Chapter 15

FOOTNOTES:[30]Lines 725-28 follow the text of Schroeder.[31]Reading,funus.[32]Reading,quid stupes factum scelus?[33]Reading,reddi.[34]Reading,vacat.[35]Reading,restitit.[36]Reading,atras.[37]Reading,fati.ACT IV[EnterHerculesin the extremity of suffering.]Hercules:Turn back thy panting steeds, thou shining sun,And bid the night come forth. Blot out the day,And let the heavens, with pitchy darkness filled,Conceal my dying pains from Juno's eyes.Now, father, were it fitting to recallDark chaos; now the joinings of the skies1135Should be asunder rent, and pole from poleBe cleft. Why, father, dost thou spare the stars?Thy Hercules is lost. Now, Jupiter,Look well to every region of the heavens,Lest any Gyas hurl again the cragsOf Thessaly, and Othrys be again1140An easy missile for Enceladus.Now, even now will haughty Pluto looseThe gates of hell, strike off his father's chains,And give him back to heaven. Since Hercules,Who on the earth has seen thy thunderboltAnd lightning flash, must turn him back to Styx;Enceladus the fierce will rise again,1145And hurl against the gods that mighty weightWhich now oppresses him. O Jupiter,My death throughout the kingdom of the skyShall shake thy sovereignty. Then, ere thy throneBecome the giants' spoil, give burialBeneath the ruined universe to me;Oh, rend thy kingdom ere 'tis rent from thee.1150Chorus:No empty fears, O Thunderer's son,Dost thou express: for soon againShall Pelion on Ossa rest;And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrustIts woods amidst the stars of heaven.Then shall Typhoeus heave aside1155The crags of Tuscan Ischia;Enceladus, not yet o'ercomeBy thunderbolts, shall bear aloftThe huge Aetnaean furnaces,And rend the gaping mountain side.So shall it be; for even nowThe skies are tottering with thy fall.1160Hercules:Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's poolReturned with spoil so grim and terrible,That Titan from his reeling chariotWas well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword1165Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;No giant with his fierce and gaping jawsHas heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed;1170And, what brings greater anguish to my soul(Shame to my manhood!), this my final dayHas seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me!My life is squandered—and for no return.O thou, whose rule is over all the world;Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules1175Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!Oh, base and bitter end—that fame should sayGreat Hercules was by a woman slain,He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38]So many men and beasts! If changeless fateHad willed that I by woman's hand should die,1180And if to such base end my thread of life,Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallenBy Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,But one who holds the heavens in her sway.If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skiesBrought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.But by what woman's hand shall I be said,1185Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy?What baleful thing like this has earth producedTo sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hateHas far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame,1190To feel thyself by Hercules aloneOutmatched; but now must thou confess thyselfBy two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath!Oh, that the Nemean lion of my bloodHad drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fedThe hydra with his hundred snaky headsUpon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce1195Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shadesI, bound upon the everlasting rock,Were sitting, lost in misery! But no:From every distant land I've taken spoil,While fate looked on amazed; from hellish StyxHave I come back to earth; the bonds of DisI have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere,1200That I might lack at last a glorious end.Alas for all the monsters I have slain!Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus,When he had seen the sunlight, drag me backTo hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies,Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low?And those twin serpents huge—ah, woe is me,How often have I 'scaped a glorious death!1205What honor comes from such an endasthis?Chorus:Dost see how, conscious of his fame,He does not shrink from Lethe's stream?Not grief for death, but shame he feelsAt this his cause of death; he longsBeneath some giant's vasty bulk1210To draw his final breath, to feelSome mountain-heaving Titan's weightOppressing him, to owe his deathTo some wild, raging beast. But no,Poor soul, because of thine own handThere is no deadly monster more.1215What worthy author of thy death,Save that right hand of thine, is left?Hercules:Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, tornFrom Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast?My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood,1220Are dry and empty now; my liver burns,Its healthy juices parched and dried away;And all my blood is by slow creeping firesConsumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first,Then deep within my flesh it eats its way,1225Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes,Dries up the very marrow of my bones.There in my empty bones the pest remains;Nor can my massive frame for long endure,But even now, with broken, crumbling joints,Begins to fall away. My strength is gone,1230And e'en the limbs of mighty HerculesAre not enough to satisfy this pest.Alas, how mighty must that evil be,When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong!Now see, ye cities, see what now remainsOf famous Hercules. Dost know thy son,O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these1235That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life?Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mineWhich brought to earth from out the very starsThe vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet—Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag,With golden antlers gleaming on his head?Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands,1240Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts,So many cruel men, so many kings—Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all?Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest?Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck?Are these the hands which once the tottering skiesUpheld? Oh, can it be that ever IThe Stygian watchdog dragged into the light?1245Where are those powers, which ere their proper timeAre dead and buried? Why on JupiterAs father do I call? Why, wretched one,Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him?For now, Oh, now will I be thought the sonOf old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,Come forth. Why with a hidden agony1250Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian seaBeneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shoreBegot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!Art thou some crested serpent brandishingIts hideous head; or some fell thing of ill1255As yet unknown to me, produced perchanceFrom Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earthBy Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.What are thy form and features? Grant at leastThat I may know the thing by which I die.Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou,1260Come out, and show thy terror to my face.What enemy has made a way for theeUnto my inmost heart? Behold my handsHave torn aside my burning skin and soMy bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yetIts hiding-place. Oh, woe invincibleAs Hercules! But whence these grievous cries?1265And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?My face, unmoved by grief, has never yetBeen wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,That has beheld the tears of Hercules?Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone1270That strength has yielded which so many illsHas overcome. Thou first, yea, first of allHast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,Or than the wandering Symplegades,Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world,1275O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,Has seen me giving way to tears and groans;And, that which brings me greater anguish still,My stepdame too has seen. But lo, againThe scorching heat flames up and burns my heart.Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.Chorus:Where is the strength that can withstandThe power of suffering? But nowMore hard than Thracian Haemus' crags,1280Sterner than savage northern skies,He is by agony subdued.His fainting head upon his breastFalls low; his massive frame he shiftsFrom side to side; now and againHis manly courage dries his tears.1285So, with however warm a flameBright Titan labors to dissolveThe arctic snows, still are his firesBy those bright, icy rays outshone.Hercules:O father, turn and look upon my woes.1290Never till now has great Alcides fledTo thee for aid; not when around my limbsThe deadly hydra, fertile in its death,Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the poolsOf hell, by that thick pall of death I stoodSurrounded close; and yet I called thee not.How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome,1295How many kings and tyrants; yet my faceHave I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky.This hand of mine alone has been the godWho heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderboltsHave ever flashed from heaven on my account.But now at last has come a woeful timeWhich bids me ask for aid. This day, the first1300And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules.One thunderbolt I ask, and only one.Consider me a giant storming heaven.Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth;But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies.Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful,1305Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death,And gain this great renown unto thy name.Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a taskSo impious, send forth from SicilyThose burning Titans, who with giant handsMay Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too,1310And overwhelm me with their crushing weight.Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell,And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart;Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death;He is my brother; true, but Juno's son.Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and soAlcides' sister, bright Athene, come,1315And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast.And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's handI may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thouStill nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge?1320Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray.O lands, and countless cities of the earth,1325Is there no one among you all to bringA blazing torch for mighty Hercules?Will no one give me arms? Why take awayMy weapons from my hands? Then let no landBring forth dire monsters more when I am dead,And let the world not ask for aid of mine.If other ills are born into the world,Then must another savior come as well.1330Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every sideAnd hurl them at my wretched head; and soO'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world,Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite?Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless preyTo evil monsters, had not I been born.Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill,1335Your champion. This chance is given you,By slaying me to cancel all you owe.[EnterAlcmena.]Alcmena:Where shall Alcides' wretched mother go?Where is my son? Lo, if I see aright,Yonder he lies with burning fever tossedAnd throbbing heart. I hear his groans of pain.1340Ah me, his life is at an end. My son,Come, let me fold thee in a last embrace,And catch thy parting spirit in my mouth;These arms of mine upon thine own I'll lay.But where are they? Where is that sturdy neckWhich bore the burden of the starry heavens?What cause has left to thee so small a partOf thy once massive frame?1345Hercules:Thou seest, indeed,The shadow and the piteous counterfeitOf thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son.But why dost turn away and hide thy face?Art thou ashamed that such as I am calledThy son?Alcmena:What land, what world has given birthTo this new monster? What so dire a thing1350Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?Hercules:By my own wife's deceits am I undone.Alcmena:What fraud is great enough to conquer thee?Hercules:Whate'eris great enough for woman's wrath.Alcmena:How got the pest so deep within thy frame?1355Hercules:Through a poisoned robe sent by a woman's hands.Alcmena:Where is the robe? I see thy limbs are bare.Hercules:With me 'tis all consumed.Alcmena:How can it be?Hercules:I tell thee, mother, through my vitals roamThe hydra and a thousand poisonous beasts.1360What flames as hot as these invade the cloudsO'er Aetna's top? What glowing Lemnian fires,What torrid radiance of the burning heavens,Within whose scorching zone the day comes not?O comrades, take and throw me in the sea,Or in the river's rushing stream—alas,1365Where is the stream that will suffice for me?Though greater than all lands, not ocean's selfCan cool my burning pains. To ease my woeAll streams were not enough, all springs would fail.Why, O thou lord of Erebus, didst thouTo Jove return me? Better had it beenTo hold me fast. Oh, take me back again,1370And show me as I am to those fell shadesWhom I subdued. Naught will I take away.Thou hast no need to fear Alcides more.Come death, attack me; have no fear of me;For I at length am fain to welcome thee.Alcmena:Restrain thy tears at least; subdue thy pains.Come, show thyself unconquered still by woe;1375And death and hell, as is thy wont, defy.Hercules:If on the heights of Caucasus I layIn chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed,While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me,No sound of woe should issue from my lips;Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades1380Together clash and threaten me with death,I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony.Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too,Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas,And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurledThe bolts of Jove—if e'en the sky itself1385Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' carIn blazing torture on my shoulders lie:No coward cry of pain would ever showThe mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more:Although a thousand monstrous beasts at onceShould rush upon and rend me limb from limb;Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild,1390And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;Nay, though the very soil of earth should riseAnd shriek[39]its rage at me from every side;Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:Though sore bestead and mangled, still would IIn silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,No weapon wielded by the hand of man,Could force from me a single word of pain.1395Alcmena:No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;But thy long years of work, thy constant toils,Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.Hercules:Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be?Does any evil still upon the earthExist, with me alive? But let it come.Let someone quickly bring my bow to me—1400But no: my naked hands will be enough.Now bid the monster come.Alcmena:Alas, his pains,Too great, have reft his senses quite away.Remove his weapons, take those deadly shaftsOut of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks1405Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I,A helpless, agéd woman hide myself?That grief of his has changed to maddened rage,And that alone is master of him now.Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am,Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave handAlcmena has deserved to meet her death.So let me perish even impiously,1410Before some craven soul command my death,Or some base creature triumph over me.But see, outworn by woe, his weary heartIs in the soothing bonds of slumber bound;His panting chest with labored breathing heaves.Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me1415Have willed to take my glorious son, at leastSpare to the world, I pray, its champion.Let all his pains depart, and once againLet great Alcides' frame renew its strength.[EnterHyllus.]Hyllus:O bitter light, O day with evil filled!Dead is the Thunderer's daughter, and his son1420Lies dying. I alone of all survive.By my own mother's crime my father dies,But she by guile was snared. What agéd man,Throughout the round of years, in all his life,Will e'er be able to recount such woes?One day has snatched away my parents both.1425But though I say naught of my other ills,And cease to blame the fates, still must I say:My sire, the mighty Hercules, is gone.Alcmena:Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire,And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief;Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain.But see, repose deserts his weary heart,1430And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.Hercules[awakening in delirium]: Why, what is this? Do I with waking eyesSee little Trachin on her craggy seat,Or, set amongst the stars, have I at lengthEscaped the race of men? Who opes for meThe gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see,1435Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased.What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears?Great Juno calls me son! Now I beholdThe gleaming palace of the heavenly world,And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels.[Beginning to come out of his delirium.]I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence.1440But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven,And from the stars, O father, leads me down?I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face,So near to heaven was I; but now, alas,'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earthHas given me back again? A moment since,1445And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below,And all the world was lying at my feet.How sweet the respite that I had from thee,O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess—but stay,Let not such shameful words escape thy lips.[ToHyllus.]This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift.Oh, that I might crush out her guilty lifeWith my great club, as once the Amazons1450I smote upon the snowy Caucasus.O well-loved Megara, to think that thouWast wife of mine when in that fit I fellOf maddened rage! Give me my club and bow;Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blotLet me destroy the luster of my praise—My latest conquest on a woman gained!1455Hyllus:Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath;She has her wound—'tis over—and has paidThe penalty which thou wouldst have her pay:For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.Hercules:O grief, still with me! She deserved to dieBeneath the hands of angry Hercules.1460O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death.So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpseI still would rage. Why does her body lieSecure from my assaults? Go cast it outTo be a banquet for the birds of prey.Hyllus:She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish.Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died.1465But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit,Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low.By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived,Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life.'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped,1470And by thy pains he doth requite his own.Hercules:Then truly are his pains well recompensed,And my own doubtful oracles explained.This fate the talking oak foretold to me,And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voiceShook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes:1475"By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land,And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee."Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet;Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules1480Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my deathBe glorious, illustrious, renowned,And worthy of myself. This final dayWill I make famous in the ears of men.Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's grovesBring hither, that a mighty funeral pyreMay hold great Hercules before he dies.And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask1485To do this last, sad office for thy friend,And all the sky illumine with the flamesOf Hercules. And now to thee this prayer,This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make:Among my captives is a beauteous maid,Of noble breeding and of royal birth.'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus.1490Her would I have thee to thy chamber leadWith fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood,Victorious, I robbed her of her homeAnd fatherland; and in return, poor girl,Naught save Alcides have I given her;And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woesIn the embrace of him who boasts the blood1495Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seedShe has conceived of me let her to theeBring forth.[ToAlcmena.]And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray,For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives;And by my might have I my stepdame madeTo seem but as the concubine of Jove.1500Whether the story of the night prolongedAt Hercules' begetting be the truth,Or whether I was got of mortal sire—Though I be falsely called the son of Jove,I have indeed deserved to be his son;For I have honored him, and to his praise1505My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himselfIs proud that he is held to be my sire.Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt beOf high degree among Argolic dames.For no such son as thine has Juno borne,Though she may wield the scepter of the skies,1510The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven,She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth,And wished that she might call him son of hers.Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone;For I, who have thy constant comrade been,Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades.Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise:1515That openly no monster conquered me,But that I conquered all—and openly.Chorus:Bright sun, thou glory of the world,At whose first rays wan HecateUnyokes the weary steeds of night,1520To east and west the message tell;To those who suffer 'neath the Bear,And who, beneath thy burning carAre tortured: Hercules preparesTo speed him to the world of shades,1525The realm of sleepless Cerberus,Whence he will[40]ne'er again return.Let thy bright rays be overcastWith clouds; gaze on the mourning worldWith pallid face; and let thy headIn thick and murky mists be veiled.1530When, Titan, where, beneath what sky,Shalt thou behold upon the earthAnother such as Hercules?Whom shall the wretched land invoke,If any hundred-headed pest,In Lerna born, spring up anew1535And spread destruction; if againSome boar in ancient ArcadyInfest the woods; or if againSome son of Thracian Rhodope,With heart more hard than the frozen landsThat lie 'neath snowy Helice,Should stain his stalls with human gore?1540Who will give peace to the trembling folkIf angry gods with monstrous birthShould curse the world again? Behold,The mate for common man he lies,Whom earth produced a mate for Jove.Let lamentations loud resound1545Through all the world; with streaming hairLet women smite their naked arms;Let all the temples of the godsBe closed save Juno's; she aloneIs free from care.To Lethe and the Stygian shore1550Now art thou going, whence no keelWill ever bring thee back. Thou goest,Lamented one, unto the shades,Whence, death o'ercome, thou once return'dstIn triumph with thy prize; but now,An empty shade, with fleshless arms,Wan face, and slender, drooping neck,1555Thou goest back. Nor will the skiff(Which once bore only thee and fearedThat even so 'twould be o'erturned)Bear thee alone across the stream.But not with common shades shalt thouBe herded. Thou with Aeacus[41]And pious kings of Crete shalt sitIn judgment on the deeds of men,And punish tyrants. O ye kings,1560Be merciful, restrain your hands.'Tis worthy praise to keep the swordUnstained with blood; while thou didst reign,Upon thy realm to have allowedLeast privilege to bloody[42]fate.But place among the stars is givenTo manly virtue. Shalt thou hold1565Thy seat within the northern skies,Or where his fiercest rays the sunSends forth? Or in the balmy westWilt shine, where thou mayst hear the wavesOn Calpe's shore resound? What placeIn heaven serene shalt thou obtain?1570When great Alcides is receivedAmong the stars, who will be freeFrom fear? May Jove assign thy placeFar from the raging Lion's seat,And burning Crab, lest at sight of theeThe frightened stars confuse their lawsAnd Titan quake with fear.1575So long as blooming flowers shall comeWith wakening spring; while winter's frostsStrip bare the trees, and summer sunsReclothe them with their wonted green;While in the autumn ripened fruitsFall to the ground: no lapse of time1580Shall e'er destroy thy memoryUpon the earth. For thou shalt liveAs comrade of the sun and stars.Sooner shall wheat grow in the sea,Or stormy straits with gentle wavesBeat on the shore; sooner descendThe Bear from out his frozen skyAnd bathe him in forbidden waves:1585Than shall the thankful people ceaseTo sing thy praise.And now to thee,O father of the world, we pray:Let no dread beast be born on earth,No monstrous pest; keep this poor worldFrom abject fear of heartless kings;Let no one hold the reins of power1590Who deems his kingdom's glory liesIn the terror of his naked sword.But if again some thing of dreadAppear upon the earth, Oh, give,We pray, another champion.But what is this? The heavens resound.1595Behold Alcides' father mourns,He mourns his son. Or is't the soundOf grieving gods, or the cry of fearOf the timid stepdame? Can it beThat at the sight of HerculesGreat Juno flees the stars? PerchanceBeneath the added weight of heavenTall Atlas reels. Or do the shades1600Cry out in fear of Hercules,While Cerberus with broken chainsIn panic flees the sight? Not so:Behold, 'tis Poeas' son, who comesWith looks of gladness. See, he bearsThe well-known quiver and the shafts1605Of Hercules.FOOTNOTES:[38]Reading,auctor.[39]Reading,fremens.[40]Reading,remeabit.[41]Reading,Aeacon.[42]Reading,minimum cruentis.ACT V[EnterPhiloctetes.]Nurse:Speak out, good youth, and tell the end, I pray,Of Hercules. How did he meet his death?Philoctetes:More gladly than another meets his life.Nurse:What? Did he then rejoice him in the fire?Philoctetes:He showed that burning flames were naught to him.1610What is there in the world which HerculesHas left unconquered? He has vanquished all.Nurse:What chance for glory on the funeral pyre?Philoctetes:One evil thing remained upon the earthWhich he had not o'ercome—the power of fire.1615But this has now been added to the beasts,And fire is one of great Alcides' toils.Nurse:But tell us in what way he conquered fire.Philoctetes:When all his sorrowing friends began to fellThe trees on Oeta's slopes, beneath one handThe beech-tree lost its foliage and lay,Its mighty trunk prone on the ground. One handWith deadly stroke attacked the towering pine,1620Which lifted to the stars its threatening top,And called it from the clouds. In act to fall,It shook its rocky crag, and with a crashWhelmed all the lesser forest in its fall.Within the forest was a certain oak,Wide-spreading, vast, like that Chaonian treeOf prophecy, whose shade shuts out the sun,Embracing all the grove[43]within its arms.1625By many a blow beset, it groans at firstIn threatening wise, and all the wedges breaks;The smiting axe bounds back, its edges dulled,Too soft for such a task. At length the tree,Long wavering, falls with widespread ruin down.Straightway the place admits the sun's bright rays;1630The birds, their tree o'erthrown, fly twittering round,And seek their vanished homes on wearied wing.Now every tree resounds; even the oaksFeel in their sacred sides the piercing steel,Nor does its ancient sanctity protect1635The grove. The wood into a pile is heaped;Its logs alternate rising high aloft,Make all too small a pyre for Hercules:The pine inflammable, tough-fibered oak,The ilex' shorter trunks. But poplar trees,1640Whose foliage adorned Alcides' brow,Fill up the space and make the pyre complete.But he, like some great lion in the woodsOf Libya lying, roaring out his pain,Is borne along—but who would e'er believeThat he was hurrying to his funeral pyre?His gaze was fixed upon the stars of heaven,1645Not fires of earth, when to the mount he cameAnd with his eyes surveyed the mighty pyre.The great beams groaned and broke beneath his weight.Now he demands his bow. "Take this," he said,"O son of Poeas, take this as the giftAnd pledge of love from Hercules to thee.These deadly shafts the poisonous hydra felt;1650With these the vile Stymphalian birds lie low;And every other monster which I slewWith distant aim. O noble youth, go onIn victory, for never 'gainst thy foesShalt thou send these in vain. Wouldst wish to bringBirds from the very clouds? Down shall they fall,And with them come thine arrows sure of prey.1655This bow shall never disappoint thy hand.Well has it learned to poise the feathered shaftAnd send it flying in unerring course.The shafts themselves as well, loosed from the string,Have never failed to find their destined mark.But do thou in return, my only prayer,Bring now the funeral torch and light the pyre.1660This club," he said, "which never hand but mineHas wielded, shall the flames consume with me.This weapon, only, shall to HerculesBelong. But this, too, thou shouldst have from meIf thou couldst bear its weight. But let it serveTo aid its master's pyre." Then he required1665The shaggy spoil of the dire Nemean beastTo burn with him. The huge skin hid the pyre.Now all the gazing crowd begin to groan,And tears of woe to fall from every eye.His mother bares her breast in eager griefAnd smites her body stripped e'en to the loins1670For unrestrained lament; then all the godsAnd Jupiter himself she supplicates,While all the place re-echoes with her shrieks."Thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules,O mother, check thy tears," Alcides said;"Within thy heart thy woman's grief confine.Why shouldst thou make this day a time of joy1675For Juno with thy tears? For she, be sure,Rejoices to behold her rival weep.Then this unworthy grief, my mother, check.It is not meet to abuse the breast that nursed,And the womb that bore Alcides." Thus he spake;Then with a dreadful cry, as when he led1680The awful dog throughout the towns of Greece,Returned triumphant o'er the shades of hell,Scorning the lord of death and death itself,So did he lay him down upon the pyre.What victor in his chariot ever shoneWith such triumphant joy? What tyrant kingWith such a countenance e'er uttered lawsUnto his subject tribes? So deep his calm1685Of soul. All tears were dried, our sorrows shamedTo silence, and we groaned no more to thinkThat he must perish. E'en Alcmena's self,Whose sex is prone to mourn, now tearless stood,A worthy mother of her noble son.1690Nurse:But did he, on the verge of death, no prayerTo heaven breathe, no aid from Jove implore?Philoctetes:With peaceful soul he lay, and scanned the skies,As searching from what quarter of the heavensHis sire would look on him, and thus he spake,1695With hands outstretched: "O father, whencesoe'erFrom heaven thou lookest down upon thy son—He truly is my father for whose sakeOne day of old was swallowed up in night—If both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise,If Scythia, and all the sun-parched lands;1700If peace fills all the world; if cities groanBeneath no tyrant's hand, and no one stainsWith blood of guests his impious altar stones;If horrid crimes have ceased: then, take, I pray,My spirit to the skies. I have no fearOf death, nor do the gloomy realms of Dis1705Affright my soul; but Oh, I blush with shameTo go, a naked shade, unto those godsWhom I myself aforetime overcame.Dispel the clouds and ope the gates of heaven,That all the gods may see Alcides burn.Though thou refuse me place among the stars,Thou shalt be forced to grant my prayer. Ah no:1710If grief can palliate my impious words,Forgive; spread wide the Stygian pools for me,And give me up to death. But first, O sire,Approve thy son. This day at least shall showThat I am worthy of the skies. All deedsWhich I have done before seem worthless now;1715This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn."When he had spoken thus he called for fire:"Come hither now, comrade of Hercules,With willing hand take up the funeral torch.Why dost thou tremble? Does thy timid handShrink from the deed as from an impious crime?Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak.1720Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow?Why does such pallor sit upon thy cheeks?Come, ply the torch with that same fortitudeThat thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take,Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death.But lo, my father calls me from the skyAnd opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!"1725And as he spake his face was glorified.Then did I with my trembling hand applyThe blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back,And will not touch his limbs. But HerculesPursues the fleeing fires. You would supposeThat Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze,1730Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heardSave only that the flames made loud lament.O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placedUpon that pyre, or bold Enceladus,Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back,He would have groaned aloud in agony.1735But Hercules amidst the roaring flamesStood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze,And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for theeBeside the pyre of Hercules to stand.Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seemIn very truth Alcides' mother." There,1740'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood,Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain,Encouraging, advising, active still.His own brave spirit animated all.You would have thought him burning with desireTo burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe,And scarce believed the flames to be true fire,1745So calm and so majestic was his mien.Nor did he hasten to consume himself;But when he deemed that fortitude enoughWas shown in death, from every hand he draggedThe burning logs which with least ardor glowed,Piled them together in a mighty fire,1750And to the very center of the blazeThe dauntless hero went. Awhile he stoodAnd feasted on the flames his eager eyes.Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire.But even when the flames assailed his face,And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues,He did not close his eyes.1755But what is this?'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woeShe makes her way, while in her breast she bearsThe pitiful remains of Hercules.[EnterAlcmena,carrying in her bosom a funeral urn.]

[30]Lines 725-28 follow the text of Schroeder.

[31]Reading,funus.

[32]Reading,quid stupes factum scelus?

[33]Reading,reddi.

[34]Reading,vacat.

[35]Reading,restitit.

[36]Reading,atras.

[37]Reading,fati.

[EnterHerculesin the extremity of suffering.]

Hercules:Turn back thy panting steeds, thou shining sun,And bid the night come forth. Blot out the day,And let the heavens, with pitchy darkness filled,Conceal my dying pains from Juno's eyes.Now, father, were it fitting to recallDark chaos; now the joinings of the skies1135Should be asunder rent, and pole from poleBe cleft. Why, father, dost thou spare the stars?Thy Hercules is lost. Now, Jupiter,Look well to every region of the heavens,Lest any Gyas hurl again the cragsOf Thessaly, and Othrys be again1140An easy missile for Enceladus.Now, even now will haughty Pluto looseThe gates of hell, strike off his father's chains,And give him back to heaven. Since Hercules,Who on the earth has seen thy thunderboltAnd lightning flash, must turn him back to Styx;Enceladus the fierce will rise again,1145And hurl against the gods that mighty weightWhich now oppresses him. O Jupiter,My death throughout the kingdom of the skyShall shake thy sovereignty. Then, ere thy throneBecome the giants' spoil, give burialBeneath the ruined universe to me;Oh, rend thy kingdom ere 'tis rent from thee.1150Chorus:No empty fears, O Thunderer's son,Dost thou express: for soon againShall Pelion on Ossa rest;And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrustIts woods amidst the stars of heaven.Then shall Typhoeus heave aside1155The crags of Tuscan Ischia;Enceladus, not yet o'ercomeBy thunderbolts, shall bear aloftThe huge Aetnaean furnaces,And rend the gaping mountain side.So shall it be; for even nowThe skies are tottering with thy fall.1160Hercules:Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's poolReturned with spoil so grim and terrible,That Titan from his reeling chariotWas well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword1165Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;No giant with his fierce and gaping jawsHas heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed;1170And, what brings greater anguish to my soul(Shame to my manhood!), this my final dayHas seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me!My life is squandered—and for no return.O thou, whose rule is over all the world;Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules1175Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!Oh, base and bitter end—that fame should sayGreat Hercules was by a woman slain,He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38]So many men and beasts! If changeless fateHad willed that I by woman's hand should die,1180And if to such base end my thread of life,Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallenBy Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,But one who holds the heavens in her sway.If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skiesBrought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.But by what woman's hand shall I be said,1185Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy?What baleful thing like this has earth producedTo sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hateHas far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame,1190To feel thyself by Hercules aloneOutmatched; but now must thou confess thyselfBy two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath!Oh, that the Nemean lion of my bloodHad drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fedThe hydra with his hundred snaky headsUpon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce1195Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shadesI, bound upon the everlasting rock,Were sitting, lost in misery! But no:From every distant land I've taken spoil,While fate looked on amazed; from hellish StyxHave I come back to earth; the bonds of DisI have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere,1200That I might lack at last a glorious end.Alas for all the monsters I have slain!Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus,When he had seen the sunlight, drag me backTo hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies,Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low?And those twin serpents huge—ah, woe is me,How often have I 'scaped a glorious death!1205What honor comes from such an endasthis?Chorus:Dost see how, conscious of his fame,He does not shrink from Lethe's stream?Not grief for death, but shame he feelsAt this his cause of death; he longsBeneath some giant's vasty bulk1210To draw his final breath, to feelSome mountain-heaving Titan's weightOppressing him, to owe his deathTo some wild, raging beast. But no,Poor soul, because of thine own handThere is no deadly monster more.1215What worthy author of thy death,Save that right hand of thine, is left?Hercules:Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, tornFrom Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast?My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood,1220Are dry and empty now; my liver burns,Its healthy juices parched and dried away;And all my blood is by slow creeping firesConsumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first,Then deep within my flesh it eats its way,1225Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes,Dries up the very marrow of my bones.There in my empty bones the pest remains;Nor can my massive frame for long endure,But even now, with broken, crumbling joints,Begins to fall away. My strength is gone,1230And e'en the limbs of mighty HerculesAre not enough to satisfy this pest.Alas, how mighty must that evil be,When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong!Now see, ye cities, see what now remainsOf famous Hercules. Dost know thy son,O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these1235That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life?Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mineWhich brought to earth from out the very starsThe vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet—Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag,With golden antlers gleaming on his head?Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands,1240Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts,So many cruel men, so many kings—Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all?Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest?Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck?Are these the hands which once the tottering skiesUpheld? Oh, can it be that ever IThe Stygian watchdog dragged into the light?1245Where are those powers, which ere their proper timeAre dead and buried? Why on JupiterAs father do I call? Why, wretched one,Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him?For now, Oh, now will I be thought the sonOf old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,Come forth. Why with a hidden agony1250Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian seaBeneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shoreBegot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!Art thou some crested serpent brandishingIts hideous head; or some fell thing of ill1255As yet unknown to me, produced perchanceFrom Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earthBy Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.What are thy form and features? Grant at leastThat I may know the thing by which I die.Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou,1260Come out, and show thy terror to my face.What enemy has made a way for theeUnto my inmost heart? Behold my handsHave torn aside my burning skin and soMy bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yetIts hiding-place. Oh, woe invincibleAs Hercules! But whence these grievous cries?1265And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?My face, unmoved by grief, has never yetBeen wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,That has beheld the tears of Hercules?Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone1270That strength has yielded which so many illsHas overcome. Thou first, yea, first of allHast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,Or than the wandering Symplegades,Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world,1275O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,Has seen me giving way to tears and groans;And, that which brings me greater anguish still,My stepdame too has seen. But lo, againThe scorching heat flames up and burns my heart.Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.Chorus:Where is the strength that can withstandThe power of suffering? But nowMore hard than Thracian Haemus' crags,1280Sterner than savage northern skies,He is by agony subdued.His fainting head upon his breastFalls low; his massive frame he shiftsFrom side to side; now and againHis manly courage dries his tears.1285So, with however warm a flameBright Titan labors to dissolveThe arctic snows, still are his firesBy those bright, icy rays outshone.Hercules:O father, turn and look upon my woes.1290Never till now has great Alcides fledTo thee for aid; not when around my limbsThe deadly hydra, fertile in its death,Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the poolsOf hell, by that thick pall of death I stoodSurrounded close; and yet I called thee not.How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome,1295How many kings and tyrants; yet my faceHave I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky.This hand of mine alone has been the godWho heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderboltsHave ever flashed from heaven on my account.But now at last has come a woeful timeWhich bids me ask for aid. This day, the first1300And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules.One thunderbolt I ask, and only one.Consider me a giant storming heaven.Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth;But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies.Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful,1305Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death,And gain this great renown unto thy name.Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a taskSo impious, send forth from SicilyThose burning Titans, who with giant handsMay Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too,1310And overwhelm me with their crushing weight.Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell,And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart;Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death;He is my brother; true, but Juno's son.Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and soAlcides' sister, bright Athene, come,1315And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast.And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's handI may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thouStill nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge?1320Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray.O lands, and countless cities of the earth,1325Is there no one among you all to bringA blazing torch for mighty Hercules?Will no one give me arms? Why take awayMy weapons from my hands? Then let no landBring forth dire monsters more when I am dead,And let the world not ask for aid of mine.If other ills are born into the world,Then must another savior come as well.1330Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every sideAnd hurl them at my wretched head; and soO'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world,Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite?Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless preyTo evil monsters, had not I been born.Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill,1335Your champion. This chance is given you,By slaying me to cancel all you owe.

Hercules:Turn back thy panting steeds, thou shining sun,

And bid the night come forth. Blot out the day,

And let the heavens, with pitchy darkness filled,

Conceal my dying pains from Juno's eyes.

Now, father, were it fitting to recall

Dark chaos; now the joinings of the skies1135

Should be asunder rent, and pole from pole

Be cleft. Why, father, dost thou spare the stars?

Thy Hercules is lost. Now, Jupiter,

Look well to every region of the heavens,

Lest any Gyas hurl again the crags

Of Thessaly, and Othrys be again1140

An easy missile for Enceladus.

Now, even now will haughty Pluto loose

The gates of hell, strike off his father's chains,

And give him back to heaven. Since Hercules,

Who on the earth has seen thy thunderbolt

And lightning flash, must turn him back to Styx;

Enceladus the fierce will rise again,1145

And hurl against the gods that mighty weight

Which now oppresses him. O Jupiter,

My death throughout the kingdom of the sky

Shall shake thy sovereignty. Then, ere thy throne

Become the giants' spoil, give burial

Beneath the ruined universe to me;

Oh, rend thy kingdom ere 'tis rent from thee.1150

Chorus:No empty fears, O Thunderer's son,Dost thou express: for soon againShall Pelion on Ossa rest;And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrustIts woods amidst the stars of heaven.Then shall Typhoeus heave aside1155The crags of Tuscan Ischia;Enceladus, not yet o'ercomeBy thunderbolts, shall bear aloftThe huge Aetnaean furnaces,And rend the gaping mountain side.So shall it be; for even nowThe skies are tottering with thy fall.1160

Chorus:No empty fears, O Thunderer's son,

Dost thou express: for soon again

Shall Pelion on Ossa rest;

And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrust

Its woods amidst the stars of heaven.

Then shall Typhoeus heave aside1155

The crags of Tuscan Ischia;

Enceladus, not yet o'ercome

By thunderbolts, shall bear aloft

The huge Aetnaean furnaces,

And rend the gaping mountain side.

So shall it be; for even now

The skies are tottering with thy fall.1160

Hercules:Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's poolReturned with spoil so grim and terrible,That Titan from his reeling chariotWas well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword1165Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;No giant with his fierce and gaping jawsHas heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed;1170And, what brings greater anguish to my soul(Shame to my manhood!), this my final dayHas seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me!My life is squandered—and for no return.O thou, whose rule is over all the world;Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules1175Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!Oh, base and bitter end—that fame should sayGreat Hercules was by a woman slain,He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38]So many men and beasts! If changeless fateHad willed that I by woman's hand should die,1180And if to such base end my thread of life,Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallenBy Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,But one who holds the heavens in her sway.If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skiesBrought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.But by what woman's hand shall I be said,1185Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy?What baleful thing like this has earth producedTo sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hateHas far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame,1190To feel thyself by Hercules aloneOutmatched; but now must thou confess thyselfBy two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath!Oh, that the Nemean lion of my bloodHad drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fedThe hydra with his hundred snaky headsUpon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce1195Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shadesI, bound upon the everlasting rock,Were sitting, lost in misery! But no:From every distant land I've taken spoil,While fate looked on amazed; from hellish StyxHave I come back to earth; the bonds of DisI have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere,1200That I might lack at last a glorious end.Alas for all the monsters I have slain!Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus,When he had seen the sunlight, drag me backTo hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies,Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low?And those twin serpents huge—ah, woe is me,How often have I 'scaped a glorious death!1205What honor comes from such an endasthis?

Hercules:Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,

Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's pool

Returned with spoil so grim and terrible,

That Titan from his reeling chariot

Was well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:

I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword1165

Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,

All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;

No giant with his fierce and gaping jaws

Has heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.

Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed;1170

And, what brings greater anguish to my soul

(Shame to my manhood!), this my final day

Has seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me!

My life is squandered—and for no return.

O thou, whose rule is over all the world;

Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;

O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules1175

Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!

Oh, base and bitter end—that fame should say

Great Hercules was by a woman slain,

He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38]

So many men and beasts! If changeless fate

Had willed that I by woman's hand should die,1180

And if to such base end my thread of life,

Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallen

By Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,

But one who holds the heavens in her sway.

If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,

The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skies

Brought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.

But by what woman's hand shall I be said,1185

Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?

This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.

Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy?

What baleful thing like this has earth produced

To sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hate

Has far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame,1190

To feel thyself by Hercules alone

Outmatched; but now must thou confess thyself

By two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath!

Oh, that the Nemean lion of my blood

Had drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fed

The hydra with his hundred snaky heads

Upon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce1195

Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shades

I, bound upon the everlasting rock,

Were sitting, lost in misery! But no:

From every distant land I've taken spoil,

While fate looked on amazed; from hellish Styx

Have I come back to earth; the bonds of Dis

I have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere,1200

That I might lack at last a glorious end.

Alas for all the monsters I have slain!

Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus,

When he had seen the sunlight, drag me back

To hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies,

Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low?

And those twin serpents huge—ah, woe is me,

How often have I 'scaped a glorious death!1205

What honor comes from such an endasthis?

Chorus:Dost see how, conscious of his fame,He does not shrink from Lethe's stream?Not grief for death, but shame he feelsAt this his cause of death; he longsBeneath some giant's vasty bulk1210To draw his final breath, to feelSome mountain-heaving Titan's weightOppressing him, to owe his deathTo some wild, raging beast. But no,Poor soul, because of thine own handThere is no deadly monster more.1215What worthy author of thy death,Save that right hand of thine, is left?

Chorus:Dost see how, conscious of his fame,

He does not shrink from Lethe's stream?

Not grief for death, but shame he feels

At this his cause of death; he longs

Beneath some giant's vasty bulk1210

To draw his final breath, to feel

Some mountain-heaving Titan's weight

Oppressing him, to owe his death

To some wild, raging beast. But no,

Poor soul, because of thine own hand

There is no deadly monster more.1215

What worthy author of thy death,

Save that right hand of thine, is left?

Hercules:Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, tornFrom Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast?My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood,1220Are dry and empty now; my liver burns,Its healthy juices parched and dried away;And all my blood is by slow creeping firesConsumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first,Then deep within my flesh it eats its way,1225Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes,Dries up the very marrow of my bones.There in my empty bones the pest remains;Nor can my massive frame for long endure,But even now, with broken, crumbling joints,Begins to fall away. My strength is gone,1230And e'en the limbs of mighty HerculesAre not enough to satisfy this pest.Alas, how mighty must that evil be,When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong!Now see, ye cities, see what now remainsOf famous Hercules. Dost know thy son,O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these1235That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life?Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mineWhich brought to earth from out the very starsThe vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet—Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag,With golden antlers gleaming on his head?Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands,1240Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts,So many cruel men, so many kings—Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all?Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest?Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck?Are these the hands which once the tottering skiesUpheld? Oh, can it be that ever IThe Stygian watchdog dragged into the light?1245Where are those powers, which ere their proper timeAre dead and buried? Why on JupiterAs father do I call? Why, wretched one,Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him?For now, Oh, now will I be thought the sonOf old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,Come forth. Why with a hidden agony1250Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian seaBeneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shoreBegot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!Art thou some crested serpent brandishingIts hideous head; or some fell thing of ill1255As yet unknown to me, produced perchanceFrom Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earthBy Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.What are thy form and features? Grant at leastThat I may know the thing by which I die.Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou,1260Come out, and show thy terror to my face.What enemy has made a way for theeUnto my inmost heart? Behold my handsHave torn aside my burning skin and soMy bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yetIts hiding-place. Oh, woe invincibleAs Hercules! But whence these grievous cries?1265And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?My face, unmoved by grief, has never yetBeen wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,That has beheld the tears of Hercules?Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone1270That strength has yielded which so many illsHas overcome. Thou first, yea, first of allHast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,Or than the wandering Symplegades,Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world,1275O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,Has seen me giving way to tears and groans;And, that which brings me greater anguish still,My stepdame too has seen. But lo, againThe scorching heat flames up and burns my heart.Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.

Hercules:Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, torn

From Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast?

My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood,1220

Are dry and empty now; my liver burns,

Its healthy juices parched and dried away;

And all my blood is by slow creeping fires

Consumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first,

Then deep within my flesh it eats its way,1225

Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes,

Dries up the very marrow of my bones.

There in my empty bones the pest remains;

Nor can my massive frame for long endure,

But even now, with broken, crumbling joints,

Begins to fall away. My strength is gone,1230

And e'en the limbs of mighty Hercules

Are not enough to satisfy this pest.

Alas, how mighty must that evil be,

When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong!

Now see, ye cities, see what now remains

Of famous Hercules. Dost know thy son,

O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these1235

That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life?

Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mine

Which brought to earth from out the very stars

The vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet—

Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag,

With golden antlers gleaming on his head?

Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands,1240

Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts,

So many cruel men, so many kings—

Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all?

Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest?

Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck?

Are these the hands which once the tottering skies

Upheld? Oh, can it be that ever I

The Stygian watchdog dragged into the light?1245

Where are those powers, which ere their proper time

Are dead and buried? Why on Jupiter

As father do I call? Why, wretched one,

Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him?

For now, Oh, now will I be thought the son

Of old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,

Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,

Come forth. Why with a hidden agony1250

Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian sea

Beneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,

What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shore

Begot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!

Art thou some crested serpent brandishing

Its hideous head; or some fell thing of ill1255

As yet unknown to me, produced perchance

From Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earth

By Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?

Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.

What are thy form and features? Grant at least

That I may know the thing by which I die.

Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou,1260

Come out, and show thy terror to my face.

What enemy has made a way for thee

Unto my inmost heart? Behold my hands

Have torn aside my burning skin and so

My bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yet

Its hiding-place. Oh, woe invincible

As Hercules! But whence these grievous cries?1265

And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?

My face, unmoved by grief, has never yet

Been wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,

Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,

That has beheld the tears of Hercules?

Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.

To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone1270

That strength has yielded which so many ills

Has overcome. Thou first, yea, first of all

Hast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.

For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,

Or than the wandering Symplegades,

Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,

Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world,1275

O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,

Has seen me giving way to tears and groans;

And, that which brings me greater anguish still,

My stepdame too has seen. But lo, again

The scorching heat flames up and burns my heart.

Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.

Chorus:Where is the strength that can withstandThe power of suffering? But nowMore hard than Thracian Haemus' crags,1280Sterner than savage northern skies,He is by agony subdued.His fainting head upon his breastFalls low; his massive frame he shiftsFrom side to side; now and againHis manly courage dries his tears.1285So, with however warm a flameBright Titan labors to dissolveThe arctic snows, still are his firesBy those bright, icy rays outshone.

Chorus:Where is the strength that can withstand

The power of suffering? But now

More hard than Thracian Haemus' crags,1280

Sterner than savage northern skies,

He is by agony subdued.

His fainting head upon his breast

Falls low; his massive frame he shifts

From side to side; now and again

His manly courage dries his tears.1285

So, with however warm a flame

Bright Titan labors to dissolve

The arctic snows, still are his fires

By those bright, icy rays outshone.

Hercules:O father, turn and look upon my woes.1290Never till now has great Alcides fledTo thee for aid; not when around my limbsThe deadly hydra, fertile in its death,Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the poolsOf hell, by that thick pall of death I stoodSurrounded close; and yet I called thee not.How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome,1295How many kings and tyrants; yet my faceHave I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky.This hand of mine alone has been the godWho heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderboltsHave ever flashed from heaven on my account.But now at last has come a woeful timeWhich bids me ask for aid. This day, the first1300And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules.One thunderbolt I ask, and only one.Consider me a giant storming heaven.Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth;But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies.Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful,1305Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death,And gain this great renown unto thy name.Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a taskSo impious, send forth from SicilyThose burning Titans, who with giant handsMay Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too,1310And overwhelm me with their crushing weight.Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell,And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart;Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death;He is my brother; true, but Juno's son.Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and soAlcides' sister, bright Athene, come,1315And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast.And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's handI may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thouStill nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge?1320Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray.O lands, and countless cities of the earth,1325Is there no one among you all to bringA blazing torch for mighty Hercules?Will no one give me arms? Why take awayMy weapons from my hands? Then let no landBring forth dire monsters more when I am dead,And let the world not ask for aid of mine.If other ills are born into the world,Then must another savior come as well.1330Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every sideAnd hurl them at my wretched head; and soO'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world,Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite?Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless preyTo evil monsters, had not I been born.Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill,1335Your champion. This chance is given you,By slaying me to cancel all you owe.

Hercules:O father, turn and look upon my woes.1290

Never till now has great Alcides fled

To thee for aid; not when around my limbs

The deadly hydra, fertile in its death,

Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the pools

Of hell, by that thick pall of death I stood

Surrounded close; and yet I called thee not.

How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome,1295

How many kings and tyrants; yet my face

Have I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky.

This hand of mine alone has been the god

Who heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderbolts

Have ever flashed from heaven on my account.

But now at last has come a woeful time

Which bids me ask for aid. This day, the first1300

And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules.

One thunderbolt I ask, and only one.

Consider me a giant storming heaven.

Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth;

But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies.

Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful,1305

Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death,

And gain this great renown unto thy name.

Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a task

So impious, send forth from Sicily

Those burning Titans, who with giant hands

May Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too,1310

And overwhelm me with their crushing weight.

Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell,

And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart;

Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death;

He is my brother; true, but Juno's son.

Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and so

Alcides' sister, bright Athene, come,1315

And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast.

And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,

O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,

Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's hand

I may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,

Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thou

Still nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge?1320

Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,

Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.

But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,

Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?

Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray.

O lands, and countless cities of the earth,1325

Is there no one among you all to bring

A blazing torch for mighty Hercules?

Will no one give me arms? Why take away

My weapons from my hands? Then let no land

Bring forth dire monsters more when I am dead,

And let the world not ask for aid of mine.

If other ills are born into the world,

Then must another savior come as well.1330

Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every side

And hurl them at my wretched head; and so

O'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world,

Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite?

Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless prey

To evil monsters, had not I been born.

Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill,1335

Your champion. This chance is given you,

By slaying me to cancel all you owe.

[EnterAlcmena.]

Alcmena:Where shall Alcides' wretched mother go?Where is my son? Lo, if I see aright,Yonder he lies with burning fever tossedAnd throbbing heart. I hear his groans of pain.1340Ah me, his life is at an end. My son,Come, let me fold thee in a last embrace,And catch thy parting spirit in my mouth;These arms of mine upon thine own I'll lay.But where are they? Where is that sturdy neckWhich bore the burden of the starry heavens?What cause has left to thee so small a partOf thy once massive frame?1345Hercules:Thou seest, indeed,The shadow and the piteous counterfeitOf thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son.But why dost turn away and hide thy face?Art thou ashamed that such as I am calledThy son?Alcmena:What land, what world has given birthTo this new monster? What so dire a thing1350Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?Hercules:By my own wife's deceits am I undone.Alcmena:What fraud is great enough to conquer thee?Hercules:Whate'eris great enough for woman's wrath.Alcmena:How got the pest so deep within thy frame?1355Hercules:Through a poisoned robe sent by a woman's hands.Alcmena:Where is the robe? I see thy limbs are bare.Hercules:With me 'tis all consumed.Alcmena:How can it be?Hercules:I tell thee, mother, through my vitals roamThe hydra and a thousand poisonous beasts.1360What flames as hot as these invade the cloudsO'er Aetna's top? What glowing Lemnian fires,What torrid radiance of the burning heavens,Within whose scorching zone the day comes not?O comrades, take and throw me in the sea,Or in the river's rushing stream—alas,1365Where is the stream that will suffice for me?Though greater than all lands, not ocean's selfCan cool my burning pains. To ease my woeAll streams were not enough, all springs would fail.Why, O thou lord of Erebus, didst thouTo Jove return me? Better had it beenTo hold me fast. Oh, take me back again,1370And show me as I am to those fell shadesWhom I subdued. Naught will I take away.Thou hast no need to fear Alcides more.Come death, attack me; have no fear of me;For I at length am fain to welcome thee.Alcmena:Restrain thy tears at least; subdue thy pains.Come, show thyself unconquered still by woe;1375And death and hell, as is thy wont, defy.Hercules:If on the heights of Caucasus I layIn chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed,While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me,No sound of woe should issue from my lips;Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades1380Together clash and threaten me with death,I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony.Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too,Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas,And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurledThe bolts of Jove—if e'en the sky itself1385Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' carIn blazing torture on my shoulders lie:No coward cry of pain would ever showThe mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more:Although a thousand monstrous beasts at onceShould rush upon and rend me limb from limb;Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild,1390And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;Nay, though the very soil of earth should riseAnd shriek[39]its rage at me from every side;Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:Though sore bestead and mangled, still would IIn silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,No weapon wielded by the hand of man,Could force from me a single word of pain.1395Alcmena:No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;But thy long years of work, thy constant toils,Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.Hercules:Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be?Does any evil still upon the earthExist, with me alive? But let it come.Let someone quickly bring my bow to me—1400But no: my naked hands will be enough.Now bid the monster come.Alcmena:Alas, his pains,Too great, have reft his senses quite away.Remove his weapons, take those deadly shaftsOut of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks1405Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I,A helpless, agéd woman hide myself?That grief of his has changed to maddened rage,And that alone is master of him now.Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am,Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave handAlcmena has deserved to meet her death.So let me perish even impiously,1410Before some craven soul command my death,Or some base creature triumph over me.But see, outworn by woe, his weary heartIs in the soothing bonds of slumber bound;His panting chest with labored breathing heaves.Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me1415Have willed to take my glorious son, at leastSpare to the world, I pray, its champion.Let all his pains depart, and once againLet great Alcides' frame renew its strength.

Alcmena:Where shall Alcides' wretched mother go?

Where is my son? Lo, if I see aright,

Yonder he lies with burning fever tossed

And throbbing heart. I hear his groans of pain.1340

Ah me, his life is at an end. My son,

Come, let me fold thee in a last embrace,

And catch thy parting spirit in my mouth;

These arms of mine upon thine own I'll lay.

But where are they? Where is that sturdy neck

Which bore the burden of the starry heavens?

What cause has left to thee so small a part

Of thy once massive frame?1345

Hercules:Thou seest, indeed,The shadow and the piteous counterfeitOf thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son.But why dost turn away and hide thy face?Art thou ashamed that such as I am calledThy son?

Hercules:Thou seest, indeed,

The shadow and the piteous counterfeit

Of thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son.

But why dost turn away and hide thy face?

Art thou ashamed that such as I am called

Thy son?

Alcmena:What land, what world has given birthTo this new monster? What so dire a thing1350Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?

Alcmena:What land, what world has given birth

To this new monster? What so dire a thing1350

Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?

Hercules:By my own wife's deceits am I undone.

Alcmena:What fraud is great enough to conquer thee?

Hercules:Whate'eris great enough for woman's wrath.

Alcmena:How got the pest so deep within thy frame?1355

Hercules:Through a poisoned robe sent by a woman's hands.

Alcmena:Where is the robe? I see thy limbs are bare.

Hercules:With me 'tis all consumed.

Alcmena:How can it be?

Hercules:I tell thee, mother, through my vitals roamThe hydra and a thousand poisonous beasts.1360What flames as hot as these invade the cloudsO'er Aetna's top? What glowing Lemnian fires,What torrid radiance of the burning heavens,Within whose scorching zone the day comes not?O comrades, take and throw me in the sea,Or in the river's rushing stream—alas,1365Where is the stream that will suffice for me?Though greater than all lands, not ocean's selfCan cool my burning pains. To ease my woeAll streams were not enough, all springs would fail.Why, O thou lord of Erebus, didst thouTo Jove return me? Better had it beenTo hold me fast. Oh, take me back again,1370And show me as I am to those fell shadesWhom I subdued. Naught will I take away.Thou hast no need to fear Alcides more.Come death, attack me; have no fear of me;For I at length am fain to welcome thee.

Hercules:I tell thee, mother, through my vitals roam

The hydra and a thousand poisonous beasts.1360

What flames as hot as these invade the clouds

O'er Aetna's top? What glowing Lemnian fires,

What torrid radiance of the burning heavens,

Within whose scorching zone the day comes not?

O comrades, take and throw me in the sea,

Or in the river's rushing stream—alas,1365

Where is the stream that will suffice for me?

Though greater than all lands, not ocean's self

Can cool my burning pains. To ease my woe

All streams were not enough, all springs would fail.

Why, O thou lord of Erebus, didst thou

To Jove return me? Better had it been

To hold me fast. Oh, take me back again,1370

And show me as I am to those fell shades

Whom I subdued. Naught will I take away.

Thou hast no need to fear Alcides more.

Come death, attack me; have no fear of me;

For I at length am fain to welcome thee.

Alcmena:Restrain thy tears at least; subdue thy pains.Come, show thyself unconquered still by woe;1375And death and hell, as is thy wont, defy.

Alcmena:Restrain thy tears at least; subdue thy pains.

Come, show thyself unconquered still by woe;1375

And death and hell, as is thy wont, defy.

Hercules:If on the heights of Caucasus I layIn chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed,While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me,No sound of woe should issue from my lips;Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades1380Together clash and threaten me with death,I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony.Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too,Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas,And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurledThe bolts of Jove—if e'en the sky itself1385Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' carIn blazing torture on my shoulders lie:No coward cry of pain would ever showThe mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more:Although a thousand monstrous beasts at onceShould rush upon and rend me limb from limb;Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild,1390And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;Nay, though the very soil of earth should riseAnd shriek[39]its rage at me from every side;Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:Though sore bestead and mangled, still would IIn silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,No weapon wielded by the hand of man,Could force from me a single word of pain.1395

Hercules:If on the heights of Caucasus I lay

In chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed,

While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me,

No sound of woe should issue from my lips;

Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades1380

Together clash and threaten me with death,

I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony.

Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too,

Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas,

And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurled

The bolts of Jove—if e'en the sky itself1385

Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' car

In blazing torture on my shoulders lie:

No coward cry of pain would ever show

The mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more:

Although a thousand monstrous beasts at once

Should rush upon and rend me limb from limb;

Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild,1390

And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,

And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;

Nay, though the very soil of earth should rise

And shriek[39]its rage at me from every side;

Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:

Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I

In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,

No weapon wielded by the hand of man,

Could force from me a single word of pain.1395

Alcmena:No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;But thy long years of work, thy constant toils,Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.

Alcmena:No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;

But thy long years of work, thy constant toils,

Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.

Hercules:Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be?Does any evil still upon the earthExist, with me alive? But let it come.Let someone quickly bring my bow to me—1400But no: my naked hands will be enough.Now bid the monster come.

Hercules:Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be?

Does any evil still upon the earth

Exist, with me alive? But let it come.

Let someone quickly bring my bow to me—1400

But no: my naked hands will be enough.

Now bid the monster come.

Alcmena:Alas, his pains,Too great, have reft his senses quite away.Remove his weapons, take those deadly shaftsOut of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks1405Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I,A helpless, agéd woman hide myself?That grief of his has changed to maddened rage,And that alone is master of him now.Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am,Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave handAlcmena has deserved to meet her death.So let me perish even impiously,1410Before some craven soul command my death,Or some base creature triumph over me.But see, outworn by woe, his weary heartIs in the soothing bonds of slumber bound;His panting chest with labored breathing heaves.Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me1415Have willed to take my glorious son, at leastSpare to the world, I pray, its champion.Let all his pains depart, and once againLet great Alcides' frame renew its strength.

Alcmena:Alas, his pains,

Too great, have reft his senses quite away.

Remove his weapons, take those deadly shafts

Out of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks1405

Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I,

A helpless, agéd woman hide myself?

That grief of his has changed to maddened rage,

And that alone is master of him now.

Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am,

Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave hand

Alcmena has deserved to meet her death.

So let me perish even impiously,1410

Before some craven soul command my death,

Or some base creature triumph over me.

But see, outworn by woe, his weary heart

Is in the soothing bonds of slumber bound;

His panting chest with labored breathing heaves.

Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me1415

Have willed to take my glorious son, at least

Spare to the world, I pray, its champion.

Let all his pains depart, and once again

Let great Alcides' frame renew its strength.

[EnterHyllus.]

Hyllus:O bitter light, O day with evil filled!Dead is the Thunderer's daughter, and his son1420Lies dying. I alone of all survive.By my own mother's crime my father dies,But she by guile was snared. What agéd man,Throughout the round of years, in all his life,Will e'er be able to recount such woes?One day has snatched away my parents both.1425But though I say naught of my other ills,And cease to blame the fates, still must I say:My sire, the mighty Hercules, is gone.Alcmena:Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire,And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief;Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain.But see, repose deserts his weary heart,1430And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.Hercules[awakening in delirium]: Why, what is this? Do I with waking eyesSee little Trachin on her craggy seat,Or, set amongst the stars, have I at lengthEscaped the race of men? Who opes for meThe gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see,1435Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased.What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears?Great Juno calls me son! Now I beholdThe gleaming palace of the heavenly world,And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels.[Beginning to come out of his delirium.]I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence.1440But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven,And from the stars, O father, leads me down?I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face,So near to heaven was I; but now, alas,'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earthHas given me back again? A moment since,1445And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below,And all the world was lying at my feet.How sweet the respite that I had from thee,O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess—but stay,Let not such shameful words escape thy lips.[ToHyllus.]This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift.Oh, that I might crush out her guilty lifeWith my great club, as once the Amazons1450I smote upon the snowy Caucasus.O well-loved Megara, to think that thouWast wife of mine when in that fit I fellOf maddened rage! Give me my club and bow;Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blotLet me destroy the luster of my praise—My latest conquest on a woman gained!1455Hyllus:Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath;She has her wound—'tis over—and has paidThe penalty which thou wouldst have her pay:For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.Hercules:O grief, still with me! She deserved to dieBeneath the hands of angry Hercules.1460O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death.So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpseI still would rage. Why does her body lieSecure from my assaults? Go cast it outTo be a banquet for the birds of prey.Hyllus:She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish.Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died.1465But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit,Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low.By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived,Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life.'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped,1470And by thy pains he doth requite his own.Hercules:Then truly are his pains well recompensed,And my own doubtful oracles explained.This fate the talking oak foretold to me,And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voiceShook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes:1475"By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land,And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee."Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet;Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules1480Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my deathBe glorious, illustrious, renowned,And worthy of myself. This final dayWill I make famous in the ears of men.Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's grovesBring hither, that a mighty funeral pyreMay hold great Hercules before he dies.And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask1485To do this last, sad office for thy friend,And all the sky illumine with the flamesOf Hercules. And now to thee this prayer,This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make:Among my captives is a beauteous maid,Of noble breeding and of royal birth.'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus.1490Her would I have thee to thy chamber leadWith fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood,Victorious, I robbed her of her homeAnd fatherland; and in return, poor girl,Naught save Alcides have I given her;And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woesIn the embrace of him who boasts the blood1495Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seedShe has conceived of me let her to theeBring forth.[ToAlcmena.]And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray,For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives;And by my might have I my stepdame madeTo seem but as the concubine of Jove.1500Whether the story of the night prolongedAt Hercules' begetting be the truth,Or whether I was got of mortal sire—Though I be falsely called the son of Jove,I have indeed deserved to be his son;For I have honored him, and to his praise1505My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himselfIs proud that he is held to be my sire.Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt beOf high degree among Argolic dames.For no such son as thine has Juno borne,Though she may wield the scepter of the skies,1510The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven,She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth,And wished that she might call him son of hers.Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone;For I, who have thy constant comrade been,Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades.Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise:1515That openly no monster conquered me,But that I conquered all—and openly.

Hyllus:O bitter light, O day with evil filled!

Dead is the Thunderer's daughter, and his son1420

Lies dying. I alone of all survive.

By my own mother's crime my father dies,

But she by guile was snared. What agéd man,

Throughout the round of years, in all his life,

Will e'er be able to recount such woes?

One day has snatched away my parents both.1425

But though I say naught of my other ills,

And cease to blame the fates, still must I say:

My sire, the mighty Hercules, is gone.

Alcmena:Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire,And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief;Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain.But see, repose deserts his weary heart,1430And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.

Alcmena:Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire,

And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief;

Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain.

But see, repose deserts his weary heart,1430

And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.

Hercules[awakening in delirium]: Why, what is this? Do I with waking eyesSee little Trachin on her craggy seat,Or, set amongst the stars, have I at lengthEscaped the race of men? Who opes for meThe gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see,1435Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased.What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears?Great Juno calls me son! Now I beholdThe gleaming palace of the heavenly world,And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels.[Beginning to come out of his delirium.]I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence.1440But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven,And from the stars, O father, leads me down?I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face,So near to heaven was I; but now, alas,'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earthHas given me back again? A moment since,1445And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below,And all the world was lying at my feet.How sweet the respite that I had from thee,O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess—but stay,Let not such shameful words escape thy lips.[ToHyllus.]This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift.Oh, that I might crush out her guilty lifeWith my great club, as once the Amazons1450I smote upon the snowy Caucasus.O well-loved Megara, to think that thouWast wife of mine when in that fit I fellOf maddened rage! Give me my club and bow;Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blotLet me destroy the luster of my praise—My latest conquest on a woman gained!1455

Hercules[awakening in delirium]: Why, what is this? Do I with waking eyes

See little Trachin on her craggy seat,

Or, set amongst the stars, have I at length

Escaped the race of men? Who opes for me

The gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see,1435

Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased.

What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears?

Great Juno calls me son! Now I behold

The gleaming palace of the heavenly world,

And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels.

[Beginning to come out of his delirium.]

I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence.1440

But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven,

And from the stars, O father, leads me down?

I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face,

So near to heaven was I; but now, alas,

'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earth

Has given me back again? A moment since,1445

And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below,

And all the world was lying at my feet.

How sweet the respite that I had from thee,

O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess—but stay,

Let not such shameful words escape thy lips.

[ToHyllus.]

This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift.

Oh, that I might crush out her guilty life

With my great club, as once the Amazons1450

I smote upon the snowy Caucasus.

O well-loved Megara, to think that thou

Wast wife of mine when in that fit I fell

Of maddened rage! Give me my club and bow;

Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blot

Let me destroy the luster of my praise—

My latest conquest on a woman gained!1455

Hyllus:Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath;She has her wound—'tis over—and has paidThe penalty which thou wouldst have her pay:For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.

Hyllus:Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath;

She has her wound—'tis over—and has paid

The penalty which thou wouldst have her pay:

For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.

Hercules:O grief, still with me! She deserved to dieBeneath the hands of angry Hercules.1460O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death.So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpseI still would rage. Why does her body lieSecure from my assaults? Go cast it outTo be a banquet for the birds of prey.

Hercules:O grief, still with me! She deserved to die

Beneath the hands of angry Hercules.1460

O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death.

So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpse

I still would rage. Why does her body lie

Secure from my assaults? Go cast it out

To be a banquet for the birds of prey.

Hyllus:She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish.Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died.1465But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit,Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low.By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived,Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life.'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped,1470And by thy pains he doth requite his own.

Hyllus:She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish.

Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died.1465

But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit,

Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low.

By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived,

Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life.

'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped,1470

And by thy pains he doth requite his own.

Hercules:Then truly are his pains well recompensed,And my own doubtful oracles explained.This fate the talking oak foretold to me,And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voiceShook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes:1475"By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land,And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee."Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet;Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules1480Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my deathBe glorious, illustrious, renowned,And worthy of myself. This final dayWill I make famous in the ears of men.Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's grovesBring hither, that a mighty funeral pyreMay hold great Hercules before he dies.And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask1485To do this last, sad office for thy friend,And all the sky illumine with the flamesOf Hercules. And now to thee this prayer,This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make:Among my captives is a beauteous maid,Of noble breeding and of royal birth.'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus.1490Her would I have thee to thy chamber leadWith fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood,Victorious, I robbed her of her homeAnd fatherland; and in return, poor girl,Naught save Alcides have I given her;And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woesIn the embrace of him who boasts the blood1495Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seedShe has conceived of me let her to theeBring forth.[ToAlcmena.]And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray,For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives;And by my might have I my stepdame madeTo seem but as the concubine of Jove.1500Whether the story of the night prolongedAt Hercules' begetting be the truth,Or whether I was got of mortal sire—Though I be falsely called the son of Jove,I have indeed deserved to be his son;For I have honored him, and to his praise1505My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himselfIs proud that he is held to be my sire.Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt beOf high degree among Argolic dames.For no such son as thine has Juno borne,Though she may wield the scepter of the skies,1510The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven,She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth,And wished that she might call him son of hers.Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone;For I, who have thy constant comrade been,Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades.Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise:1515That openly no monster conquered me,But that I conquered all—and openly.

Hercules:Then truly are his pains well recompensed,

And my own doubtful oracles explained.

This fate the talking oak foretold to me,

And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voice

Shook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes:1475

"By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,

Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.

This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land,

And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee."

Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet;

Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules1480

Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my death

Be glorious, illustrious, renowned,

And worthy of myself. This final day

Will I make famous in the ears of men.

Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's groves

Bring hither, that a mighty funeral pyre

May hold great Hercules before he dies.

And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask1485

To do this last, sad office for thy friend,

And all the sky illumine with the flames

Of Hercules. And now to thee this prayer,

This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make:

Among my captives is a beauteous maid,

Of noble breeding and of royal birth.

'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus.1490

Her would I have thee to thy chamber lead

With fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood,

Victorious, I robbed her of her home

And fatherland; and in return, poor girl,

Naught save Alcides have I given her;

And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woes

In the embrace of him who boasts the blood1495

Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seed

She has conceived of me let her to thee

Bring forth.

[ToAlcmena.]

And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray,

For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives;

And by my might have I my stepdame made

To seem but as the concubine of Jove.1500

Whether the story of the night prolonged

At Hercules' begetting be the truth,

Or whether I was got of mortal sire—

Though I be falsely called the son of Jove,

I have indeed deserved to be his son;

For I have honored him, and to his praise1505

My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himself

Is proud that he is held to be my sire.

Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt be

Of high degree among Argolic dames.

For no such son as thine has Juno borne,

Though she may wield the scepter of the skies,1510

The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven,

She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth,

And wished that she might call him son of hers.

Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone;

For I, who have thy constant comrade been,

Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades.

Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise:1515

That openly no monster conquered me,

But that I conquered all—and openly.

Chorus:Bright sun, thou glory of the world,At whose first rays wan HecateUnyokes the weary steeds of night,1520To east and west the message tell;To those who suffer 'neath the Bear,And who, beneath thy burning carAre tortured: Hercules preparesTo speed him to the world of shades,1525The realm of sleepless Cerberus,Whence he will[40]ne'er again return.Let thy bright rays be overcastWith clouds; gaze on the mourning worldWith pallid face; and let thy headIn thick and murky mists be veiled.1530When, Titan, where, beneath what sky,Shalt thou behold upon the earthAnother such as Hercules?Whom shall the wretched land invoke,If any hundred-headed pest,In Lerna born, spring up anew1535And spread destruction; if againSome boar in ancient ArcadyInfest the woods; or if againSome son of Thracian Rhodope,With heart more hard than the frozen landsThat lie 'neath snowy Helice,Should stain his stalls with human gore?1540Who will give peace to the trembling folkIf angry gods with monstrous birthShould curse the world again? Behold,The mate for common man he lies,Whom earth produced a mate for Jove.Let lamentations loud resound1545Through all the world; with streaming hairLet women smite their naked arms;Let all the temples of the godsBe closed save Juno's; she aloneIs free from care.To Lethe and the Stygian shore1550Now art thou going, whence no keelWill ever bring thee back. Thou goest,Lamented one, unto the shades,Whence, death o'ercome, thou once return'dstIn triumph with thy prize; but now,An empty shade, with fleshless arms,Wan face, and slender, drooping neck,1555Thou goest back. Nor will the skiff(Which once bore only thee and fearedThat even so 'twould be o'erturned)Bear thee alone across the stream.But not with common shades shalt thouBe herded. Thou with Aeacus[41]And pious kings of Crete shalt sitIn judgment on the deeds of men,And punish tyrants. O ye kings,1560Be merciful, restrain your hands.'Tis worthy praise to keep the swordUnstained with blood; while thou didst reign,Upon thy realm to have allowedLeast privilege to bloody[42]fate.But place among the stars is givenTo manly virtue. Shalt thou hold1565Thy seat within the northern skies,Or where his fiercest rays the sunSends forth? Or in the balmy westWilt shine, where thou mayst hear the wavesOn Calpe's shore resound? What placeIn heaven serene shalt thou obtain?1570When great Alcides is receivedAmong the stars, who will be freeFrom fear? May Jove assign thy placeFar from the raging Lion's seat,And burning Crab, lest at sight of theeThe frightened stars confuse their lawsAnd Titan quake with fear.1575So long as blooming flowers shall comeWith wakening spring; while winter's frostsStrip bare the trees, and summer sunsReclothe them with their wonted green;While in the autumn ripened fruitsFall to the ground: no lapse of time1580Shall e'er destroy thy memoryUpon the earth. For thou shalt liveAs comrade of the sun and stars.Sooner shall wheat grow in the sea,Or stormy straits with gentle wavesBeat on the shore; sooner descendThe Bear from out his frozen skyAnd bathe him in forbidden waves:1585Than shall the thankful people ceaseTo sing thy praise.And now to thee,O father of the world, we pray:Let no dread beast be born on earth,No monstrous pest; keep this poor worldFrom abject fear of heartless kings;Let no one hold the reins of power1590Who deems his kingdom's glory liesIn the terror of his naked sword.But if again some thing of dreadAppear upon the earth, Oh, give,We pray, another champion.But what is this? The heavens resound.1595Behold Alcides' father mourns,He mourns his son. Or is't the soundOf grieving gods, or the cry of fearOf the timid stepdame? Can it beThat at the sight of HerculesGreat Juno flees the stars? PerchanceBeneath the added weight of heavenTall Atlas reels. Or do the shades1600Cry out in fear of Hercules,While Cerberus with broken chainsIn panic flees the sight? Not so:Behold, 'tis Poeas' son, who comesWith looks of gladness. See, he bearsThe well-known quiver and the shafts1605Of Hercules.

Chorus:Bright sun, thou glory of the world,

At whose first rays wan Hecate

Unyokes the weary steeds of night,1520

To east and west the message tell;

To those who suffer 'neath the Bear,

And who, beneath thy burning car

Are tortured: Hercules prepares

To speed him to the world of shades,1525

The realm of sleepless Cerberus,

Whence he will[40]ne'er again return.

Let thy bright rays be overcast

With clouds; gaze on the mourning world

With pallid face; and let thy head

In thick and murky mists be veiled.1530

When, Titan, where, beneath what sky,

Shalt thou behold upon the earth

Another such as Hercules?

Whom shall the wretched land invoke,

If any hundred-headed pest,

In Lerna born, spring up anew1535

And spread destruction; if again

Some boar in ancient Arcady

Infest the woods; or if again

Some son of Thracian Rhodope,

With heart more hard than the frozen lands

That lie 'neath snowy Helice,

Should stain his stalls with human gore?1540

Who will give peace to the trembling folk

If angry gods with monstrous birth

Should curse the world again? Behold,

The mate for common man he lies,

Whom earth produced a mate for Jove.

Let lamentations loud resound1545

Through all the world; with streaming hair

Let women smite their naked arms;

Let all the temples of the gods

Be closed save Juno's; she alone

Is free from care.

To Lethe and the Stygian shore1550

Now art thou going, whence no keel

Will ever bring thee back. Thou goest,

Lamented one, unto the shades,

Whence, death o'ercome, thou once return'dst

In triumph with thy prize; but now,

An empty shade, with fleshless arms,

Wan face, and slender, drooping neck,1555

Thou goest back. Nor will the skiff

(Which once bore only thee and feared

That even so 'twould be o'erturned)

Bear thee alone across the stream.

But not with common shades shalt thou

Be herded. Thou with Aeacus[41]

And pious kings of Crete shalt sit

In judgment on the deeds of men,

And punish tyrants. O ye kings,1560

Be merciful, restrain your hands.

'Tis worthy praise to keep the sword

Unstained with blood; while thou didst reign,

Upon thy realm to have allowed

Least privilege to bloody[42]fate.

But place among the stars is given

To manly virtue. Shalt thou hold1565

Thy seat within the northern skies,

Or where his fiercest rays the sun

Sends forth? Or in the balmy west

Wilt shine, where thou mayst hear the waves

On Calpe's shore resound? What place

In heaven serene shalt thou obtain?1570

When great Alcides is received

Among the stars, who will be free

From fear? May Jove assign thy place

Far from the raging Lion's seat,

And burning Crab, lest at sight of thee

The frightened stars confuse their laws

And Titan quake with fear.1575

So long as blooming flowers shall come

With wakening spring; while winter's frosts

Strip bare the trees, and summer suns

Reclothe them with their wonted green;

While in the autumn ripened fruits

Fall to the ground: no lapse of time1580

Shall e'er destroy thy memory

Upon the earth. For thou shalt live

As comrade of the sun and stars.

Sooner shall wheat grow in the sea,

Or stormy straits with gentle waves

Beat on the shore; sooner descend

The Bear from out his frozen sky

And bathe him in forbidden waves:1585

Than shall the thankful people cease

To sing thy praise.

And now to thee,

O father of the world, we pray:

Let no dread beast be born on earth,

No monstrous pest; keep this poor world

From abject fear of heartless kings;

Let no one hold the reins of power1590

Who deems his kingdom's glory lies

In the terror of his naked sword.

But if again some thing of dread

Appear upon the earth, Oh, give,

We pray, another champion.

But what is this? The heavens resound.1595

Behold Alcides' father mourns,

He mourns his son. Or is't the sound

Of grieving gods, or the cry of fear

Of the timid stepdame? Can it be

That at the sight of Hercules

Great Juno flees the stars? Perchance

Beneath the added weight of heaven

Tall Atlas reels. Or do the shades1600

Cry out in fear of Hercules,

While Cerberus with broken chains

In panic flees the sight? Not so:

Behold, 'tis Poeas' son, who comes

With looks of gladness. See, he bears

The well-known quiver and the shafts1605

Of Hercules.

FOOTNOTES:[38]Reading,auctor.[39]Reading,fremens.[40]Reading,remeabit.[41]Reading,Aeacon.[42]Reading,minimum cruentis.

[38]Reading,auctor.

[39]Reading,fremens.

[40]Reading,remeabit.

[41]Reading,Aeacon.

[42]Reading,minimum cruentis.

[EnterPhiloctetes.]

Nurse:Speak out, good youth, and tell the end, I pray,Of Hercules. How did he meet his death?Philoctetes:More gladly than another meets his life.Nurse:What? Did he then rejoice him in the fire?Philoctetes:He showed that burning flames were naught to him.1610What is there in the world which HerculesHas left unconquered? He has vanquished all.Nurse:What chance for glory on the funeral pyre?Philoctetes:One evil thing remained upon the earthWhich he had not o'ercome—the power of fire.1615But this has now been added to the beasts,And fire is one of great Alcides' toils.Nurse:But tell us in what way he conquered fire.Philoctetes:When all his sorrowing friends began to fellThe trees on Oeta's slopes, beneath one handThe beech-tree lost its foliage and lay,Its mighty trunk prone on the ground. One handWith deadly stroke attacked the towering pine,1620Which lifted to the stars its threatening top,And called it from the clouds. In act to fall,It shook its rocky crag, and with a crashWhelmed all the lesser forest in its fall.Within the forest was a certain oak,Wide-spreading, vast, like that Chaonian treeOf prophecy, whose shade shuts out the sun,Embracing all the grove[43]within its arms.1625By many a blow beset, it groans at firstIn threatening wise, and all the wedges breaks;The smiting axe bounds back, its edges dulled,Too soft for such a task. At length the tree,Long wavering, falls with widespread ruin down.Straightway the place admits the sun's bright rays;1630The birds, their tree o'erthrown, fly twittering round,And seek their vanished homes on wearied wing.Now every tree resounds; even the oaksFeel in their sacred sides the piercing steel,Nor does its ancient sanctity protect1635The grove. The wood into a pile is heaped;Its logs alternate rising high aloft,Make all too small a pyre for Hercules:The pine inflammable, tough-fibered oak,The ilex' shorter trunks. But poplar trees,1640Whose foliage adorned Alcides' brow,Fill up the space and make the pyre complete.But he, like some great lion in the woodsOf Libya lying, roaring out his pain,Is borne along—but who would e'er believeThat he was hurrying to his funeral pyre?His gaze was fixed upon the stars of heaven,1645Not fires of earth, when to the mount he cameAnd with his eyes surveyed the mighty pyre.The great beams groaned and broke beneath his weight.Now he demands his bow. "Take this," he said,"O son of Poeas, take this as the giftAnd pledge of love from Hercules to thee.These deadly shafts the poisonous hydra felt;1650With these the vile Stymphalian birds lie low;And every other monster which I slewWith distant aim. O noble youth, go onIn victory, for never 'gainst thy foesShalt thou send these in vain. Wouldst wish to bringBirds from the very clouds? Down shall they fall,And with them come thine arrows sure of prey.1655This bow shall never disappoint thy hand.Well has it learned to poise the feathered shaftAnd send it flying in unerring course.The shafts themselves as well, loosed from the string,Have never failed to find their destined mark.But do thou in return, my only prayer,Bring now the funeral torch and light the pyre.1660This club," he said, "which never hand but mineHas wielded, shall the flames consume with me.This weapon, only, shall to HerculesBelong. But this, too, thou shouldst have from meIf thou couldst bear its weight. But let it serveTo aid its master's pyre." Then he required1665The shaggy spoil of the dire Nemean beastTo burn with him. The huge skin hid the pyre.Now all the gazing crowd begin to groan,And tears of woe to fall from every eye.His mother bares her breast in eager griefAnd smites her body stripped e'en to the loins1670For unrestrained lament; then all the godsAnd Jupiter himself she supplicates,While all the place re-echoes with her shrieks."Thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules,O mother, check thy tears," Alcides said;"Within thy heart thy woman's grief confine.Why shouldst thou make this day a time of joy1675For Juno with thy tears? For she, be sure,Rejoices to behold her rival weep.Then this unworthy grief, my mother, check.It is not meet to abuse the breast that nursed,And the womb that bore Alcides." Thus he spake;Then with a dreadful cry, as when he led1680The awful dog throughout the towns of Greece,Returned triumphant o'er the shades of hell,Scorning the lord of death and death itself,So did he lay him down upon the pyre.What victor in his chariot ever shoneWith such triumphant joy? What tyrant kingWith such a countenance e'er uttered lawsUnto his subject tribes? So deep his calm1685Of soul. All tears were dried, our sorrows shamedTo silence, and we groaned no more to thinkThat he must perish. E'en Alcmena's self,Whose sex is prone to mourn, now tearless stood,A worthy mother of her noble son.1690Nurse:But did he, on the verge of death, no prayerTo heaven breathe, no aid from Jove implore?Philoctetes:With peaceful soul he lay, and scanned the skies,As searching from what quarter of the heavensHis sire would look on him, and thus he spake,1695With hands outstretched: "O father, whencesoe'erFrom heaven thou lookest down upon thy son—He truly is my father for whose sakeOne day of old was swallowed up in night—If both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise,If Scythia, and all the sun-parched lands;1700If peace fills all the world; if cities groanBeneath no tyrant's hand, and no one stainsWith blood of guests his impious altar stones;If horrid crimes have ceased: then, take, I pray,My spirit to the skies. I have no fearOf death, nor do the gloomy realms of Dis1705Affright my soul; but Oh, I blush with shameTo go, a naked shade, unto those godsWhom I myself aforetime overcame.Dispel the clouds and ope the gates of heaven,That all the gods may see Alcides burn.Though thou refuse me place among the stars,Thou shalt be forced to grant my prayer. Ah no:1710If grief can palliate my impious words,Forgive; spread wide the Stygian pools for me,And give me up to death. But first, O sire,Approve thy son. This day at least shall showThat I am worthy of the skies. All deedsWhich I have done before seem worthless now;1715This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn."When he had spoken thus he called for fire:"Come hither now, comrade of Hercules,With willing hand take up the funeral torch.Why dost thou tremble? Does thy timid handShrink from the deed as from an impious crime?Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak.1720Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow?Why does such pallor sit upon thy cheeks?Come, ply the torch with that same fortitudeThat thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take,Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death.But lo, my father calls me from the skyAnd opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!"1725And as he spake his face was glorified.Then did I with my trembling hand applyThe blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back,And will not touch his limbs. But HerculesPursues the fleeing fires. You would supposeThat Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze,1730Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heardSave only that the flames made loud lament.O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placedUpon that pyre, or bold Enceladus,Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back,He would have groaned aloud in agony.1735But Hercules amidst the roaring flamesStood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze,And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for theeBeside the pyre of Hercules to stand.Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seemIn very truth Alcides' mother." There,1740'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood,Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain,Encouraging, advising, active still.His own brave spirit animated all.You would have thought him burning with desireTo burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe,And scarce believed the flames to be true fire,1745So calm and so majestic was his mien.Nor did he hasten to consume himself;But when he deemed that fortitude enoughWas shown in death, from every hand he draggedThe burning logs which with least ardor glowed,Piled them together in a mighty fire,1750And to the very center of the blazeThe dauntless hero went. Awhile he stoodAnd feasted on the flames his eager eyes.Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire.But even when the flames assailed his face,And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues,He did not close his eyes.1755But what is this?'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woeShe makes her way, while in her breast she bearsThe pitiful remains of Hercules.

Nurse:Speak out, good youth, and tell the end, I pray,Of Hercules. How did he meet his death?

Nurse:Speak out, good youth, and tell the end, I pray,

Of Hercules. How did he meet his death?

Philoctetes:More gladly than another meets his life.

Nurse:What? Did he then rejoice him in the fire?

Philoctetes:He showed that burning flames were naught to him.1610What is there in the world which HerculesHas left unconquered? He has vanquished all.

Philoctetes:He showed that burning flames were naught to him.1610

What is there in the world which Hercules

Has left unconquered? He has vanquished all.

Nurse:What chance for glory on the funeral pyre?

Philoctetes:One evil thing remained upon the earthWhich he had not o'ercome—the power of fire.1615But this has now been added to the beasts,And fire is one of great Alcides' toils.

Philoctetes:One evil thing remained upon the earth

Which he had not o'ercome—the power of fire.1615

But this has now been added to the beasts,

And fire is one of great Alcides' toils.

Nurse:But tell us in what way he conquered fire.

Philoctetes:When all his sorrowing friends began to fellThe trees on Oeta's slopes, beneath one handThe beech-tree lost its foliage and lay,Its mighty trunk prone on the ground. One handWith deadly stroke attacked the towering pine,1620Which lifted to the stars its threatening top,And called it from the clouds. In act to fall,It shook its rocky crag, and with a crashWhelmed all the lesser forest in its fall.Within the forest was a certain oak,Wide-spreading, vast, like that Chaonian treeOf prophecy, whose shade shuts out the sun,Embracing all the grove[43]within its arms.1625By many a blow beset, it groans at firstIn threatening wise, and all the wedges breaks;The smiting axe bounds back, its edges dulled,Too soft for such a task. At length the tree,Long wavering, falls with widespread ruin down.Straightway the place admits the sun's bright rays;1630The birds, their tree o'erthrown, fly twittering round,And seek their vanished homes on wearied wing.Now every tree resounds; even the oaksFeel in their sacred sides the piercing steel,Nor does its ancient sanctity protect1635The grove. The wood into a pile is heaped;Its logs alternate rising high aloft,Make all too small a pyre for Hercules:The pine inflammable, tough-fibered oak,The ilex' shorter trunks. But poplar trees,1640Whose foliage adorned Alcides' brow,Fill up the space and make the pyre complete.But he, like some great lion in the woodsOf Libya lying, roaring out his pain,Is borne along—but who would e'er believeThat he was hurrying to his funeral pyre?His gaze was fixed upon the stars of heaven,1645Not fires of earth, when to the mount he cameAnd with his eyes surveyed the mighty pyre.The great beams groaned and broke beneath his weight.Now he demands his bow. "Take this," he said,"O son of Poeas, take this as the giftAnd pledge of love from Hercules to thee.These deadly shafts the poisonous hydra felt;1650With these the vile Stymphalian birds lie low;And every other monster which I slewWith distant aim. O noble youth, go onIn victory, for never 'gainst thy foesShalt thou send these in vain. Wouldst wish to bringBirds from the very clouds? Down shall they fall,And with them come thine arrows sure of prey.1655This bow shall never disappoint thy hand.Well has it learned to poise the feathered shaftAnd send it flying in unerring course.The shafts themselves as well, loosed from the string,Have never failed to find their destined mark.But do thou in return, my only prayer,Bring now the funeral torch and light the pyre.1660This club," he said, "which never hand but mineHas wielded, shall the flames consume with me.This weapon, only, shall to HerculesBelong. But this, too, thou shouldst have from meIf thou couldst bear its weight. But let it serveTo aid its master's pyre." Then he required1665The shaggy spoil of the dire Nemean beastTo burn with him. The huge skin hid the pyre.Now all the gazing crowd begin to groan,And tears of woe to fall from every eye.His mother bares her breast in eager griefAnd smites her body stripped e'en to the loins1670For unrestrained lament; then all the godsAnd Jupiter himself she supplicates,While all the place re-echoes with her shrieks."Thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules,O mother, check thy tears," Alcides said;"Within thy heart thy woman's grief confine.Why shouldst thou make this day a time of joy1675For Juno with thy tears? For she, be sure,Rejoices to behold her rival weep.Then this unworthy grief, my mother, check.It is not meet to abuse the breast that nursed,And the womb that bore Alcides." Thus he spake;Then with a dreadful cry, as when he led1680The awful dog throughout the towns of Greece,Returned triumphant o'er the shades of hell,Scorning the lord of death and death itself,So did he lay him down upon the pyre.What victor in his chariot ever shoneWith such triumphant joy? What tyrant kingWith such a countenance e'er uttered lawsUnto his subject tribes? So deep his calm1685Of soul. All tears were dried, our sorrows shamedTo silence, and we groaned no more to thinkThat he must perish. E'en Alcmena's self,Whose sex is prone to mourn, now tearless stood,A worthy mother of her noble son.1690

Philoctetes:When all his sorrowing friends began to fell

The trees on Oeta's slopes, beneath one hand

The beech-tree lost its foliage and lay,

Its mighty trunk prone on the ground. One hand

With deadly stroke attacked the towering pine,1620

Which lifted to the stars its threatening top,

And called it from the clouds. In act to fall,

It shook its rocky crag, and with a crash

Whelmed all the lesser forest in its fall.

Within the forest was a certain oak,

Wide-spreading, vast, like that Chaonian tree

Of prophecy, whose shade shuts out the sun,

Embracing all the grove[43]within its arms.1625

By many a blow beset, it groans at first

In threatening wise, and all the wedges breaks;

The smiting axe bounds back, its edges dulled,

Too soft for such a task. At length the tree,

Long wavering, falls with widespread ruin down.

Straightway the place admits the sun's bright rays;1630

The birds, their tree o'erthrown, fly twittering round,

And seek their vanished homes on wearied wing.

Now every tree resounds; even the oaks

Feel in their sacred sides the piercing steel,

Nor does its ancient sanctity protect1635

The grove. The wood into a pile is heaped;

Its logs alternate rising high aloft,

Make all too small a pyre for Hercules:

The pine inflammable, tough-fibered oak,

The ilex' shorter trunks. But poplar trees,1640

Whose foliage adorned Alcides' brow,

Fill up the space and make the pyre complete.

But he, like some great lion in the woods

Of Libya lying, roaring out his pain,

Is borne along—but who would e'er believe

That he was hurrying to his funeral pyre?

His gaze was fixed upon the stars of heaven,1645

Not fires of earth, when to the mount he came

And with his eyes surveyed the mighty pyre.

The great beams groaned and broke beneath his weight.

Now he demands his bow. "Take this," he said,

"O son of Poeas, take this as the gift

And pledge of love from Hercules to thee.

These deadly shafts the poisonous hydra felt;1650

With these the vile Stymphalian birds lie low;

And every other monster which I slew

With distant aim. O noble youth, go on

In victory, for never 'gainst thy foes

Shalt thou send these in vain. Wouldst wish to bring

Birds from the very clouds? Down shall they fall,

And with them come thine arrows sure of prey.1655

This bow shall never disappoint thy hand.

Well has it learned to poise the feathered shaft

And send it flying in unerring course.

The shafts themselves as well, loosed from the string,

Have never failed to find their destined mark.

But do thou in return, my only prayer,

Bring now the funeral torch and light the pyre.1660

This club," he said, "which never hand but mine

Has wielded, shall the flames consume with me.

This weapon, only, shall to Hercules

Belong. But this, too, thou shouldst have from me

If thou couldst bear its weight. But let it serve

To aid its master's pyre." Then he required1665

The shaggy spoil of the dire Nemean beast

To burn with him. The huge skin hid the pyre.

Now all the gazing crowd begin to groan,

And tears of woe to fall from every eye.

His mother bares her breast in eager grief

And smites her body stripped e'en to the loins1670

For unrestrained lament; then all the gods

And Jupiter himself she supplicates,

While all the place re-echoes with her shrieks.

"Thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules,

O mother, check thy tears," Alcides said;

"Within thy heart thy woman's grief confine.

Why shouldst thou make this day a time of joy1675

For Juno with thy tears? For she, be sure,

Rejoices to behold her rival weep.

Then this unworthy grief, my mother, check.

It is not meet to abuse the breast that nursed,

And the womb that bore Alcides." Thus he spake;

Then with a dreadful cry, as when he led1680

The awful dog throughout the towns of Greece,

Returned triumphant o'er the shades of hell,

Scorning the lord of death and death itself,

So did he lay him down upon the pyre.

What victor in his chariot ever shone

With such triumphant joy? What tyrant king

With such a countenance e'er uttered laws

Unto his subject tribes? So deep his calm1685

Of soul. All tears were dried, our sorrows shamed

To silence, and we groaned no more to think

That he must perish. E'en Alcmena's self,

Whose sex is prone to mourn, now tearless stood,

A worthy mother of her noble son.1690

Nurse:But did he, on the verge of death, no prayerTo heaven breathe, no aid from Jove implore?

Nurse:But did he, on the verge of death, no prayer

To heaven breathe, no aid from Jove implore?

Philoctetes:With peaceful soul he lay, and scanned the skies,As searching from what quarter of the heavensHis sire would look on him, and thus he spake,1695With hands outstretched: "O father, whencesoe'erFrom heaven thou lookest down upon thy son—He truly is my father for whose sakeOne day of old was swallowed up in night—If both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise,If Scythia, and all the sun-parched lands;1700If peace fills all the world; if cities groanBeneath no tyrant's hand, and no one stainsWith blood of guests his impious altar stones;If horrid crimes have ceased: then, take, I pray,My spirit to the skies. I have no fearOf death, nor do the gloomy realms of Dis1705Affright my soul; but Oh, I blush with shameTo go, a naked shade, unto those godsWhom I myself aforetime overcame.Dispel the clouds and ope the gates of heaven,That all the gods may see Alcides burn.Though thou refuse me place among the stars,Thou shalt be forced to grant my prayer. Ah no:1710If grief can palliate my impious words,Forgive; spread wide the Stygian pools for me,And give me up to death. But first, O sire,Approve thy son. This day at least shall showThat I am worthy of the skies. All deedsWhich I have done before seem worthless now;1715This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn."When he had spoken thus he called for fire:"Come hither now, comrade of Hercules,With willing hand take up the funeral torch.Why dost thou tremble? Does thy timid handShrink from the deed as from an impious crime?Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak.1720Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow?Why does such pallor sit upon thy cheeks?Come, ply the torch with that same fortitudeThat thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take,Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death.But lo, my father calls me from the skyAnd opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!"1725And as he spake his face was glorified.Then did I with my trembling hand applyThe blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back,And will not touch his limbs. But HerculesPursues the fleeing fires. You would supposeThat Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze,1730Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heardSave only that the flames made loud lament.O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placedUpon that pyre, or bold Enceladus,Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back,He would have groaned aloud in agony.1735But Hercules amidst the roaring flamesStood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze,And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for theeBeside the pyre of Hercules to stand.Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seemIn very truth Alcides' mother." There,1740'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood,Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain,Encouraging, advising, active still.His own brave spirit animated all.You would have thought him burning with desireTo burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe,And scarce believed the flames to be true fire,1745So calm and so majestic was his mien.Nor did he hasten to consume himself;But when he deemed that fortitude enoughWas shown in death, from every hand he draggedThe burning logs which with least ardor glowed,Piled them together in a mighty fire,1750And to the very center of the blazeThe dauntless hero went. Awhile he stoodAnd feasted on the flames his eager eyes.Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire.But even when the flames assailed his face,And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues,He did not close his eyes.1755But what is this?'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woeShe makes her way, while in her breast she bearsThe pitiful remains of Hercules.

Philoctetes:With peaceful soul he lay, and scanned the skies,

As searching from what quarter of the heavens

His sire would look on him, and thus he spake,1695

With hands outstretched: "O father, whencesoe'er

From heaven thou lookest down upon thy son—

He truly is my father for whose sake

One day of old was swallowed up in night—

If both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise,

If Scythia, and all the sun-parched lands;1700

If peace fills all the world; if cities groan

Beneath no tyrant's hand, and no one stains

With blood of guests his impious altar stones;

If horrid crimes have ceased: then, take, I pray,

My spirit to the skies. I have no fear

Of death, nor do the gloomy realms of Dis1705

Affright my soul; but Oh, I blush with shame

To go, a naked shade, unto those gods

Whom I myself aforetime overcame.

Dispel the clouds and ope the gates of heaven,

That all the gods may see Alcides burn.

Though thou refuse me place among the stars,

Thou shalt be forced to grant my prayer. Ah no:1710

If grief can palliate my impious words,

Forgive; spread wide the Stygian pools for me,

And give me up to death. But first, O sire,

Approve thy son. This day at least shall show

That I am worthy of the skies. All deeds

Which I have done before seem worthless now;1715

This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn."

When he had spoken thus he called for fire:

"Come hither now, comrade of Hercules,

With willing hand take up the funeral torch.

Why dost thou tremble? Does thy timid hand

Shrink from the deed as from an impious crime?

Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak.1720

Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow?

Why does such pallor sit upon thy cheeks?

Come, ply the torch with that same fortitude

That thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take,

Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death.

But lo, my father calls me from the sky

And opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!"1725

And as he spake his face was glorified.

Then did I with my trembling hand apply

The blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back,

And will not touch his limbs. But Hercules

Pursues the fleeing fires. You would suppose

That Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze,1730

Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heard

Save only that the flames made loud lament.

O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placed

Upon that pyre, or bold Enceladus,

Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back,

He would have groaned aloud in agony.1735

But Hercules amidst the roaring flames

Stood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze,

And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for thee

Beside the pyre of Hercules to stand.

Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seem

In very truth Alcides' mother." There,1740

'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood,

Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain,

Encouraging, advising, active still.

His own brave spirit animated all.

You would have thought him burning with desire

To burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe,

And scarce believed the flames to be true fire,1745

So calm and so majestic was his mien.

Nor did he hasten to consume himself;

But when he deemed that fortitude enough

Was shown in death, from every hand he dragged

The burning logs which with least ardor glowed,

Piled them together in a mighty fire,1750

And to the very center of the blaze

The dauntless hero went. Awhile he stood

And feasted on the flames his eager eyes.

Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire.

But even when the flames assailed his face,

And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues,

He did not close his eyes.1755

But what is this?

'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woe

She makes her way, while in her breast she bears

The pitiful remains of Hercules.

[EnterAlcmena,carrying in her bosom a funeral urn.]

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