Juno cannot quell: win thouAlone this triumph over Hercules.Nurse[returning with robe and charm ready]: The charm from its dark hiding-place is brought,And that fair robe upon whose cunning webThy maidens all have wrought with wearied hands.Now bring the poisoned blood and let the robe565Drink in its magic power, while by my prayersWill I the charm augment.[EnterLichas.]But at the wordThe faithful Lichas comes. Quick! hide the charm,Lest by his mouth our plot may be revealed.Deianira[toLichas]: O Lichas, ever faithful to thy lord,A name which mighty houses may not boast:570Take thou this garment woven by my hands,While Hercules was wandering o'er the earth,Or, spent with wine, was holding in his armsThe Lydian queen, or calling Iole.And yet, perchance, I still may turn his heartTo me again by wifely service. ThusHave evil men full often been reclaimed.575Before my husband puts this tunic on,Bid him burn incense and appease the gods,His rough locks wreathed with hoary poplar leaves.[Lichastakes the robe and departs upon his mission.]I will myself within the palace goAnd pray the mother of relentless love.580[To her Aetolian attendants.]Do ye, who from my father's house have come,Bewail the sad misfortunes of your queen.[Exit.]Chorus of Aetolian women:We weep for thee, O lady dear,And for thy couch dishonored—we,The comrades of thy earliest years,Weep and lament thy fate.585How often have we played with theeIn Acheloüs' shallow pools,When now the swollen floods of springHad passed away, and gently now,With graceful sweep, the river ran;When mad Lycormas ceased to roll590His headlong waters on.How oft have we, a choral band,To Pallas' altars gone with thee;How oft in Theban baskets borne595The sacred Bacchic mysteries,When now the wintry stars have fled,When each third summer calls the sun;And when, the sacred rites completeTo Ceres, queen of golden grain,Eleusin hides her worshipersWithin her mystic cave.Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st,600Accept us as thy trusted friends;For rare is such fidelityWhen better fortune fails.O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power,Whoe'er thou art, though eagerlyThe people throng within thy courts,605And press for entrance at thy doors;And though the crowds press thick aboutWhere'er thou tak'st thy way: be sureThat in so many seeming friends,Scarce one is true.Erinys keeps the gilded gate;And when the great doors swing apart,610Then cunning treachery creeps inAnd fraud, and murderous dagger points.Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad,Base envy as thy comrade goes.As often as the morning dawnsBe sure a king from fear of death615Has been delivered. Few there areWho love the king, and not his power.For 'tis the glitter of the throneThat fires most hearts to loyalty.Now one is eager next the kingTo walk before the gaze of men,And so gain luster for himself;For greed of glory burns his heart.620Another from the royal storesSeeks to supply his own desires;And yet not all the precious sandsOf Hister's streams could satisfy,Nor Lydia sate his thirst for gold;Nor that far land where Zephyr blows,Which looks in wonder on the gleam625Of Tagus' golden sands.Were all the wealth of Hebrus his;If rich Hydaspes were his own;If through his fields, with all its stream,He saw the Ganges flowing: still630For greed, base greed 'twould not suffice.One honors kings and courts of kings,Not that his careful husbandmenForever stooping o'er the plowMay never cease their toil for him;Or that his peasantry may till635His thousand fields: but wealth alone,Which he may hoard away, he seeks.Another worships kings, that soAll other men he may oppress,May ruin many, none assist;And with this sole aim covets power,That he may use it ill.How few live out their fated span!640Whom yesternight saw radiantWith joy, the newborn day beholdsIn wretched case. How rare it isTo find old age and happinessCombined. More soft than Tyrian couch,The greensward soothes to fearless sleep;645But gilded ceilings break our rest,And sleepless through the night we lieOn beds of luxury.Oh, should the rich lay bare their hearts,What fears which lofty fortune breedsWould be revealed! The Bruttian coast650When Corus lashes up the seaIs calmer far. Not so the poor:His heart is ever full of peace.From shallow beechen cups he drinks,But not with trembling hands; his foodIs cheap and common, but he sees655No naked sword above his head.'Tis in the cup of gold aloneThat blood is mingled with the wine.The poor man's wife no necklace wroughtOf costly pearls, the red sea's gift,660May wear; no gems from eastern shoresWeigh down her ears; nor does she wearSoft scarlet wools in Tyrian dyeTwice dipped; not hers with Lydian artTo 'broider costly silks whose threads665The Serians under sunlit skiesFrom orient treetops gather; sheWith common herbs must dye the webWhich she with unskilled hands has wov'n:But still her husband is her own,670Her couch by rivals undisturbed.But favored brides, whose wedding dayThe thronging people celebrate,Fate with her cruel torch pursues.The poor no happiness can knowUnless he sees the fortunateFrom their high station fallen.Whoever shuns the middle course675Can never in safe pathways go.When once bold Phaëthon essayedWithin his father's car to standAnd give the day, and did not fareAlong the accustomed track, but soughtWith wandering wheels to make his way680With Phoebus' torch 'midst unknown stars—Himself he ruined and the earthIn one destruction. DaedalusThe middle course of heaven pursued,And so to peaceful shores attainedAnd gave no sea its name. His son,685Young Icarus, dared rival birdsIn flight, despised his father's wings,And soared high up into the realmOf Phoebus' rays: headlong he fellAnd to an unknown sea his nameHe gave. So are great fortunes joined690To mighty ills.Let others then as fortunateAnd great be hailed; I wish no shareOf popular renown. My boatIs frail and needs must hug the shore.And let no strong wind force my bark695Far out to sea; for fortune sparesSafe-harbored boats, but seeks the shipsIn mid sea proudly sailing on,Their topsails in the clouds.But why with pallid face, in fear,700Like some Bacchante smitten soreWith madness, comes our princess forth?What new reverse of fortune's wheelHas come to vex thy tortured soul?For though thou speakest ne'er a word, poor queen,Whate'er thou hidest, in thy face is seen.FOOTNOTES:[27]Reading,celsus.[28]Reading,ripis.[29]Reading,fluentem.ACT IIIDeianira[hurrying distractedly out of the palace]: A nameless terror fills my stricken limbs,705My hair stands up in horror, and my soul,But now so passion tossed, is dumb with fear;My heart beats wildly, and my liver throbsWith pulsing veins. As when the storm-tossed sea710Still heaves and swells, although the skies are clearAnd winds have died away; so is my mindStill tossed and restless, though my fear is stayed.When once the fortunate begin to feelThe 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?715Deianira:But now, when I had sent away the robeWith 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 proveThe charm. Fierce Nessus, I bethought me then,Had bidden me to keep the blood from flame;720And 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 sun725I cast the blood-stained remnant of the clothWith which the fatal garment had been smeared.The thing writhed horribly, and burst aflameAs soon as Phoebus warmed it with his rays.Oh, 'tis a dreadful portent that I tell!As when the snows on Mimas' sparkling sidesAre melted by the genial breath of spring;730As on Leucadia's crags the heaving wavesAre dashed and break in foam upon the beach;Or as the incense on the holy shrinesIs melted by the warming altar fires:So did the woolen fragment melt away.735And 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.[Hyllusis seen approaching.]But hither comes my son with face of fear,740And hurrying feet.[ToHyllus.]What tidings dost thou bear?Hyllus:Oh, speed thee, mother, to whatever placeOn land or sea, among the stars of heaven,Or in the depths of hell, can keep thee safeBeyond the deadly reach of Hercules.Deianira:Some great disaster doth my mind presage.745Hyllus: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 given750To 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 soulsAre e'er in haste to know their miseries.Come, tell, what present fate o'erhangs our house?755O 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 raceLifts up the voice of mourning. All the world760Is 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 death765Lies 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 handHas thrown aside her distaff, and in fearRefuses to complete Alcides' fate.770O day, O awful day! and must this beThe 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,775On every side lashed by the tossing waves.Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea,And here rough Auster blows. But on the sideWhich feels the blast of snowy Aquilo,Euripus restless leads his wandering waves;Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high,780Seven times they sink again, before the sunHis weary horses plunges in the sea.Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,An ancient temple of Cenaean JoveGleams far and wide. When at the altars stoodThe votive herd, and all the grove was fullOf hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls;785Then Hercules put off his lion's skinWith 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,790Not falsely called my father, take these giftsAnd let the sacred fire blaze brightly upWith copious incense, which the Arab richFrom Saba's trees in worship of the sunCollects. All monsters of the earth, the sea,The sky have been subdued at last, and I,As victor over all, am home returned.795Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then.But even as he prayed a heavy groanFell from his lips, and he was horror struckAnd mute awhile. And then with dreadful criesHe filled the air. As when a votive bullFeels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax,And flees away, retaining still the steel,And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall;800Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky:So did Alcides smite the very starsAnd sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard,The Cyclades re-echoed with the sound,Caphereus' rocky crags and all the groveResounded with the groans of Hercules.805We saw him weep. The common people deemedHis 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 hands810Upon the altar, even then forestalledThrough deadly fear the bitter pangs of death,And so left meager food for punishment.Then did Alcides grasp the quivering corpseAnd cried: "By such a hand as this, ye fates,Shall it be said that I was overcome?Has Lichas conquered Hercules? See thenAnother slaughter: Hercules in turn815Slays Lichas. Be my noble deeds by thisDishonored; let this be my crowning task."He spake, and high in air the wretched boyWas hurled, the very heavens with his goreBesprinkling. So the Getan arrow flies,Far leaping from the bowman's hand; so fliesThe Cretan dart, but far within the mark.820His 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 rageOf madness; 'gainst myself alone I turn."825He 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 deedsAlcides could not do. Yet striving stillTo tear the garment off, he tore the flesh.The robe seemed part of that gigantic form,830Yea, part and parcel of the flesh itself.The cause of this dire suffering is hid,But yet there is a cause. His pain at lengthUnable to endure, prone on the earthHe grovels; now for cooling water calls.But water has no power to soothe his pain.835He seeks the shore and plunges in the sea,The while his servant's hands direct his steps.Oh, bitter lot, that mighty HerculesShould come to be the mate of common men!And now a vessel from Euboea's shoreBears off the ponderous bulk of Hercules,The gentle southwind wafting it along.840His 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 worldMust he be given back. Vain such appeal.Make then what reparation[33]yet thou mayst:Through this my guilty body let the sword845Be driven. Thus, thus, 'tis well that it be done.But can this puny hand of mine atoneFor crime so great? O sire of Hercules,Destroy me with thy hurtling thunderbolt,Thy guilty daughter. With no common dartArm thine avenging hand; but use that shaftWith which, had Hercules ne'er sprung from thee,850Thou wouldst have scorched the hydra. As a pestUnprecedented smite me, as a scourgeFar worse to bear than any stepdame's wrath.Such bolt as once at wandering PhaëthonThou hurledst, aim at me. For I myselfHave ruined all mankind in Hercules.855But why demand a weapon of the gods?For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wifeShould 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.860Yea, 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 red865With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true;But still its agony can be prolonged.O hesitating soul, thou canst not chooseWhat form of death to die. Oh, that the swordOf Hercules within my chamber hung!How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die!But is't enough that by one hand I fall?870Assemble, 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 kingsTheir scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise875With none to let; again shall shrines be sought,Where worshiper and victim are alikeIn human form. A broad highway for crimeHave I prepared; and, by removing himWho was their bulwark, have exposed mankindTo every form of monstrous man and beastAnd savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work,880O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not,In imitation of thy brother, snatchFrom his own hand the fiery thunderbolt,And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lostGreat praise and mighty triumph by my act:I have forestalled thee, Juno, in the deathOf this thy rival.Hyllus:Wouldst to ruin doomThy house already tottering? This crime,Whate'er it is, is all from error sprung.885He 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.890Hyllus: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?895Deianira: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 restored900Whose 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 darts905Transfixed his sons. Still, though a parricide,Thrice guilty, he forgave himself the deed,Blaming his madness. In Cinyphian wavesIn Libya's land he washed his sin away,And cleansed his hands. Then why, poor soul, shouldst thouSo hastily condemn thine own misdeeds?Deianira:The fact that I have ruined Hercules910Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.Hyllus:If I know Hercules, he soon will comeVictorious 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.915Hyllus:Think'st thou the poison of that serpent, slain,Cannot be overcome by that brave manWho 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.920Shall 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,925And 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 dieIs cruel. Death is sometimes punishment,930But 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 hands935Will 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 sinsThat heart of man has ever dared to do.Nay, Juno's self was never bold enough940To 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 deserved945To be stretched out, O king of Thessaly.Let greedy vultures feed upon my flesh.One from the tale of the DanaïdesIs lacking[34]yet; let me the number fill.Ye shades, make room for me; O Colchian wife,Receive me as thy comrade there below.950My 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 indeedThou shalt discern in me thy daughter true.And yet not one of you has ever done955Such 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' bloodHave stained their hands, who have forgotten quiteTheir marriage vows and stood with naked sword960Like Belus' bloody daughters, they will knowMy deeds for theirs and praise them as their own.To such a company of wives 'tis meetThat I betake myself; but even theyWill shun such dire companionship as mine.O husband, strong, invincible, believeMy soul is innocent, although my handsAre criminal. O mind too credulous!965O 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 artsDost strive to hold the wretched in the light,Begone! for every day is vile to meThat shineth not upon my Hercules.970Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferingsAnd give my life for thee. Or shall I waitAnd keep myself for death at thy right hand?Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy handsStill bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow975No 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.980Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar,And every monster that resisted[35]thee.But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst comeVictorious 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 hand985Dost 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 deriveThy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from theeA greater glory than the life I gave990At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime,Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the swordInto 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.1000Smite: 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 brandishesTwo deadly[36]darts? Why dost thou follow me,1005O 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 hellPassed judgment on me? Lo, I see the doorsOf 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?1010And even as I look the conquered stoneRolls back again. Who on the whirling wheelIs 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.1015But what is this? The earth is tottering,The palace roof is crashing to its fall.Whence comes that threatening throng? Against me comesThe whole world rushing; see, on every sideThe nations gnash at me, demanding backTheir savior. O ye cities, spare, I pray.1020Oh, 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 tragedy1025Is 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.1030Chorus:The sacred singer's word was trueWhich once on Thracian Rhodope,Orpheus, the heavenly Muse's son,Sang to his lute Pierian:That naught for endless life is made.1035At his sweet strains the rushing streamIts uproar stilled, and all its wavesPaused in forgetfulness of flight;And while the waters stayed to hear,1040The tribes far down the Hebrus' streamDeemed that their river was no more.All wingéd creatures of the woodAnd e'en the woods themselves came nearTo listen; or, if far on highSome bird was wheeling through the air,1045To that sweet music swift he fellOn drooping wings. The mountains came:Rough Athos with its Centaur herd,And Rhodope, its drifted snowsLoosed by the magic of that song,1050Stood by to hear. The Dryads leftThe shelter of their oaken trunksAnd gathered round the tuneful bard.The beasts came, too, and with them came1055Their lairs; hard by the fearless flocksThe tawny Afric lion crouched;The timid does feared not the wolves;And serpents crawled forth to the light,Their venom quite forgot.1060When through the doors of TaenaraHe made his way to the silent land,Sounding his mournful lyre the while,The glooms of Tartara were filledWith his sad song; and the sullen godsOf Erebus were moved to tears.1065He feared not the pool of the Stygian streamBy whose dread waves the heavenly godsMake oath unbreakable.The whirling rim of the restless wheelStood still, its breathless speed at rest.1070The immortal liver of TityosGrew, undevoured, while at the songThe spellbound birds forgot their greed.Thou, too, didst hear, O boatman grim,And thy bark that plies the infernal streamWith oars all motionless came on.Then first the hoary Phrygian1075Forgot his thirst, although no moreThe mocking waters fled his lipsBut stood enchanted; now no moreHe reaches hungry hands to graspThe luscious fruit.When thus through that dark world of soulsSweet Orpheus poured such heavenly strains1080That the impious rock of SisyphusWas moved to follow him;Then did the goddesses of fateRenew the exhausted thread of lifeFor fair Eurydice. But when,Unmindful of the law they gave,1085And scarce believing that his wifeWas following, the hapless manLooked back, he lost his prize of song;For she, who to the very vergeOf life had come again, fell backAnd died again.Then, seeking solace still in song,1090Orpheus unto the Getans sang:The gods themselves are under law,Yea he, who through the changing yearDirects the seasons in their course.1095Dead Hercules bids us believeThe bard, that not for any manThe fates reweave the broken web;And that all things which have been born,1100And shall be, are but born to die.When to the world the day shall comeOn which the reign of law shall cease,Then shall the southern heavens fall,And overwhelm broad Africa1105With all her tribes; the northern skiesShall fall upon those barren plainsWhere sweep the blasts of Boreas.Then from the shattered heaven the sunShall fall, and day shall be no more.1110The palace of the heavenly onesShall sink in ruins, dragging downThe east and western skies. Then deathAnd chaos shall o'erwhelm the gods1115In 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 doorsTo let the shattered heavens in?1120Or is the space 'twixt heaven and earthNot great enough (perchance too great)For all the evils of the world?What place is great enough to holdSuch monstrous ills of fate?[37]What placeWill hold the gods? Shall one place then1125Contain three kingdoms—sea and skyAnd Tartara?—But what outrageous clamor thisThat fills our frightened ears? Behold,It is the voice of Hercules.1130

Deianira[invokingCupid]: O wingéd boy, by earth and heaven feared,

By creatures of the sea, and him who wields

The bolts in Aetna forged; and dreaded too

By thy relentless mother, queen of love:

Aim with unerring hand thy swiftest dart.

Not harmless be the shaft, but choose, I pray545

One of thy keenest arrows, which thy hand

Has never used; for such must be thy dart

If mighty Hercules be forced to love.

Make firm thy hands and strongly bend thy bow;

Now, now that shaft let loose which once thou aim'dst550

At Jove the terrible, what time the god

Laid down his thunderbolts, and as a bull

With swelling forehead clove the boisterous sea,

And bore the Assyrian maiden as his prize.

Now fill his heart with love; let him surpass

All who have ever felt thy passion's power—

And learn to love his wife. If Iole555

Has kindled flames of love within his heart,

Extinguish them, and let him dream alone

Of me. Thou who hast often conquered Jove,

The Thunderer, and him whose scepter dark

Holds sway within the gloomy underworld,

The king of countless throngs, the lord of Styx;560

Whom angry Juno cannot quell: win thou

Alone this triumph over Hercules.

Nurse[returning with robe and charm ready]: The charm from its dark hiding-place is brought,And that fair robe upon whose cunning webThy maidens all have wrought with wearied hands.Now bring the poisoned blood and let the robe565Drink in its magic power, while by my prayersWill I the charm augment.[EnterLichas.]But at the wordThe faithful Lichas comes. Quick! hide the charm,Lest by his mouth our plot may be revealed.

Nurse[returning with robe and charm ready]: The charm from its dark hiding-place is brought,

And that fair robe upon whose cunning web

Thy maidens all have wrought with wearied hands.

Now bring the poisoned blood and let the robe565

Drink in its magic power, while by my prayers

Will I the charm augment.

[EnterLichas.]

But at the word

The faithful Lichas comes. Quick! hide the charm,

Lest by his mouth our plot may be revealed.

Deianira[toLichas]: O Lichas, ever faithful to thy lord,A name which mighty houses may not boast:570Take thou this garment woven by my hands,While Hercules was wandering o'er the earth,Or, spent with wine, was holding in his armsThe Lydian queen, or calling Iole.And yet, perchance, I still may turn his heartTo me again by wifely service. ThusHave evil men full often been reclaimed.575Before my husband puts this tunic on,Bid him burn incense and appease the gods,His rough locks wreathed with hoary poplar leaves.[Lichastakes the robe and departs upon his mission.]I will myself within the palace goAnd pray the mother of relentless love.580[To her Aetolian attendants.]Do ye, who from my father's house have come,Bewail the sad misfortunes of your queen.

Deianira[toLichas]: O Lichas, ever faithful to thy lord,

A name which mighty houses may not boast:570

Take thou this garment woven by my hands,

While Hercules was wandering o'er the earth,

Or, spent with wine, was holding in his arms

The Lydian queen, or calling Iole.

And yet, perchance, I still may turn his heart

To me again by wifely service. Thus

Have evil men full often been reclaimed.575

Before my husband puts this tunic on,

Bid him burn incense and appease the gods,

His rough locks wreathed with hoary poplar leaves.

[Lichastakes the robe and departs upon his mission.]

I will myself within the palace go

And pray the mother of relentless love.580

[To her Aetolian attendants.]

Do ye, who from my father's house have come,

Bewail the sad misfortunes of your queen.

[Exit.]

Chorus of Aetolian women:We weep for thee, O lady dear,And for thy couch dishonored—we,The comrades of thy earliest years,Weep and lament thy fate.585How often have we played with theeIn Acheloüs' shallow pools,When now the swollen floods of springHad passed away, and gently now,With graceful sweep, the river ran;When mad Lycormas ceased to roll590His headlong waters on.How oft have we, a choral band,To Pallas' altars gone with thee;How oft in Theban baskets borne595The sacred Bacchic mysteries,When now the wintry stars have fled,When each third summer calls the sun;And when, the sacred rites completeTo Ceres, queen of golden grain,Eleusin hides her worshipersWithin her mystic cave.Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st,600Accept us as thy trusted friends;For rare is such fidelityWhen better fortune fails.O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power,Whoe'er thou art, though eagerlyThe people throng within thy courts,605And press for entrance at thy doors;And though the crowds press thick aboutWhere'er thou tak'st thy way: be sureThat in so many seeming friends,Scarce one is true.Erinys keeps the gilded gate;And when the great doors swing apart,610Then cunning treachery creeps inAnd fraud, and murderous dagger points.Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad,Base envy as thy comrade goes.As often as the morning dawnsBe sure a king from fear of death615Has been delivered. Few there areWho love the king, and not his power.For 'tis the glitter of the throneThat fires most hearts to loyalty.Now one is eager next the kingTo walk before the gaze of men,And so gain luster for himself;For greed of glory burns his heart.620Another from the royal storesSeeks to supply his own desires;And yet not all the precious sandsOf Hister's streams could satisfy,Nor Lydia sate his thirst for gold;Nor that far land where Zephyr blows,Which looks in wonder on the gleam625Of Tagus' golden sands.Were all the wealth of Hebrus his;If rich Hydaspes were his own;If through his fields, with all its stream,He saw the Ganges flowing: still630For greed, base greed 'twould not suffice.One honors kings and courts of kings,Not that his careful husbandmenForever stooping o'er the plowMay never cease their toil for him;Or that his peasantry may till635His thousand fields: but wealth alone,Which he may hoard away, he seeks.Another worships kings, that soAll other men he may oppress,May ruin many, none assist;And with this sole aim covets power,That he may use it ill.How few live out their fated span!640Whom yesternight saw radiantWith joy, the newborn day beholdsIn wretched case. How rare it isTo find old age and happinessCombined. More soft than Tyrian couch,The greensward soothes to fearless sleep;645But gilded ceilings break our rest,And sleepless through the night we lieOn beds of luxury.Oh, should the rich lay bare their hearts,What fears which lofty fortune breedsWould be revealed! The Bruttian coast650When Corus lashes up the seaIs calmer far. Not so the poor:His heart is ever full of peace.From shallow beechen cups he drinks,But not with trembling hands; his foodIs cheap and common, but he sees655No naked sword above his head.'Tis in the cup of gold aloneThat blood is mingled with the wine.The poor man's wife no necklace wroughtOf costly pearls, the red sea's gift,660May wear; no gems from eastern shoresWeigh down her ears; nor does she wearSoft scarlet wools in Tyrian dyeTwice dipped; not hers with Lydian artTo 'broider costly silks whose threads665The Serians under sunlit skiesFrom orient treetops gather; sheWith common herbs must dye the webWhich she with unskilled hands has wov'n:But still her husband is her own,670Her couch by rivals undisturbed.But favored brides, whose wedding dayThe thronging people celebrate,Fate with her cruel torch pursues.The poor no happiness can knowUnless he sees the fortunateFrom their high station fallen.Whoever shuns the middle course675Can never in safe pathways go.When once bold Phaëthon essayedWithin his father's car to standAnd give the day, and did not fareAlong the accustomed track, but soughtWith wandering wheels to make his way680With Phoebus' torch 'midst unknown stars—Himself he ruined and the earthIn one destruction. DaedalusThe middle course of heaven pursued,And so to peaceful shores attainedAnd gave no sea its name. His son,685Young Icarus, dared rival birdsIn flight, despised his father's wings,And soared high up into the realmOf Phoebus' rays: headlong he fellAnd to an unknown sea his nameHe gave. So are great fortunes joined690To mighty ills.Let others then as fortunateAnd great be hailed; I wish no shareOf popular renown. My boatIs frail and needs must hug the shore.And let no strong wind force my bark695Far out to sea; for fortune sparesSafe-harbored boats, but seeks the shipsIn mid sea proudly sailing on,Their topsails in the clouds.But why with pallid face, in fear,700Like some Bacchante smitten soreWith madness, comes our princess forth?What new reverse of fortune's wheelHas come to vex thy tortured soul?For though thou speakest ne'er a word, poor queen,Whate'er thou hidest, in thy face is seen.

Chorus of Aetolian women:We weep for thee, O lady dear,

And for thy couch dishonored—we,

The comrades of thy earliest years,

Weep and lament thy fate.585

How often have we played with thee

In Acheloüs' shallow pools,

When now the swollen floods of spring

Had passed away, and gently now,

With graceful sweep, the river ran;

When mad Lycormas ceased to roll590

His headlong waters on.

How oft have we, a choral band,

To Pallas' altars gone with thee;

How oft in Theban baskets borne595

The sacred Bacchic mysteries,

When now the wintry stars have fled,

When each third summer calls the sun;

And when, the sacred rites complete

To Ceres, queen of golden grain,

Eleusin hides her worshipers

Within her mystic cave.

Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st,600

Accept us as thy trusted friends;

For rare is such fidelity

When better fortune fails.

O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power,

Whoe'er thou art, though eagerly

The people throng within thy courts,605

And press for entrance at thy doors;

And though the crowds press thick about

Where'er thou tak'st thy way: be sure

That in so many seeming friends,

Scarce one is true.

Erinys keeps the gilded gate;

And when the great doors swing apart,610

Then cunning treachery creeps in

And fraud, and murderous dagger points.

Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad,

Base envy as thy comrade goes.

As often as the morning dawns

Be sure a king from fear of death615

Has been delivered. Few there are

Who love the king, and not his power.

For 'tis the glitter of the throne

That fires most hearts to loyalty.

Now one is eager next the king

To walk before the gaze of men,

And so gain luster for himself;

For greed of glory burns his heart.620

Another from the royal stores

Seeks to supply his own desires;

And yet not all the precious sands

Of Hister's streams could satisfy,

Nor Lydia sate his thirst for gold;

Nor that far land where Zephyr blows,

Which looks in wonder on the gleam625

Of Tagus' golden sands.

Were all the wealth of Hebrus his;

If rich Hydaspes were his own;

If through his fields, with all its stream,

He saw the Ganges flowing: still630

For greed, base greed 'twould not suffice.

One honors kings and courts of kings,

Not that his careful husbandmen

Forever stooping o'er the plow

May never cease their toil for him;

Or that his peasantry may till635

His thousand fields: but wealth alone,

Which he may hoard away, he seeks.

Another worships kings, that so

All other men he may oppress,

May ruin many, none assist;

And with this sole aim covets power,

That he may use it ill.

How few live out their fated span!640

Whom yesternight saw radiant

With joy, the newborn day beholds

In wretched case. How rare it is

To find old age and happiness

Combined. More soft than Tyrian couch,

The greensward soothes to fearless sleep;645

But gilded ceilings break our rest,

And sleepless through the night we lie

On beds of luxury.

Oh, should the rich lay bare their hearts,

What fears which lofty fortune breeds

Would be revealed! The Bruttian coast650

When Corus lashes up the sea

Is calmer far. Not so the poor:

His heart is ever full of peace.

From shallow beechen cups he drinks,

But not with trembling hands; his food

Is cheap and common, but he sees655

No naked sword above his head.

'Tis in the cup of gold alone

That blood is mingled with the wine.

The poor man's wife no necklace wrought

Of costly pearls, the red sea's gift,660

May wear; no gems from eastern shores

Weigh down her ears; nor does she wear

Soft scarlet wools in Tyrian dye

Twice dipped; not hers with Lydian art

To 'broider costly silks whose threads665

The Serians under sunlit skies

From orient treetops gather; she

With common herbs must dye the web

Which she with unskilled hands has wov'n:

But still her husband is her own,670

Her couch by rivals undisturbed.

But favored brides, whose wedding day

The thronging people celebrate,

Fate with her cruel torch pursues.

The poor no happiness can know

Unless he sees the fortunate

From their high station fallen.

Whoever shuns the middle course675

Can never in safe pathways go.

When once bold Phaëthon essayed

Within his father's car to stand

And give the day, and did not fare

Along the accustomed track, but sought

With wandering wheels to make his way680

With Phoebus' torch 'midst unknown stars—

Himself he ruined and the earth

In one destruction. Daedalus

The middle course of heaven pursued,

And so to peaceful shores attained

And gave no sea its name. His son,685

Young Icarus, dared rival birds

In flight, despised his father's wings,

And soared high up into the realm

Of Phoebus' rays: headlong he fell

And to an unknown sea his name

He gave. So are great fortunes joined690

To mighty ills.

Let others then as fortunate

And great be hailed; I wish no share

Of popular renown. My boat

Is frail and needs must hug the shore.

And let no strong wind force my bark695

Far out to sea; for fortune spares

Safe-harbored boats, but seeks the ships

In mid sea proudly sailing on,

Their topsails in the clouds.

But why with pallid face, in fear,700

Like some Bacchante smitten sore

With madness, comes our princess forth?

What new reverse of fortune's wheel

Has come to vex thy tortured soul?

For though thou speakest ne'er a word, poor queen,

Whate'er thou hidest, in thy face is seen.

FOOTNOTES:[27]Reading,celsus.[28]Reading,ripis.[29]Reading,fluentem.

[27]Reading,celsus.

[28]Reading,ripis.

[29]Reading,fluentem.

Deianira[hurrying distractedly out of the palace]: A nameless terror fills my stricken limbs,705My hair stands up in horror, and my soul,But now so passion tossed, is dumb with fear;My heart beats wildly, and my liver throbsWith pulsing veins. As when the storm-tossed sea710Still heaves and swells, although the skies are clearAnd winds have died away; so is my mindStill tossed and restless, though my fear is stayed.When once the fortunate begin to feelThe 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?715Deianira:But now, when I had sent away the robeWith 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 proveThe charm. Fierce Nessus, I bethought me then,Had bidden me to keep the blood from flame;720And 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 sun725I cast the blood-stained remnant of the clothWith which the fatal garment had been smeared.The thing writhed horribly, and burst aflameAs soon as Phoebus warmed it with his rays.Oh, 'tis a dreadful portent that I tell!As when the snows on Mimas' sparkling sidesAre melted by the genial breath of spring;730As on Leucadia's crags the heaving wavesAre dashed and break in foam upon the beach;Or as the incense on the holy shrinesIs melted by the warming altar fires:So did the woolen fragment melt away.735And 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.[Hyllusis seen approaching.]But hither comes my son with face of fear,740And hurrying feet.[ToHyllus.]What tidings dost thou bear?Hyllus:Oh, speed thee, mother, to whatever placeOn land or sea, among the stars of heaven,Or in the depths of hell, can keep thee safeBeyond the deadly reach of Hercules.Deianira:Some great disaster doth my mind presage.745Hyllus: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 given750To 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 soulsAre e'er in haste to know their miseries.Come, tell, what present fate o'erhangs our house?755O 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 raceLifts up the voice of mourning. All the world760Is 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 death765Lies 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 handHas thrown aside her distaff, and in fearRefuses to complete Alcides' fate.770O day, O awful day! and must this beThe 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,775On every side lashed by the tossing waves.Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea,And here rough Auster blows. But on the sideWhich feels the blast of snowy Aquilo,Euripus restless leads his wandering waves;Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high,780Seven times they sink again, before the sunHis weary horses plunges in the sea.Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,An ancient temple of Cenaean JoveGleams far and wide. When at the altars stoodThe votive herd, and all the grove was fullOf hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls;785Then Hercules put off his lion's skinWith 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,790Not falsely called my father, take these giftsAnd let the sacred fire blaze brightly upWith copious incense, which the Arab richFrom Saba's trees in worship of the sunCollects. All monsters of the earth, the sea,The sky have been subdued at last, and I,As victor over all, am home returned.795Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then.But even as he prayed a heavy groanFell from his lips, and he was horror struckAnd mute awhile. And then with dreadful criesHe filled the air. As when a votive bullFeels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax,And flees away, retaining still the steel,And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall;800Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky:So did Alcides smite the very starsAnd sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard,The Cyclades re-echoed with the sound,Caphereus' rocky crags and all the groveResounded with the groans of Hercules.805We saw him weep. The common people deemedHis 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 hands810Upon the altar, even then forestalledThrough deadly fear the bitter pangs of death,And so left meager food for punishment.Then did Alcides grasp the quivering corpseAnd cried: "By such a hand as this, ye fates,Shall it be said that I was overcome?Has Lichas conquered Hercules? See thenAnother slaughter: Hercules in turn815Slays Lichas. Be my noble deeds by thisDishonored; let this be my crowning task."He spake, and high in air the wretched boyWas hurled, the very heavens with his goreBesprinkling. So the Getan arrow flies,Far leaping from the bowman's hand; so fliesThe Cretan dart, but far within the mark.820His 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 rageOf madness; 'gainst myself alone I turn."825He 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 deedsAlcides could not do. Yet striving stillTo tear the garment off, he tore the flesh.The robe seemed part of that gigantic form,830Yea, part and parcel of the flesh itself.The cause of this dire suffering is hid,But yet there is a cause. His pain at lengthUnable to endure, prone on the earthHe grovels; now for cooling water calls.But water has no power to soothe his pain.835He seeks the shore and plunges in the sea,The while his servant's hands direct his steps.Oh, bitter lot, that mighty HerculesShould come to be the mate of common men!And now a vessel from Euboea's shoreBears off the ponderous bulk of Hercules,The gentle southwind wafting it along.840His 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 worldMust he be given back. Vain such appeal.Make then what reparation[33]yet thou mayst:Through this my guilty body let the sword845Be driven. Thus, thus, 'tis well that it be done.But can this puny hand of mine atoneFor crime so great? O sire of Hercules,Destroy me with thy hurtling thunderbolt,Thy guilty daughter. With no common dartArm thine avenging hand; but use that shaftWith which, had Hercules ne'er sprung from thee,850Thou wouldst have scorched the hydra. As a pestUnprecedented smite me, as a scourgeFar worse to bear than any stepdame's wrath.Such bolt as once at wandering PhaëthonThou hurledst, aim at me. For I myselfHave ruined all mankind in Hercules.855But why demand a weapon of the gods?For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wifeShould 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.860Yea, 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 red865With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true;But still its agony can be prolonged.O hesitating soul, thou canst not chooseWhat form of death to die. Oh, that the swordOf Hercules within my chamber hung!How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die!But is't enough that by one hand I fall?870Assemble, 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 kingsTheir scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise875With none to let; again shall shrines be sought,Where worshiper and victim are alikeIn human form. A broad highway for crimeHave I prepared; and, by removing himWho was their bulwark, have exposed mankindTo every form of monstrous man and beastAnd savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work,880O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not,In imitation of thy brother, snatchFrom his own hand the fiery thunderbolt,And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lostGreat praise and mighty triumph by my act:I have forestalled thee, Juno, in the deathOf this thy rival.Hyllus:Wouldst to ruin doomThy house already tottering? This crime,Whate'er it is, is all from error sprung.885He 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.890Hyllus: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?895Deianira: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 restored900Whose 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 darts905Transfixed his sons. Still, though a parricide,Thrice guilty, he forgave himself the deed,Blaming his madness. In Cinyphian wavesIn Libya's land he washed his sin away,And cleansed his hands. Then why, poor soul, shouldst thouSo hastily condemn thine own misdeeds?Deianira:The fact that I have ruined Hercules910Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.Hyllus:If I know Hercules, he soon will comeVictorious 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.915Hyllus:Think'st thou the poison of that serpent, slain,Cannot be overcome by that brave manWho 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.920Shall 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,925And 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 dieIs cruel. Death is sometimes punishment,930But 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 hands935Will 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 sinsThat heart of man has ever dared to do.Nay, Juno's self was never bold enough940To 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 deserved945To be stretched out, O king of Thessaly.Let greedy vultures feed upon my flesh.One from the tale of the DanaïdesIs lacking[34]yet; let me the number fill.Ye shades, make room for me; O Colchian wife,Receive me as thy comrade there below.950My 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 indeedThou shalt discern in me thy daughter true.And yet not one of you has ever done955Such 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' bloodHave stained their hands, who have forgotten quiteTheir marriage vows and stood with naked sword960Like Belus' bloody daughters, they will knowMy deeds for theirs and praise them as their own.To such a company of wives 'tis meetThat I betake myself; but even theyWill shun such dire companionship as mine.O husband, strong, invincible, believeMy soul is innocent, although my handsAre criminal. O mind too credulous!965O 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 artsDost strive to hold the wretched in the light,Begone! for every day is vile to meThat shineth not upon my Hercules.970Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferingsAnd give my life for thee. Or shall I waitAnd keep myself for death at thy right hand?Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy handsStill bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow975No 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.980Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar,And every monster that resisted[35]thee.But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst comeVictorious 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 hand985Dost 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 deriveThy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from theeA greater glory than the life I gave990At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime,Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the swordInto 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.1000Smite: 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 brandishesTwo deadly[36]darts? Why dost thou follow me,1005O 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 hellPassed judgment on me? Lo, I see the doorsOf 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?1010And even as I look the conquered stoneRolls back again. Who on the whirling wheelIs 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.1015But what is this? The earth is tottering,The palace roof is crashing to its fall.Whence comes that threatening throng? Against me comesThe whole world rushing; see, on every sideThe nations gnash at me, demanding backTheir savior. O ye cities, spare, I pray.1020Oh, 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.

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 sea710

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 robeWith 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 proveThe charm. Fierce Nessus, I bethought me then,Had bidden me to keep the blood from flame;720And 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 sun725I cast the blood-stained remnant of the clothWith which the fatal garment had been smeared.The thing writhed horribly, and burst aflameAs soon as Phoebus warmed it with his rays.Oh, 'tis a dreadful portent that I tell!As when the snows on Mimas' sparkling sidesAre melted by the genial breath of spring;730As on Leucadia's crags the heaving wavesAre dashed and break in foam upon the beach;Or as the incense on the holy shrinesIs melted by the warming altar fires:So did the woolen fragment melt away.735And 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.[Hyllusis seen approaching.]But hither comes my son with face of fear,740And hurrying feet.[ToHyllus.]What tidings dost thou bear?

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 sun725

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.

[Hyllusis seen approaching.]

But hither comes my son with face of fear,740

And hurrying feet.

[ToHyllus.]

What tidings dost thou bear?

Hyllus:Oh, speed thee, mother, to whatever placeOn land or sea, among the stars of heaven,Or in the depths of hell, can keep thee safeBeyond the deadly reach of Hercules.

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.

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 given750To 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?

Hyllus:That glory and sole bulwark of the world,

Whom in the place of Jove the fates had given750

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 soulsAre e'er in haste to know their miseries.Come, tell, what present fate o'erhangs our house?755O wretched, wretched house! Now, now indeed,Am I a widow, exiled, fate-o'ercome.

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 raceLifts up the voice of mourning. All the world760Is 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.

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 world760

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 death765Lies my Alcides now.

Deianira:Yet tell me, tell, I pray, how near to death765

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 handHas thrown aside her distaff, and in fearRefuses to complete Alcides' fate.770O day, O awful day! and must this beThe final day for mighty Hercules?

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.

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,775On every side lashed by the tossing waves.Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea,And here rough Auster blows. But on the sideWhich feels the blast of snowy Aquilo,Euripus restless leads his wandering waves;Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high,780Seven times they sink again, before the sunHis weary horses plunges in the sea.Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,An ancient temple of Cenaean JoveGleams far and wide. When at the altars stoodThe votive herd, and all the grove was fullOf hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls;785Then Hercules put off his lion's skinWith 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,790Not falsely called my father, take these giftsAnd let the sacred fire blaze brightly upWith copious incense, which the Arab richFrom Saba's trees in worship of the sunCollects. All monsters of the earth, the sea,The sky have been subdued at last, and I,As victor over all, am home returned.795Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then.But even as he prayed a heavy groanFell from his lips, and he was horror struckAnd mute awhile. And then with dreadful criesHe filled the air. As when a votive bullFeels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax,And flees away, retaining still the steel,And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall;800Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky:So did Alcides smite the very starsAnd sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard,The Cyclades re-echoed with the sound,Caphereus' rocky crags and all the groveResounded with the groans of Hercules.805We saw him weep. The common people deemedHis 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 hands810Upon the altar, even then forestalledThrough deadly fear the bitter pangs of death,And so left meager food for punishment.Then did Alcides grasp the quivering corpseAnd cried: "By such a hand as this, ye fates,Shall it be said that I was overcome?Has Lichas conquered Hercules? See thenAnother slaughter: Hercules in turn815Slays Lichas. Be my noble deeds by thisDishonored; let this be my crowning task."He spake, and high in air the wretched boyWas hurled, the very heavens with his goreBesprinkling. So the Getan arrow flies,Far leaping from the bowman's hand; so fliesThe Cretan dart, but far within the mark.820His 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 rageOf madness; 'gainst myself alone I turn."825He 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 deedsAlcides could not do. Yet striving stillTo tear the garment off, he tore the flesh.The robe seemed part of that gigantic form,830Yea, part and parcel of the flesh itself.The cause of this dire suffering is hid,But yet there is a cause. His pain at lengthUnable to endure, prone on the earthHe grovels; now for cooling water calls.But water has no power to soothe his pain.835He seeks the shore and plunges in the sea,The while his servant's hands direct his steps.Oh, bitter lot, that mighty HerculesShould come to be the mate of common men!And now a vessel from Euboea's shoreBears off the ponderous bulk of Hercules,The gentle southwind wafting it along.840His spirit from his mighty frame has fled,And o'er his eyes have fall'n the shades of night.

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 hands810

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 turn815

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 worldMust he be given back. Vain such appeal.Make then what reparation[33]yet thou mayst:Through this my guilty body let the sword845Be driven. Thus, thus, 'tis well that it be done.But can this puny hand of mine atoneFor crime so great? O sire of Hercules,Destroy me with thy hurtling thunderbolt,Thy guilty daughter. With no common dartArm thine avenging hand; but use that shaftWith which, had Hercules ne'er sprung from thee,850Thou wouldst have scorched the hydra. As a pestUnprecedented smite me, as a scourgeFar worse to bear than any stepdame's wrath.Such bolt as once at wandering PhaëthonThou hurledst, aim at me. For I myselfHave ruined all mankind in Hercules.855But why demand a weapon of the gods?For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wifeShould 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.860Yea, 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 red865With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true;But still its agony can be prolonged.O hesitating soul, thou canst not chooseWhat form of death to die. Oh, that the swordOf Hercules within my chamber hung!How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die!But is't enough that by one hand I fall?870Assemble, 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 kingsTheir scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise875With none to let; again shall shrines be sought,Where worshiper and victim are alikeIn human form. A broad highway for crimeHave I prepared; and, by removing himWho was their bulwark, have exposed mankindTo every form of monstrous man and beastAnd savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work,880O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not,In imitation of thy brother, snatchFrom his own hand the fiery thunderbolt,And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lostGreat praise and mighty triumph by my act:I have forestalled thee, Juno, in the deathOf this thy rival.

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 sword845

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 red865

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 rise875

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 doomThy house already tottering? This crime,Whate'er it is, is all from error sprung.885He is not guilty who unwitting sins.

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.

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.

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 restored900Whose guilt in judgment not in action lay.Who blames the lot by fate assigned to him?

Hyllus:The life of many a man has been restored900

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 darts905Transfixed his sons. Still, though a parricide,Thrice guilty, he forgave himself the deed,Blaming his madness. In Cinyphian wavesIn Libya's land he washed his sin away,And cleansed his hands. Then why, poor soul, shouldst thouSo hastily condemn thine own misdeeds?

Hyllus:But Hercules himself killed Megara,

And by his raging hands with deadly darts905

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 Hercules910Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.

Deianira:The fact that I have ruined Hercules910

Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.

Hyllus:If I know Hercules, he soon will comeVictorious over all his deadly woe;And agony, o'ercome, will yield to him.

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

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 manWho 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.920Shall he, who overcame dread Nessus' self,By this same Nessus' blood be overcome?

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.

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,925And by these breasts which suckled thee, I beg:Abate thy wounded heart's wild threatenings,Give o'er thy dread resolve for cruel death.

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 dieIs cruel. Death is sometimes punishment,930But oft a boon, and brings forgiveness oft.

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.

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 hands935Will 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 sinsThat heart of man has ever dared to do.Nay, Juno's self was never bold enough940To 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 deserved945To be stretched out, O king of Thessaly.Let greedy vultures feed upon my flesh.One from the tale of the DanaïdesIs lacking[34]yet; let me the number fill.Ye shades, make room for me; O Colchian wife,Receive me as thy comrade there below.950My 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 indeedThou shalt discern in me thy daughter true.And yet not one of you has ever done955Such 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' bloodHave stained their hands, who have forgotten quiteTheir marriage vows and stood with naked sword960Like Belus' bloody daughters, they will knowMy deeds for theirs and praise them as their own.To such a company of wives 'tis meetThat I betake myself; but even theyWill shun such dire companionship as mine.O husband, strong, invincible, believeMy soul is innocent, although my handsAre criminal. O mind too credulous!965O 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 artsDost strive to hold the wretched in the light,Begone! for every day is vile to meThat shineth not upon my Hercules.970Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferingsAnd give my life for thee. Or shall I waitAnd keep myself for death at thy right hand?Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy handsStill bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow975No 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.980Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar,And every monster that resisted[35]thee.But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst comeVictorious and safe.

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 hands935

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 enough940

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 deserved945

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 done955

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 sword960

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 bow975

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.

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 hand985Dost 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 deriveThy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from theeA greater glory than the life I gave990At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime,Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the swordInto 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.1000Smite: 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 brandishesTwo deadly[36]darts? Why dost thou follow me,1005O 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 hellPassed judgment on me? Lo, I see the doorsOf 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?1010And even as I look the conquered stoneRolls back again. Who on the whirling wheelIs 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.1015But what is this? The earth is tottering,The palace roof is crashing to its fall.Whence comes that threatening throng? Against me comesThe whole world rushing; see, on every sideThe nations gnash at me, demanding backTheir savior. O ye cities, spare, I pray.1020Oh, 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.

Deianira:My son, if thou wouldst truly filial be,

Come, slay thy mother. Why with trembling hand985

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 gave990

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 tragedy1025Is 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

Hyllus:Ah me, in mood of frenzy has she fled.

My mother's part in this sad tragedy1025

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 trueWhich once on Thracian Rhodope,Orpheus, the heavenly Muse's son,Sang to his lute Pierian:That naught for endless life is made.1035At his sweet strains the rushing streamIts uproar stilled, and all its wavesPaused in forgetfulness of flight;And while the waters stayed to hear,1040The tribes far down the Hebrus' streamDeemed that their river was no more.All wingéd creatures of the woodAnd e'en the woods themselves came nearTo listen; or, if far on highSome bird was wheeling through the air,1045To that sweet music swift he fellOn drooping wings. The mountains came:Rough Athos with its Centaur herd,And Rhodope, its drifted snowsLoosed by the magic of that song,1050Stood by to hear. The Dryads leftThe shelter of their oaken trunksAnd gathered round the tuneful bard.The beasts came, too, and with them came1055Their lairs; hard by the fearless flocksThe tawny Afric lion crouched;The timid does feared not the wolves;And serpents crawled forth to the light,Their venom quite forgot.1060When through the doors of TaenaraHe made his way to the silent land,Sounding his mournful lyre the while,The glooms of Tartara were filledWith his sad song; and the sullen godsOf Erebus were moved to tears.1065He feared not the pool of the Stygian streamBy whose dread waves the heavenly godsMake oath unbreakable.The whirling rim of the restless wheelStood still, its breathless speed at rest.1070The immortal liver of TityosGrew, undevoured, while at the songThe spellbound birds forgot their greed.Thou, too, didst hear, O boatman grim,And thy bark that plies the infernal streamWith oars all motionless came on.Then first the hoary Phrygian1075Forgot his thirst, although no moreThe mocking waters fled his lipsBut stood enchanted; now no moreHe reaches hungry hands to graspThe luscious fruit.When thus through that dark world of soulsSweet Orpheus poured such heavenly strains1080That the impious rock of SisyphusWas moved to follow him;Then did the goddesses of fateRenew the exhausted thread of lifeFor fair Eurydice. But when,Unmindful of the law they gave,1085And scarce believing that his wifeWas following, the hapless manLooked back, he lost his prize of song;For she, who to the very vergeOf life had come again, fell backAnd died again.Then, seeking solace still in song,1090Orpheus unto the Getans sang:The gods themselves are under law,Yea he, who through the changing yearDirects the seasons in their course.1095Dead Hercules bids us believeThe bard, that not for any manThe fates reweave the broken web;And that all things which have been born,1100And shall be, are but born to die.When to the world the day shall comeOn which the reign of law shall cease,Then shall the southern heavens fall,And overwhelm broad Africa1105With all her tribes; the northern skiesShall fall upon those barren plainsWhere sweep the blasts of Boreas.Then from the shattered heaven the sunShall fall, and day shall be no more.1110The palace of the heavenly onesShall sink in ruins, dragging downThe east and western skies. Then deathAnd chaos shall o'erwhelm the gods1115In 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 doorsTo let the shattered heavens in?1120Or is the space 'twixt heaven and earthNot great enough (perchance too great)For all the evils of the world?What place is great enough to holdSuch monstrous ills of fate?[37]What placeWill hold the gods? Shall one place then1125Contain three kingdoms—sea and skyAnd Tartara?—But what outrageous clamor thisThat fills our frightened ears? Behold,It is the voice of Hercules.1130

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 came1055

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 Phrygian1075

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 strains1080

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 yearDirects the seasons in their course.1095

The gods themselves are under law,

Yea he, who through the changing year

Directs the seasons in their course.1095

Dead Hercules bids us believeThe bard, that not for any manThe fates reweave the broken web;And that all things which have been born,1100And shall be, are but born to die.When to the world the day shall comeOn which the reign of law shall cease,Then shall the southern heavens fall,And overwhelm broad Africa1105With all her tribes; the northern skiesShall fall upon those barren plainsWhere sweep the blasts of Boreas.Then from the shattered heaven the sunShall fall, and day shall be no more.1110The palace of the heavenly onesShall sink in ruins, dragging downThe east and western skies. Then deathAnd chaos shall o'erwhelm the gods1115In 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 doorsTo let the shattered heavens in?1120Or is the space 'twixt heaven and earthNot great enough (perchance too great)For all the evils of the world?What place is great enough to holdSuch monstrous ills of fate?[37]What placeWill hold the gods? Shall one place then1125Contain three kingdoms—sea and skyAnd Tartara?—But what outrageous clamor thisThat fills our frightened ears? Behold,It is the voice of Hercules.1130

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 Africa1105

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 gods1115

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 then1125

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

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