Part 19

_Deianira:_ My son, if thou wouldst truly filial be, Come, slay thy mother. Why with trembling hand 985 Dost thou stand there? Why turn away thy face? Such crime as this is truest piety. Still dost thou lack incentive for the deed? Behold, this hand took Hercules from thee, Took that great sire through whom thou dost derive Thy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from thee A greater glory than the life I gave 990 At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime, Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the sword Into my neck, or sheath it in my womb, I'll make thy soul courageous for the deed. Thou wilt not be the doer of this crime; For though 'tis by thy hand that I shall fall, 995 'Twill be my will. O son of Hercules, Art thou afraid? Wilt thou not be like him, Perform thy bidden tasks, the monsters slay? Prepare thy dauntless hand. Behold my breast, So full of cares, lies open to thy stroke. 1000 Smite: I forgive the deed; the very fiends, The dread Eumenides, will spare thy hand. But hark! I hear their dreadful scourges sound. See! Who is that who coils her snaky locks, And at her ugly temples brandishes Two deadly[36] darts? Why dost thou follow me, 1005 O dire Megaera, with thy blazing brand? Dost thou seek penalty for Hercules? I will discharge it. O thou dreadful one, Already have the arbiters of hell Passed judgment on me? Lo, I see the doors Of that sad prison-house unfold for me. Who is that ancient man who on his back, Worn with the toil, the stone's huge burden heaves? 1010 And even as I look the conquered stone Rolls back again. Who on the whirling wheel Is racked? And see! There stands Tisiphone, With ghastly, cruel face; she seeks revenge. Oh, spare thy scourge, Megaera, spare, I pray, Thy Stygian brands. 'Twas love that prompted me. 1015 But what is this? The earth is tottering, The palace roof is crashing to its fall. Whence comes that threatening throng? Against me comes The whole world rushing; see, on every side The nations gnash at me, demanding back Their savior. O ye cities, spare, I pray. 1020 Oh, whither shall I hide me from their rage? Death is the only haven left to me. By gleaming Phoebus' fiery disk I swear, By all the gods of heaven: I go to death, But leave Alcides still upon the earth.

[_She rushes from the scene._]

_Hyllus:_ Ah me, in mood of frenzy has she fled. My mother's part in this sad tragedy 1025 Is self-assigned; she is resolved to die. My part remains to thwart her dread resolve. O wretched piety! O filial love! If now my mother's death I should prevent, I wrong my father; if I let her die, 'Gainst her I sin. Crime stands on either hand; Yet must I check her and true crime withstand. 1030

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_Chorus:_ The sacred singer's word was true Which once on Thracian Rhodope, Orpheus, the heavenly Muse's son, Sang to his lute Pierian: That naught for endless life is made. 1035 At his sweet strains the rushing stream Its uproar stilled, and all its waves Paused in forgetfulness of flight; And while the waters stayed to hear, 1040 The tribes far down the Hebrus' stream Deemed that their river was no more. All wingéd creatures of the wood And e'en the woods themselves came near To listen; or, if far on high Some bird was wheeling through the air, 1045 To that sweet music swift he fell On drooping wings. The mountains came: Rough Athos with its Centaur herd, And Rhodope, its drifted snows Loosed by the magic of that song, 1050 Stood by to hear. The Dryads left The shelter of their oaken trunks And gathered round the tuneful bard. The beasts came, too, and with them came 1055 Their lairs; hard by the fearless flocks The tawny Afric lion crouched; The timid does feared not the wolves; And serpents crawled forth to the light, Their venom quite forgot. 1060 When through the doors of Taenara He made his way to the silent land, Sounding his mournful lyre the while, The glooms of Tartara were filled With his sad song; and the sullen gods Of Erebus were moved to tears. 1065 He feared not the pool of the Stygian stream By whose dread waves the heavenly gods Make oath unbreakable. The whirling rim of the restless wheel Stood still, its breathless speed at rest. 1070 The immortal liver of Tityos Grew, undevoured, while at the song The spellbound birds forgot their greed. Thou, too, didst hear, O boatman grim, And thy bark that plies the infernal stream With oars all motionless came on. Then first the hoary Phrygian 1075 Forgot his thirst, although no more The mocking waters fled his lips But stood enchanted; now no more He reaches hungry hands to grasp The luscious fruit. When thus through that dark world of souls Sweet Orpheus poured such heavenly strains 1080 That the impious rock of Sisyphus Was moved to follow him; Then did the goddesses of fate Renew the exhausted thread of life For fair Eurydice. But when, Unmindful of the law they gave, 1085 And scarce believing that his wife Was following, the hapless man Looked back, he lost his prize of song; For she, who to the very verge Of life had come again, fell back And died again. Then, seeking solace still in song, 1090 Orpheus unto the Getans sang:

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The gods themselves are under law, Yea he, who through the changing year Directs the seasons in their course. 1095

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Dead Hercules bids us believe The bard, that not for any man The fates reweave the broken web; And that all things which have been born, 1100 And shall be, are but born to die. When to the world the day shall come On which the reign of law shall cease, Then shall the southern heavens fall, And overwhelm broad Africa 1105 With all her tribes; the northern skies Shall fall upon those barren plains Where sweep the blasts of Boreas. Then from the shattered heaven the sun Shall fall, and day shall be no more. 1110 The palace of the heavenly ones Shall sink in ruins, dragging down The east and western skies. Then death And chaos shall o'erwhelm the gods 1115 In common ruin; and at last, When all things else have been destroyed, Death shall bring death unto itself. Where shall the earth find haven then? Will hades open wide her doors To let the shattered heavens in? 1120 Or is the space 'twixt heaven and earth Not great enough (perchance too great) For all the evils of the world? What place is great enough to hold Such monstrous ills of fate?[37] What place Will hold the gods? Shall one place then 1125 Contain three kingdoms--sea and sky And Tartara?-- But what outrageous clamor this That fills our frightened ears? Behold, It is the voice of Hercules. 1130

FOOTNOTES:

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

[31] Reading, _funus_.

[32] Reading, _quid stupes factum scelus?_

[33] Reading, _reddi_.

[34] Reading, _vacat_.

[35] Reading, _restitit_.

[36] Reading, _atras_.

[37] Reading, _fati_.

ACT IV

[_Enter_ Hercules _in the extremity of suffering_.]

_Hercules:_ Turn back thy panting steeds, thou shining sun, And bid the night come forth. Blot out the day, And let the heavens, with pitchy darkness filled, Conceal my dying pains from Juno's eyes. Now, father, were it fitting to recall Dark chaos; now the joinings of the skies 1135 Should be asunder rent, and pole from pole Be cleft. Why, father, dost thou spare the stars? Thy Hercules is lost. Now, Jupiter, Look well to every region of the heavens, Lest any Gyas hurl again the crags Of Thessaly, and Othrys be again 1140 An easy missile for Enceladus. Now, even now will haughty Pluto loose The gates of hell, strike off his father's chains, And give him back to heaven. Since Hercules, Who on the earth has seen thy thunderbolt And lightning flash, must turn him back to Styx; Enceladus the fierce will rise again, 1145 And hurl against the gods that mighty weight Which now oppresses him. O Jupiter, My death throughout the kingdom of the sky Shall shake thy sovereignty. Then, ere thy throne Become the giants' spoil, give burial Beneath the ruined universe to me; Oh, rend thy kingdom ere 'tis rent from thee. 1150

_Chorus:_ No empty fears, O Thunderer's son, Dost thou express: for soon again Shall Pelion on Ossa rest; And Athos, heaped on Pindus, thrust Its woods amidst the stars of heaven. Then shall Typhoeus heave aside 1155 The crags of Tuscan Ischia; Enceladus, not yet o'ercome By thunderbolts, shall bear aloft The huge Aetnaean furnaces, And rend the gaping mountain side. So shall it be; for even now The skies are tottering with thy fall. 1160

_Hercules:_ Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death, Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's pool Returned with spoil so grim and terrible, That Titan from his reeling chariot Was well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt: I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword 1165 Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag, All Othrys, been the weapon of my death; No giant with his fierce and gaping jaws Has heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse. Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed; 1170 And, what brings greater anguish to my soul (Shame to my manhood!), this my final day Has seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me! My life is squandered--and for no return. O thou, whose rule is over all the world; Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds; O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules 1175 Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame! Oh, base and bitter end--that fame should say Great Hercules was by a woman slain, He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[38] So many men and beasts! If changeless fate Had willed that I by woman's hand should die, 1180 And if to such base end my thread of life, Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallen By Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand, But one who holds the heavens in her sway. If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask, The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skies Brought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength. But by what woman's hand shall I be said, 1185 Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain? This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame. Why shouldst thou call this day a day of joy? What baleful thing like this has earth produced To sate thy wrath? A mortal woman's hate Has far excelled thine own. 'Twas late thy shame, 1190 To feel thyself by Hercules alone Outmatched; but now must thou confess thyself By two o'ercome. Shame on such heavenly wrath! Oh, that the Nemean lion of my blood Had drunk his fill, and Oh, that I had fed The hydra with his hundred snaky heads Upon my gore! Oh, that the centaurs fierce 1195 Had made a prey of me; or 'midst the shades I, bound upon the everlasting rock, Were sitting, lost in misery! But no: From every distant land I've taken spoil, While fate looked on amazed; from hellish Styx Have I come back to earth; the bonds of Dis I have o'ercome. Death shunned me everywhere, 1200 That I might lack at last a glorious end. Alas for all the monsters I have slain! Oh, why did not three-headed Cerberus, When he had seen the sunlight, drag me back To hell? Why, far away 'neath western skies, Did not the monstrous shepherd lay me low? And those twin serpents huge--ah, woe is me, How often have I 'scaped a glorious death! 1205 What honor comes from such an end as this?

_Chorus:_ Dost see how, conscious of his fame, He does not shrink from Lethe's stream? Not grief for death, but shame he feels At this his cause of death; he longs Beneath some giant's vasty bulk 1210 To draw his final breath, to feel Some mountain-heaving Titan's weight Oppressing him, to owe his death To some wild, raging beast. But no, Poor soul, because of thine own hand There is no deadly monster more. 1215 What worthy author of thy death, Save that right hand of thine, is left?

_Hercules:_ Alas, what Scorpion, what Cancer, torn From Summer's burning zone, inflames my breast? My lungs, once filled with pulsing streams of blood, 1220 Are dry and empty now; my liver burns, Its healthy juices parched and dried away; And all my blood is by slow creeping fires Consumed. Destruction on my skin feeds first, Then deep within my flesh it eats its way, 1225 Devours my sides, my limbs and breast consumes, Dries up the very marrow of my bones. There in my empty bones the pest remains; Nor can my massive frame for long endure, But even now, with broken, crumbling joints, Begins to fall away. My strength is gone, 1230 And e'en the limbs of mighty Hercules Are not enough to satisfy this pest. Alas, how mighty must that evil be, When I confess it great! Oh, cruel wrong! Now see, ye cities, see what now remains Of famous Hercules. Dost know thy son, O father Jove? Was't with such arms as these 1235 That I crushed out the Nemean monster's life? Did this hand stretch that mighty bow of mine Which brought to earth from out the very stars The vile Stymphalian birds? These sluggish feet-- Did they outstrip the swiftly fleeing stag, With golden antlers gleaming on his head? Did rocky Calpe, shattered by these hands, 1240 Let out the sea? So many monstrous beasts, So many cruel men, so many kings-- Did these poor hands of mine destroy them all? Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest? Is this my mighty frame? Is this my neck? Are these the hands which once the tottering skies Upheld? Oh, can it be that ever I The Stygian watchdog dragged into the light? 1245 Where are those powers, which ere their proper time Are dead and buried? Why on Jupiter As father do I call? Why, wretched one, Do I lay claim to heaven by right of him? For now, Oh, now will I be thought the son Of old Amphitryon. O deadly pest, Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st, Come forth. Why with a hidden agony 1250 Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian sea Beneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow, What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shore Begot and brought thee forth? O evil dire! Art thou some crested serpent brandishing Its hideous head; or some fell thing of ill 1255 As yet unknown to me, produced perchance From Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earth By Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx? Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill. What are thy form and features? Grant at least That I may know the thing by which I die. Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou, 1260 Come out, and show thy terror to my face. What enemy has made a way for thee Unto my inmost heart? Behold my hands Have torn aside my burning skin and so My bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yet Its hiding-place. Oh, woe invincible As Hercules! But whence these grievous cries? 1265 And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks? My face, unmoved by grief, has never yet Been wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me, Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land, That has beheld the tears of Hercules? Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne. To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone 1270 That strength has yielded which so many ills Has overcome. Thou first, yea, first of all Hast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes. For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel, Or than the wandering Symplegades, Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears, Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world, 1275 O thou most mighty ruler of the skies, Has seen me giving way to tears and groans; And, that which brings me greater anguish still, My stepdame too has seen. But lo, again The scorching heat flames up and burns my heart. Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart.

_Chorus:_ Where is the strength that can withstand The power of suffering? But now More hard than Thracian Haemus' crags, 1280 Sterner than savage northern skies, He is by agony subdued. His fainting head upon his breast Falls low; his massive frame he shifts From side to side; now and again His manly courage dries his tears. 1285 So, with however warm a flame Bright Titan labors to dissolve The arctic snows, still are his fires By those bright, icy rays outshone.

_Hercules:_ O father, turn and look upon my woes. 1290 Never till now has great Alcides fled To thee for aid; not when around my limbs The deadly hydra, fertile in its death, Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the pools Of hell, by that thick pall of death I stood Surrounded close; and yet I called thee not. How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome, 1295 How many kings and tyrants; yet my face Have I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky. This hand of mine alone has been the god Who heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderbolts Have ever flashed from heaven on my account. But now at last has come a woeful time Which bids me ask for aid. This day, the first 1300 And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules. One thunderbolt I ask, and only one. Consider me a giant storming heaven. Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth; But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies. Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful, 1305 Stretch forth thy hand and grant me speedy death, And gain this great renown unto thy name. Or, if thy righteous hand refuse a task So impious, send forth from Sicily Those burning Titans, who with giant hands May Pindus huge upheave, and Ossa too, 1310 And overwhelm me with their crushing weight. Let dire Bellona burst the bars of hell, And with her gleaming weapon pierce my heart; Or let fierce Mars be arméd for my death; He is my brother; true, but Juno's son. Thou also, sprung from father Jove, and so Alcides' sister, bright Athene, come, 1315 And hurl thy spear against thy brother's breast. And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands, O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray, Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's hand I may be slain), thine anger soothed at last, Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thou Still nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge? 1320 Behold Alcides suppliant to thee, Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen. But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath, Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot? Thou giv'st me life when 'tis for death I pray. O lands, and countless cities of the earth, 1325 Is there no one among you all to bring A blazing torch for mighty Hercules? Will no one give me arms? Why take away My weapons from my hands? Then let no land Bring forth dire monsters more when I am dead, And let the world not ask for aid of mine. If other ills are born into the world, Then must another savior come as well. 1330 Oh, bring ye heavy stones from every side And hurl them at my wretched head; and so O'erwhelm at last my woes. Ungrateful world, Dost thou refuse? Hast thou forgot me quite? Thou wouldst thyself have been a helpless prey To evil monsters, had not I been born. Then, O ye peoples, rescue me from ill, 1335 Your champion. This chance is given you, By slaying me to cancel all you owe.

[_Enter_ Alcmena.]

_Alcmena:_ Where shall Alcides' wretched mother go? Where is my son? Lo, if I see aright, Yonder he lies with burning fever tossed And throbbing heart. I hear his groans of pain. 1340 Ah me, his life is at an end. My son, Come, let me fold thee in a last embrace, And catch thy parting spirit in my mouth; These arms of mine upon thine own I'll lay. But where are they? Where is that sturdy neck Which bore the burden of the starry heavens? What cause has left to thee so small a part Of thy once massive frame? 1345

_Hercules:_ Thou seest, indeed, The shadow and the piteous counterfeit Of thine Alcides. Come, behold thy son. But why dost turn away and hide thy face? Art thou ashamed that such as I am called Thy son?

_Alcmena:_ What land, what world has given birth To this new monster? What so dire a thing 1350 Has triumphed over mighty Hercules?

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

_Alcmena:_ What fraud is great enough to conquer thee?

_Hercules:_ Whate'er is great enough for woman's wrath.

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

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

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

_Hercules:_ With me 'tis all consumed.

_Alcmena:_ How can it be?

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

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