Part 6
HER. Will ye not cast from your dishevelled hair These wreaths of Pluto? will ye not look up To yon bright sun, and ope your eyes to view Scenes far more pleasing than the loathsome shades Of hell beneath? But I, for wrongs like these Demand my vengeful arm, with speed will go And overturn the house of that new king, His impious head I to the ravenous hounds Lopped from his trunk will cast, and each base Theban Who with ingratitude repays my kindness With this victorious weapon smite: my shafts The rest shall scatter, till Ismenos’ channel Be choked up with the corses of the slain, And Dirce’s limpid fountain stream with gore. For whom, in preference to my wife, my children, And aged father, shall I aid? Farewell, Ye labours which unwittingly I strove T’ accomplish, mindless of these dearest pledges; In their defence I equally am bound To yield up life, if for their father they Were doomed to bleed. What! shall we call it noble To war against the hydra or the lion, And execute the mandates of Eurystheus, If I avert not my own children’s death? No longer else shall I, as erst, be styled Alcides the victorious.
CHOR. It is just Parents should aid their sons, their aged sire, And the dear partner of the nuptial bed.
AMP. My son, this mighty privilege is yours, To be the best of friends to those you love, And a determined foe to those you hate. But be not too impetuous.
HER. In what instance Have I been hastier, O my honoured sire, Than it becomes me?
AMP. To support his cause, The king hath many, who in fact are poor, Though fame accounts them rich; they raised a tumult, And caused the ruin of the state, to plunder Their neighbours; for the fortunes they possessed Are through their own extravagance and sloth Reduced to nothing. As the gates you entered, These could not fail to see you: O beware Lest since you by your foes have been perceived, You perish when you least foresee your danger, Oppressed by numbers.
HER. Though all Thebes beheld me, I care not. But when I descried a bird Of evil omen perched aloof, I knew That there had some calamity befallen My house, and therefore with presaging soul In secrecy I entered these domains.
AMP. Draw near with pious awe, my son, salute The Lares, and display that welcome face In your paternal mansions. For to drag Your wife and children forth, with me your sire To murder us, the king himself will come. But all will prosper, if you here remain, And a secure asylum will you find, Nor through the city spread a loud alarm Ere your designs succeed.
HER. Thus will I act, For thou hast rightly spoken; I am entering The palace. From the sunless caves beneath Of Proserpine, after a long delay Returning, first to our domestic gods Will I be mindful to address my vows.
AMP. Have you indeed then visited the house Of Pluto, O my son?
HER. And thence the dog With triple-head brought to these realms of light.
AMP. Conquered in battle, or on you bestowed By hell’s indulgent goddess?
HER. I prevailed O’er him in combat, and have been so happy As to behold the far-famed mystic orgies.
AMP. But is the beast lodged in Eurystheus’ palace?
HER. Him Cthonia’s groves and Hermion’s walls confine.
AMP. Knows not Eurystheus that you are returned Into this upper world?
HER. He doth not know: For I came first to learn what passes here.
AMP. But wherefore in the realms beneath, so long Did you remain?
HER. I there prolonged may stay, My sire, to bring back Theseus from the shades.
AMP. And where is he, gone to his native land?
HER. He went to Athens, pleased with his escape From the infernal regions. But attend Your father to the palace, O my sons, Which now ye enter in a happier state Than when ye left it: but take courage, cease To pour forth floods of tears; and, O my wife, Collect thyself, let all thy terrors cease, And loose my garments; for I have not wings, Nor would I vanish from my friends. Alas! Their hold they quit not, but cling faster still, And faster to my vest. Because ye stand Upon the verge of ruin, I will take And bear you hence, as by the ship light boats Are guided o’er the deep: for I refuse not The care my children claim. Here all mankind Are on a level, they of nobler rank And mean condition, to their progeny Bear equal love. The gifts of fortune vary, Some have abundant wealth, and some are poor; But the whole human race feels this attachment.
[_Exeunt_ HERCULES _and_ MEGARA, _with the children_.
CHORUS.
ODE.
I.
Youth is light, and free from care But now a burden on my head Heavier than Ætna’s rock, old age, I bear. Before these eyes its sable veil is spread. Not for the wealth of Asiatic kings, Or heaps of gold that touched yon roof sublime, Ere would I barter life’s enchanting prime; Hence wealth a brighter radiance flings, And poverty itself can charm: But thou, curst dotage, art the sum Of every fancied, every real harm; May’st thou be plunged beneath the deep, nor come To peopled town, or civilized abode, Go wing thy distant flight along th’ aërial road.
I. 2.
Did the gods with sapient care Mete out their bounty to mankind, The good, the gift of twofold youth should share Unquestioned token of a virtuous mind, Behold life’s son its blest career renew, While the degenerate sleep to wake no more. We by these means distinctly might explore Their merits with as clear a view, As sailors, who each starry spark Enumerate that adorns the skies. But now the gods have by no certain mark Directed whom we for their worth should prize, Whom shun as wicked: uninformed we live, Revolving time hath nought but plenteous wealth to give.
II. 1.
Mindful of its ancient themes, This faltering tongue shall ne’er refuse, Oft as I wander by their haunted streams, To blend each gentle grace and tuneful muse: O may I dwell among the harmonious choirs, My brows still circled with a laureate wreath! Still shall the bard, a hoary veteran, breathe The strains Mnemosuné inspires: While memory wakes, I ne’er will cease Th’ exploits of Hercules to sing; Where Bromius yields the purple vine’s increase, Where Libyan pipes and the lute’s sevenfold string Are heard in dulcet unison; to praise The Nine who aid the dance, I’ll wake my choral lays.
II. 2.
Delian virgins at the gate Assembled, festive pæans sing, The triumphs of Latona’s son relate, And nimbly vaulting form their beauteous ring. Into thy temple, by devotion led, O Phœbus, will I raise my parting breath; The swan thus warbles at the hour of death: Though hoary hairs my cheeks o’erspread. How great the hero’s generous love, Whose merits aid our votive song, Alcides the resistless son of Jove; Those trophies, which to noble birth belong By him are all surpassed, his forceful hand Restoring peace, hath cleansed this monster-teeming land.
LYCUS, AMPHITRYON, CHORUS.
LYC. Forth from the portals at due season comes Amphitryon; for ’tis long since ye were decked In robes and trappings such as suit the dead. But go, command the children and the wife Of Hercules without these gates t’ appear, Because ye have engaged that ye will die By your own hands.
AMP. You persecute, O king, Me whom already fortune hath made wretched, And with sharp taunts insult my dying race: Although in power supreme, you ought to act With moderation; but since you impose This harsh necessity, we must submit, And execute your will.
LYC. Where’s Megara? Where are the children of Alcmena’s son?
AMP. To me she seems, as far as I can guess, From looking through the door——
LYC. What grounds hast thou For this opinion?
AMP. In a suppliant posture To sit before the Lares.
LYC. And implore them With unavailing plaints to save her life.
AMP. In vain too calls she on her lord deceased.
LYC. But he is absent, he can ne’er return.
AMP. Unless some god should raise him up again.
LYC. Go thou, and from the palace lead her hither.
AMP. ’Twould make me an accomplice in the murder, If this I acted.
LYC. Since thy soul recoils, I, whom such idle scruples cannot move, Will with their mother bring the children forth. Follow my steps, my servants, that at length We may behold sweet peace succeed our toils.
[_Exit_ LYCUS.
AMP. Depart: for to that place the Fates ordain You now are on the road; perhaps the sequel Will be another’s province: but expect, Since you have done amiss, to suffer vengeance. He, O ye veterans, at a lucky hour Enters the palace, for on ambushed swords His feet will stumble, while the villain hopes Those he would murder are too near at hand To ’scape: but I will go to see him fall A breathless corse: for when our foe endures The just requital of his impious deeds, There is a joy resulting from his death.
[_Exit_ AMPHITRYON.
CHOR. Changed are our evil fortunes. To the shades He who was erst a mighty king descends. O justice, and ye dread vicissitudes Of fate, ordained by Heaven!
1st SEMICHOR. Thou art at length Gone thither, where by death thou for those taunts, With which thou o’er the virtuous didst exult, Shalt make atonement.
2nd SEMICHOR. My delight bursts forth In floods of tears: for now is come that day The tyrant deemed would never visit him.
1st SEMICHOR. But let us also look into the palace, My aged friend, and mark if yonder miscreant Be punished as I wish.
LYC. [_within._] Ah me! ah me!
CHOR. That melody most grateful to mine ear Beneath yon roofs commences; nor is death Far distant; for these cries the monarch utters Are but a prelude to the fatal stroke.
LYC. [_within._] Ye realms of Cadmus, I through treachery perish!
2nd SEMICHOR. Others have perished by that bloody hand. Since then the retribution thou endur’st Is just, endure it bravely.
1st SEMICHOR. Where is he Who uttered ’gainst the blest immortal powers His foolish blasphemies, and called the gods Too weak to punish him?
2nd SEMICHOR. That impious man Is now no more. Yon vaulted roofs are silent, Let us begin the harmonious choral lay; For, as I wished, our comrades prove victorious.
CHORUS.
ODE.
I. 1.
The sumptuous banquet, with th’ enlivening dance Now every Theban shall employ; Dried are our tears, and past mischance Yields to the lyre abundant themes of joy: Stretched low in dust the tyrant lies; But he, who by an ancient right Obtains the sceptre, is our king; From Acheron’s loathed stream behold him rise, Revisiting the cheerful realms of light, And hope, unlooked for, doth fresh transports bring.
I. 2.
The gods take cognizance of broken trust, Nor are they deaf to holy prayer. On gold and fortune, power unjust Attends; man’s reason is too weak to bear The joint temptations. Heaven at length, Whose kind protection we invoke, Deigning with pity to behold Our woes, to the neglected laws their strength Restoring, with vindictive fury broke The sable car which bore the god of gold.
II. 1.
Now let the flowery wreath, the victor’s pride, Adorn Ismenos; let each street employ The hours in dance and social joy; Let Dirce from the silver wave arise, And old Asopus’ daughters by her side, Forsaking their paternal stream, Conspire to aid our rapturous theme, And for Alcides claim the victor’s prize. Ye Pythian rocks, with waving forests crowned, And seats of Helicon’s melodious choir, Come every nymph, with cheerful sound, Visit these walls which to the clouds aspire; In helmed crop here warriors filled the plains. Whose lineage undecayed from age to age remains.
II. 2.
O ye, the partners of one nuptial bed, Happy Amphitryon, sprung from mortal race, And Jove, who rushed to the embrace Of bright Alcmena; for of thee aright, Though erst, O Jove, I doubted, was it said Thou didst enjoy that beauteous dame; With the renown his triumphs claim, Time through the world displays Alcides’ might, Emerged from grisly Pluto’s realms abhorred, Who quits the darksome caverns of the earth, To me a far more welcome lord, Than yon vile tyrant of ignoble birth. Now to the bloody strife we lift our eyes; The vengeful sword is bared, if Justice haunt the skies.
SEMICHOR. Ha! are we all by the same panic seized? My aged friends, what spectre, hovering o’er The palace, do I see? Those tardy feet Raise from the ground, precipitate thy flight, Be gone.—From me, O Pæan, mighty king, Avert these evils.
IRIS, A FIEND, CHORUS.
IRIS. O, ye aged men, Be not dismayed: the fiend whom ye behold Is daughter of old Night, and I am Iris, The gods’ ambassadress. We are not come To harm your city; for we only war Against one man, who, sprung ’tis said from Jove And from Alcmena: till he had performed Severest labours, fate preserved his life; Nor did his father Jove permit, or me, Or Juno, e’er to hurt him: but, each toil Eurystheus’ hate enjoined, now he hath finished, Those oft-polluted hands with recent gore Will Juno stain, by urging him to slay His children: in this scheme I too conspire. Come on then, armed with a relentless heart, Unwedded daughter of the pitchy Night; Instil into that hero’s breast such frenzy As shall o’erturn his reason, and constrain him To perpetrate this murder; his wild steps Goad onward, throw the bloody cable forth, That having sent this band of graceful sons, Slain by their father’s arm, adown the gulf Of Acheron, th’ effects of Juno’s wrath And mine, he may experience; for the gods Would be mere things of no account, but great Would be the power of man, if he escaped Unpunished.
FIEND. I from noble parents spring, Night is my mother; and that blood which streamed From the foul wound of Ouranus, my sire: To me belongs this praise, I ’gainst my friend No envious rancour feel, nor with delight Invade them; but this counsel would suggest To you and Juno, ere I see you rush Into a fatal error, if my words Can move you: he into whose house you send me Is not obscure, or in the realms beneath, Or yet among the gods: for when o’er lands, Impervious erst, and o’er the stormy waves, He had established peace, he to the gods Their ancient honours, which by impious men Had been abolished, singly did restore. I therefore would dissuade you from contriving ’Gainst him these mischiefs.
IRIS. Blame not thou the schemes Devised by Juno and by me.
FIEND. Your steps Into a better path, from that which leads To evil, would I turn.
IRIS. The wife of Jove Sent thee not hither to act thus discreetly.
FIEND. Witness, thou sun, reluctant I obey. But if constrained to be the instrument Of Juno’s wrath and yours, I with such speed As when the hounds obey the huntsman’s voice, Your signal will attend; nor shall the deep Upheaving with a groan its troubled waves, The earthquake, or the thunderbolt, whose blast Is winged with fate, outstrip me, when I rush Into the breast of Hercules: the gates Will I burst open, and assail the house, First causing his devoted sons to bleed; Nor shall their murderer know that his own hand Slew those whom he begot, till he is rescued From the distraction I inspire. Behold He at the barrier stands, and shakes his head, And rolls in silence his distorted eyes, Flaming with anger. To contain his breath No longer able, like a bull, prepared To make the terrible assault, he bellows, And calls the Furies from the dire abyss Of Tartarus. Thee I to a greater height Of frenzy soon will rouse, and through thy soul Cause my terrific clarion to resound. O noble Iris, to Olympus’ height Now wing your swift career, while I, unseen, Will enter the abodes of Hercules.
[_Exeunt_ IRIS _and the_ FIEND.
CHOR. Thou city, groan; thy choicest flower, The son of Jove, is cropped: O Greece, Thy benefactor’s fatal hour Impends. To thee for ever lost, Assailed by that infernal pest, The dauntless chief, deprived of peace, Shall feel his agonizing breast With horrible distraction tossed. Hence in her brazen chariot went The raging fiend, on mischief bent; She urges with a scorpion goad Her steeds along th’ ethereal road. That hundred-headed child of Night. With all those hissing snakes around, From her envenomed eyeballs bright The Gorgon thus directs the wound. Soon changed by Heaven’s supreme decree, Is man’s short-lived felicity. Ye infants, soon shall ye expire, Slain by your own distracted sire. Ah me! thy son, without delay, Shall be left childless, mighty Jove; For on his tortured soul shall prey Yon fiend, and by the powers above Vengeance commissioned to destroy. O mansion erst the scene of joy! To form a prelude to this dance, Neither the cheering timbrel’s sound, Nor sportive Menades advance; Here human gore shall stream around, Instead of that refreshing juice, Which Bacchus’ purple grapes produce. Away, ye children, danger’s nigh, For he who wakes this hostile strain, Traces your footsteps as ye fly; Nor will the fiend with fruitless rage, A war beneath those mansions wage. Alas! we sink o’erwhelmed with woe, My tears shall never cease to flow. I wail the grandsire hoar with age, The mother too who bore that train Of lovely children, but in vain. Lo, what a tempest shakes the wall, And makes th’ uprooted mansion fall! What mean’st thou, frantic son of Jove? The hellish uproar thou dost raise, Filling the palace with amaze, Is such as vexed the realms above, Till issuing with victorious might, Pallas invincible in fight The huge Enceladus oppressed, And piled all Ætna on his breast.
MESSENGER, CHORUS.
MES. O ye whose heads are whitened o’er with age!
CHOR. Why dost thou call me with so loud a voice?
MES. Atrocious are the mischiefs which have happened Within the palace.
CHOR. I need now call in No other seer. The boys are slain. Ah me!
MES. Indulge your groans, for such events as these Demand them.
CHOR. By a foe, e’en by the hand Of their own sire, in whom that foe they found.
MES. No tongue can utter woes beyond what we Have suffered.
CHOR. What account hast thou to give Of the dire fate the father on his sons Inflicted? Sent by the avenging gods, Say why such mischiefs visited this house, And how the children miserably fell.