Part 18

_Chorus of Aetolian women:_ We weep for thee, O lady dear, And for thy couch dishonored--we, The comrades of thy earliest years, Weep and lament thy fate. 585 How often have we played with thee In Acheloüs' shallow pools, When now the swollen floods of spring Had passed away, and gently now, With graceful sweep, the river ran; When mad Lycormas ceased to roll 590 His headlong waters on. How oft have we, a choral band, To Pallas' altars gone with thee; How oft in Theban baskets borne 595 The sacred Bacchic mysteries, When now the wintry stars have fled, When each third summer calls the sun; And when, the sacred rites complete To Ceres, queen of golden grain, Eleusin hides her worshipers Within her mystic cave. Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st, 600 Accept us as thy trusted friends; For rare is such fidelity When better fortune fails. O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power, Whoe'er thou art, though eagerly The people throng within thy courts, 605 And press for entrance at thy doors; And though the crowds press thick about Where'er thou tak'st thy way: be sure That in so many seeming friends, Scarce one is true. Erinys keeps the gilded gate; And when the great doors swing apart, 610 Then cunning treachery creeps in And fraud, and murderous dagger points. Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad, Base envy as thy comrade goes. As often as the morning dawns Be sure a king from fear of death 615 Has been delivered. Few there are Who love the king, and not his power. For 'tis the glitter of the throne That fires most hearts to loyalty. Now one is eager next the king To walk before the gaze of men, And so gain luster for himself; For greed of glory burns his heart. 620 Another from the royal stores Seeks to supply his own desires; And yet not all the precious sands Of Hister's streams could satisfy, Nor Lydia sate his thirst for gold; Nor that far land where Zephyr blows, Which looks in wonder on the gleam 625 Of Tagus' golden sands. Were all the wealth of Hebrus his; If rich Hydaspes were his own; If through his fields, with all its stream, He saw the Ganges flowing: still 630 For greed, base greed 'twould not suffice. One honors kings and courts of kings, Not that his careful husbandmen Forever stooping o'er the plow May never cease their toil for him; Or that his peasantry may till 635 His thousand fields: but wealth alone, Which he may hoard away, he seeks. Another worships kings, that so All other men he may oppress, May ruin many, none assist; And with this sole aim covets power, That he may use it ill. How few live out their fated span! 640 Whom yesternight saw radiant With joy, the newborn day beholds In wretched case. How rare it is To find old age and happiness Combined. More soft than Tyrian couch, The greensward soothes to fearless sleep; 645 But gilded ceilings break our rest, And sleepless through the night we lie On beds of luxury. Oh, should the rich lay bare their hearts, What fears which lofty fortune breeds Would be revealed! The Bruttian coast 650 When Corus lashes up the sea Is calmer far. Not so the poor: His heart is ever full of peace. From shallow beechen cups he drinks, But not with trembling hands; his food Is cheap and common, but he sees 655 No naked sword above his head. 'Tis in the cup of gold alone That blood is mingled with the wine. The poor man's wife no necklace wrought Of costly pearls, the red sea's gift, 660 May wear; no gems from eastern shores Weigh down her ears; nor does she wear Soft scarlet wools in Tyrian dye Twice dipped; not hers with Lydian art To 'broider costly silks whose threads 665 The Serians under sunlit skies From orient treetops gather; she With common herbs must dye the web Which she with unskilled hands has wov'n: But still her husband is her own, 670 Her couch by rivals undisturbed. But favored brides, whose wedding day The thronging people celebrate, Fate with her cruel torch pursues. The poor no happiness can know Unless he sees the fortunate From their high station fallen. Whoever shuns the middle course 675 Can never in safe pathways go. When once bold Phaëthon essayed Within his father's car to stand And give the day, and did not fare Along the accustomed track, but sought With wandering wheels to make his way 680 With Phoebus' torch 'midst unknown stars-- Himself he ruined and the earth In one destruction. Daedalus The middle course of heaven pursued, And so to peaceful shores attained And gave no sea its name. His son, 685 Young Icarus, dared rival birds In flight, despised his father's wings, And soared high up into the realm Of Phoebus' rays: headlong he fell And to an unknown sea his name He gave. So are great fortunes joined 690 To mighty ills. Let others then as fortunate And great be hailed; I wish no share Of popular renown. My boat Is frail and needs must hug the shore. And let no strong wind force my bark 695 Far out to sea; for fortune spares Safe-harbored boats, but seeks the ships In mid sea proudly sailing on, Their topsails in the clouds. But why with pallid face, in fear, 700 Like some Bacchante smitten sore With madness, comes our princess forth? What new reverse of fortune's wheel Has come to vex thy tortured soul? For though thou speakest ne'er a word, poor queen, Whate'er thou hidest, in thy face is seen.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] Reading, _celsus_.

[28] Reading, _ripis_.

[29] Reading, _fluentem_.

ACT III

_Deianira_ [_hurrying distractedly out of the palace_]: A nameless terror fills my stricken limbs, 705 My hair stands up in horror, and my soul, But now so passion tossed, is dumb with fear; My heart beats wildly, and my liver throbs With pulsing veins. As when the storm-tossed sea 710 Still heaves and swells, although the skies are clear And winds have died away; so is my mind Still tossed and restless, though my fear is stayed. When once the fortunate begin to feel The wrath of god, their sorrows never cease. For so does fortune ever end in woe.

_Nurse:_ What new distress, poor soul, has come to thee? 715

_Deianira:_ But now, when I had sent away the robe With Nessus' poisoned blood besmeared, and I, With sad forebodings, to my chamber went, Some nameless fear oppressed my anxious heart, A fear of treachery. I thought to prove The charm. Fierce Nessus, I bethought me then, Had bidden me to keep the blood from flame; 720 And this advice itself foreboded fraud. It chanced the sun was shining, bright and warm, Undimmed by clouds. As I recall it now, My fear scarce suffers me to tell the tale.[30] Into the blazing radiance of the sun 725 I cast the blood-stained remnant of the cloth With which the fatal garment had been smeared. The thing writhed horribly, and burst aflame As soon as Phoebus warmed it with his rays. Oh, 'tis a dreadful portent that I tell! As when the snows on Mimas' sparkling sides Are melted by the genial breath of spring; 730 As on Leucadia's crags the heaving waves Are dashed and break in foam upon the beach; Or as the incense on the holy shrines Is melted by the warming altar fires: So did the woolen fragment melt away. 735 And while in wonder and amaze I looked, The object of my wonder disappeared. Nay, e'en the ground itself began to foam, And what the poison touched to shrink away. [Hyllus _is seen approaching_.] But hither comes my son with face of fear, 740 And hurrying feet. [_To_ Hyllus.] What tidings dost thou bear?

_Hyllus:_ Oh, speed thee, mother, to whatever place On land or sea, among the stars of heaven, Or in the depths of hell, can keep thee safe Beyond the deadly reach of Hercules.

_Deianira:_ Some great disaster doth my mind presage. 745

_Hyllus:_ Hie thee to Juno's shrine, the victor's realm; This refuge waits thee 'midst the loss of all.

_Deianira:_ Tell what disaster hath o'erta'en me now.

_Hyllus:_ That glory and sole bulwark of the world, Whom in the place of Jove the fates had given 750 To bless the earth, O mother, is no more. A strange infection wastes Alcides' limbs; And he who conquered every form of beast, He, he, the victor is o'ercome with woe. What wouldst thou further hear?

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

_Hyllus:_ Not thou alone dost weep for Hercules; For in his fall the universe laments. Think not on private griefs; the human race Lifts up the voice of mourning. All the world 760 Is grieving with the selfsame grief thou feel'st. Thou shar'st thy misery with every land. Thou hast, indeed, forestalled their grief, poor soul; Thou first, but not alone, dost weep for him.

_Deianira:_ Yet tell me, tell, I pray, how near to death 765 Lies my Alcides now.

_Hyllus:_ Death flees his grasp, Death whom he conquered once in its own realm; Nor will the fates permit so great a crime. Perchance dread Clotho from her trembling hand Has thrown aside her distaff, and in fear Refuses to complete Alcides' fate. 770 O day, O awful day! and must this be The final day for mighty Hercules?

_Deianira:_ To death and the world of shades, to that dark realm, Dost say that he has gone already? Why, Oh, why may I not be the first to go? But tell me truly, if he still doth live.

_Hyllus:_ Euboea stands with high uplifted head, 775 On every side lashed by the tossing waves. Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea, And here rough Auster blows. But on the side Which feels the blast of snowy Aquilo, Euripus restless leads his wandering waves; Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high, 780 Seven times they sink again, before the sun His weary horses plunges in the sea. Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds, An ancient temple of Cenaean Jove Gleams far and wide. When at the altars stood The votive herd, and all the grove was full Of hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls; 785 Then Hercules put off his lion's skin With gore besmeared, his heavy club laid down, And freed his shoulders of the quiver's weight. Then, gleaming brightly in the robe thou gav'st, His shaggy locks with hoary poplar wreathed, He lit the altar fires, and prayed: "O Jove, 790 Not falsely called my father, take these gifts And let the sacred fire blaze brightly up With copious incense, which the Arab rich From Saba's trees in worship of the sun Collects. All monsters of the earth, the sea, The sky have been subdued at last, and I, As victor over all, am home returned. 795 Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then. But even as he prayed a heavy groan Fell from his lips, and he was horror struck And mute awhile. And then with dreadful cries He filled the air. As when a votive bull Feels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax, And flees away, retaining still the steel, And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall; 800 Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky: So did Alcides smite the very stars And sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard, The Cyclades re-echoed with the sound, Caphereus' rocky crags and all the grove Resounded with the groans of Hercules. 805 We saw him weep. The common people deemed His former madness had come back to him. His servants fled away in fear. But he, With burning gaze, seeks one among them all, Ill-fated Lichas, who, with trembling hands 810 Upon the altar, even then forestalled Through deadly fear the bitter pangs of death, And so left meager food for punishment. Then did Alcides grasp the quivering corpse And cried: "By such a hand as this, ye fates, Shall it be said that I was overcome? Has Lichas conquered Hercules? See then Another slaughter: Hercules in turn 815 Slays Lichas. Be my noble deeds by this Dishonored; let this be my crowning task." He spake, and high in air the wretched boy Was hurled, the very heavens with his gore Besprinkling. So the Getan arrow flies, Far leaping from the bowman's hand; so flies The Cretan dart, but far within the mark. 820 His head against the jagged rocks is dashed, His headless body falls into the sea, Death[31] claiming both. "But hold," Alcides said, "No madness steals my reason as of yore; This is an evil greater far than rage Of madness; 'gainst myself alone I turn." 825 He stays him not to tell his cause of woe, But rages wildly, tearing at his flesh, His huge limbs rending with his savage hands. He strove to tear away the fatal robe; But this alone of all his mighty deeds Alcides could not do. Yet striving still To tear the garment off, he tore the flesh. The robe seemed part of that gigantic form, 830 Yea, part and parcel of the flesh itself. The cause of this dire suffering is hid, But yet there is a cause. His pain at length Unable to endure, prone on the earth He grovels; now for cooling water calls. But water has no power to soothe his pain. 835 He seeks the shore and plunges in the sea, The while his servant's hands direct his steps. Oh, bitter lot, that mighty Hercules Should come to be the mate of common men! And now a vessel from Euboea's shore Bears off the ponderous bulk of Hercules, The gentle southwind wafting it along. 840 His spirit from his mighty frame has fled, And o'er his eyes have fall'n the shades of night.

_Deianira:_ Why dost thou hesitate? why stand amazed, O soul, that thus at last the deed is done?[32] But Jove demands again his son of thee; Juno, her rival; yea, to all the world Must he be given back. Vain such appeal. Make then what reparation[33] yet thou mayst: Through this my guilty body let the sword 845 Be driven. Thus, thus, 'tis well that it be done. But can this puny hand of mine atone For crime so great? O sire of Hercules, Destroy me with thy hurtling thunderbolt, Thy guilty daughter. With no common dart Arm thine avenging hand; but use that shaft With which, had Hercules ne'er sprung from thee, 850 Thou wouldst have scorched the hydra. As a pest Unprecedented smite me, as a scourge Far worse to bear than any stepdame's wrath. Such bolt as once at wandering Phaëthon Thou hurledst, aim at me. For I myself Have ruined all mankind in Hercules. 855 But why demand a weapon of the gods? For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wife Should pray for death. Let prayers give way to deeds, And from myself let me demand my death. Take then the sword in haste. But why the sword? Whate'er can work my death is sword enough. From some heaven-piercing cliff I'll cast me down. 860 Yea, let our neighboring Oeta be my choice, Whose top is first to greet the newborn day. From its high peak I'll hurl me down to death. May I be rent asunder on its crags, And every rock demand some part of me; Let sharp projections pierce my mangled hands, And all the rugged mountainside be red 865 With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true; But still its agony can be prolonged. O hesitating soul, thou canst not choose What form of death to die. Oh, that the sword Of Hercules within my chamber hung! How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die! But is't enough that by one hand I fall? 870 Assemble, all ye nations of the world, And hurl upon me rocks and blazing brands; Let no hand shirk its task of punishment, For your avenger have I done to death. Now with impunity shall cruel kings Their scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise 875 With none to let; again shall shrines be sought, Where worshiper and victim are alike In human form. A broad highway for crime Have I prepared; and, by removing him Who was their bulwark, have exposed mankind To every form of monstrous man and beast And savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work, 880 O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not, In imitation of thy brother, snatch From his own hand the fiery thunderbolt, And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lost Great praise and mighty triumph by my act: I have forestalled thee, Juno, in the death Of this thy rival.

_Hyllus:_ Wouldst to ruin doom Thy house already tottering? This crime, Whate'er it is, is all from error sprung. 885 He is not guilty who unwitting sins.

_Deianira:_ Whoe'er ignores his fate and spares himself, Deservedly has erred, deserves to die.

_Hyllus:_ He must be guilty who desires to die.

_Deianira:_ Death, only, makes the erring innocent. 890

_Hyllus:_ Fleeing the sun--

_Deianira:_ The sun himself flees me.

_Hyllus:_ Wouldst leave thy life?

_Deianira:_ A wretched life indeed; I long to go where Hercules has gone.

_Hyllus:_ He still survives, and breathes the air of heaven.

_Deianira:_ Alcides died when first he was o'ercome.

_Hyllus:_ Wilt leave thy son behind? forestall thy fates? 895

_Deianira:_ She whom her own son buries has lived long.

_Hyllus:_ Follow thy husband.

_Deianira:_ Chaste wives go before.

_Hyllus:_ Who dooms himself to death confesses sin.

_Deianira:_ No sinner seeks to shirk his punishment.

_Hyllus:_ The life of many a man has been restored 900 Whose guilt in judgment not in action lay. Who blames the lot by fate assigned to him?

_Deianira:_ He blames it to whom fate has been unkind.

_Hyllus:_ But Hercules himself killed Megara, And by his raging hands with deadly darts 905 Transfixed his sons. Still, though a parricide, Thrice guilty, he forgave himself the deed, Blaming his madness. In Cinyphian waves In Libya's land he washed his sin away, And cleansed his hands. Then why, poor soul, shouldst thou So hastily condemn thine own misdeeds?

_Deianira:_ The fact that I have ruined Hercules 910 Condemns my deeds. I welcome punishment.

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

_Deianira:_ The hydra's venom preys upon his frame; A boundless pestilence consumes his limbs. 915

_Hyllus:_ Think'st thou the poison of that serpent, slain, Cannot be overcome by that brave man Who met the living foe and conquered it? He slew the hydra, and victorious stood, Though in his flesh the poisonous fangs were fixed, And o'er his limbs the deadly venom flowed. 920 Shall he, who overcame dread Nessus' self, By this same Nessus' blood be overcome?

_Deianira:_ 'Tis vain to stay one who is bent on death. It is my will at once to flee the light. Who dies with Hercules has lived enough.

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

_Deianira:_ Whoe'er persuades the wretched not to die Is cruel. Death is sometimes punishment, 930 But oft a boon, and brings forgiveness oft.

_Nurse:_ Restrain at least thy hand, unhappy child, That he may know the deed was born of fraud, And was not purposed by his wife's design.

_Deianira:_ I'll plead my cause before the bar of hell, Whose gods, I think, will free me from my guilt, Though I am self-condemned; these guilty hands 935 Will Pluto cleanse for me. Then, on thy banks, O Lethe, with my memory clean I'll stand, A grieving shade, awaiting him I love. But thou, who rulest o'er the world of gloom, Prepare some toil for me, some dreadful toil; For this my fault outweighs all other sins That heart of man has ever dared to do. Nay, Juno's self was never bold enough 940 To rob the grieving world of Hercules. Let Sisyphus from his hard labor cease, And let his stone upon my shoulders press; Let vagrant waves flee from my eager lips, And that elusive water mock my thirst. Upon thy whirling spokes have I deserved 945 To be stretched out, O king of Thessaly. Let greedy vultures feed upon my flesh. One from the tale of the Danaïdes Is lacking[34] yet; let me the number fill. Ye shades, make room for me; O Colchian wife, Receive me as thy comrade there below. 950 My deed is worse, far worse than both thy crimes, Though thou as mother and as sister, too, Hast sinned. Thou also, cruel queen of Thrace, Take me as comrade of thy crimes. And thou, Althaea, take thy daughter, for indeed Thou shalt discern in me thy daughter true. And yet not one of you has ever done 955 Such deed as mine. O all ye faithful wives, Who have your seats within the sacred groves, Expel me from Elysium's blessed fields. But faithless wives, who with their husbands' blood Have stained their hands, who have forgotten quite Their marriage vows and stood with naked sword 960 Like Belus' bloody daughters, they will know My deeds for theirs and praise them as their own. To such a company of wives 'tis meet That I betake myself; but even they Will shun such dire companionship as mine. O husband, strong, invincible, believe My soul is innocent, although my hands Are criminal. O mind too credulous! 965 O Nessus, false and skilled in bestial guile! Striving my hated rival to remove, I have destroyed myself. O beaming sun, And thou, O life, that by thy coaxing arts Dost strive to hold the wretched in the light, Begone! for every day is vile to me That shineth not upon my Hercules. 970 Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferings And give my life for thee. Or shall I wait And keep myself for death at thy right hand? Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy hands Still bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft? Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow 975 No more obedient to thy nerveless hand? But if, perchance, thou still art strong to slay, Undaunted husband, I await thy hand; Yea, for this cause will I postpone my death. As thou didst Lichas crush, though innocent, Crush me, to other cities scatter me, Yea, hurl me to a land to thee unknown. 980 Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar, And every monster that resisted[35] thee. But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst come Victorious and safe.

_Hyllus:_ Give o'er, I pray, My mother; cease to blame thy guiltless fates. Thy deed was but an error, not a fault.