ACT IV
[_Enter_ Hercules, _fresh from the slaying of_ Lycus, _intending to offer sacrifices to the gods_.]
_Hercules:_ By my avenging hand lies Lycus slain; 895 And all, who in his life the tyrant claimed As comrades, now by death are comrades still In punishment. Now will I offerings pay Unto my father and the gods of heaven For victory, and heap the altars high With bleeding victims to their kindness due. 900 Thee, thee, O friend and helper in my toils, O warlike Pallas, unto thee I pray, Upon whose left the petrifying shield Makes direful threats. And be thou here I pray, Thou tamer of Lycurgus, who didst cross The ruddy sea, who in thy hand dost bear The thyrsus, ivy-wreathed; and ye twin gods, Apollo and Diana, hear my prayer. 905 (Her hand the bow adorns, but his, the lyre.) Ye, too, I worship, all ye brothers mine, Who dwell in heaven; but not my stepdame's sons. [_To his attendants._] And do ye hither drive my richest flocks; Whatever fragrant spices India bears 910 And far Arabia, to the altars bring, And let the savory smoke of sacrifice To heaven ascend. Now let us crown our locks With wreaths of poplar; but the olive leaves, Thy nation's symbol, should adorn thy head, O Theseus. Now in prayer we lift our hands To Jove the Thunderer: do thou protect 915 The founders of our state, the wooded caves Of savage Zethus, Dirce's famous fount, And the Tyrian lares of our pilgrim king. [_To the attendants._] Now throw the fragrant incense on the flames.
_Amphitr.:_ O son, thy hands, all dripping with the blood Of thy slain foe, thou first shouldst purify.
_Hercules:_ Would that his hateful blood I might pour out 920 Unto the gods; for no libation poured Could stain the altars more acceptably. No ampler, richer victim could be paid To mighty Jove, than this unrighteous king.
_Amphitr.:_ Beseech thy father that he end thy tasks; Pray that at last he give surcease of toil, 925 And to the wearied rest.
_Hercules:_ I shall myself Frame prayers more worthy Jupiter and me: May heaven, earth, and air their order keep, And the everlasting stars wheel on their way, Unchanged; may peace profound brood o'er the world; May iron be used for harmless toil alone, 930 And deadly weapons vanish from the earth; May no unbridled tempest lash the sea; May angry Jove send forth no lightning bolts; And may no river, fed by winter's snows, O'erflow the troubled fields; may venom fail; And may no noxious herb its fruitage bear; 935 May fierce and cruel tyrants rule no more. If the pregnant earth still foster any crime, Let her make haste to bring it to the light; And if she still another monster bear, Let it be mine to meet. [_The madness planned by_ Juno _begins to come upon him_.] But what is this? The day's bright noon is by dark shadows dimmed, 940 And, though the sky be cloudless, Phoebus fares With face obscured. Who puts the day to flight, And drives it back to seek the dawn again? Whence rears unheard-of night its gloomy head? Why do so many stars the heavens fill In daylight hours? See where the Lion fierce, My earliest labor, glitters in the sky, 945 Inflamed with wrath, and threatens with his fangs. Now, surely, will he some bright star devour. With gaping jaws and menacing he stands; He breathes out fire, and on his flaming neck His mane he tosses. Soon will he o'erleap With one huge bound the fruitful autumn's stars, And those which frozen winter brings to view, 950 And slay with savage lunge the vernal Bull.
_Amphitr.:_ What sudden ill is this? Why dost thou turn Now here now there thy burning eyes? And why Dost thou so falsely see the heavens?
_Hercules:_ Now is the whole round earth at last subdued; 955 The swollen seas give place, and e'en the realms Infernal have our toils heroic known. The heavens alone remain untried, a task Well worth the struggles of a Hercules. Now shall I soar aloft to those far heights, And seek the heavenly spaces; for a star Has Jupiter, my father, promised me. What if he should refuse? Nay, but the earth 960 No longer can Alcides hold, and now Returns him to the heavens whence he came. Behold, the whole assembly of the gods Invite me to their midst, and open wide The doors of heaven--with one dissenting voice. [_To_ Juno, _in apostrophe_.] And wilt thou not receive me into heaven? Wilt not unbar the gates? Wouldst have me rend The portals of the stubborn sky away? And dost doubt thou my power? Nay, Saturn's chains 965 Will I unbind, and loose my grandsire's might Against his impious son's unbridled sway. I'll stir the Titans up to war again, And lead them on; great rocks and trees I'll bring, And with my strong right hand I'll snatch and hurl The ridges where the Centaurs have their home. 970 Two mountains, one on other, will I pile And so construct a highway to the skies. Then shall old Chiron see Mount Ossa placed Upon his Pelion; and if to heaven Olympus reach not, third in order set, I'll hurl it there.
_Amphitryon:_ Such thought be far from thee! Check this mad impulse of a heart insane, 975 Though great.
_Hercules:_ But what is this? With dire intent The giants are in arms. Great Tityus Has fled the shades, and, towering aloft With torn and empty breast, has almost gained The heavens. Cithaeron totters to his base, Pallene trembles, Tempe faints in fear. 980 One has Mount Pindus snatched away, and one Mount Oeta. Mimas rages horribly. Now comes Erinnys with her flaming torch, And shakes her hissing scourge; my face she seeks Nearer and nearer with ill-omened brands On funeral pyres enkindled. There I see Tisiphone with snake-encircled head; 985 With brandished torch she guards the gate of hell, Now that their watch-dog has been stolen away. [_He catches sight of his children._] But see where lurk the children of the king, The impious spawn of Lycus whom I hate. To your detested sire I'll send you now. Let darting arrows from my bowstring fly; 990 Such errands fit my noble weapons well.
[_He aims an arrow at one of the children._]
_Amphitr.:_ What will he do in his blind passion's rage? Now he has bent his mighty bow, and now His quiver loosed. The hissing dart is sped. Straight through the neck it flies, and leaves the wound.
_Hercules:_ The rest will I hunt out, yea, all that lurk 995 Within this city's walls, without delay. A greater war against Mycenae waits, That by my hands those Cyclopean walls May be o'erthrown; and that the royal hall, Its high walls shattered, noble roof in-fall'n, Doors burst, may be to utter ruin brought, 1000 And all its royal secrets be revealed. [_He sees his second son hiding._] Ah, here I see another hiding son Of that most wicked sire.
[_He seizes the child and drags him from the scene._]
_Amphitryon_ [_standing where he can see what is being done behind the scenes_]: Behold the child, His coaxing hands stretched out to clasp the knees Of his mad father, begs with piteous tones. Oh, crime unspeakable, pathetic, grim: For by his pleading hand the child is caught, 1005 And, madly whirled again and yet again, Sent headlong through the air. A sickening sound-- And with his scattered brains the roof is wet. But wretched Megara, her little son Protecting in her arms, flees madly forth.
_Hercules_ [_behind the scenes, to_ Megara _also behind the scenes_]: Though thou shouldst hide thee in the Thunderer's arms, 1010 This hand of mine will seek and snatch thee forth.
_Amphitryon_ [_standing throughout this scene as above_]: Oh, whither, wretched woman dost thou flee? What flight, what hiding-places dost thou seek? No place is safe from angry Hercules. Embrace his knees the rather, and with prayer Attempt to soothe his wrath. 1015
_The voice of Megara:_ O husband, spare; Thy Megara behold and recognize; This son of thine thy face and manner bears. See how he stretches out his hands to thee.
_The voice of Hercules:_ At last I have thee, stepdame, in my power. Come thou with me, and pay full penalty For all my wrongs; free thy poor, troubled lord From his base yoke. But ere the mother dies, 1020 This little monster must be put to death.
_The voice of Megara:_ What wouldst thou, madman? Shed thine infant's blood?
_Amphitr.:_ The child, in terror of his father's face, Died ere he felt the blow. 'Twas fear that snatched His spirit forth. Now 'gainst his trembling wife, His mighty club is raised--her bones are crushed, Her head is stricken from the mangled trunk 1025 And may no more be seen. [_To himself._] O stubborn age, Too long enduring, canst thou bide this sight? But if thy grief is irksome, death is near. [_To_ Hercules.] Impale me on thy darts; that club of thine, With blood of monsters smeared, raise to my death. Come, slay me who am falsely called thy sire, 1030 And so remove this blot upon thy name, That I no longer may thy fame obscure.
_Theseus:_ Why shouldst thou wantonly provoke thy death, Old man? Why this mad haste to die? Away, And hide. From this one crime spare Hercules.
[_Enter_ Hercules.]
_Hercules:_ 'Tis well; the household of the shameless king 1035 Is utterly destroyed. To thee, O wife Of mighty Jove, this promised sacrifice Have I performed; my vows I've gladly paid; And other victims shall thine Argos give.
_Amphitr.:_ Thou hast not yet enough atonement made, O son. Complete the sacrifice. Behold, 1040 A victim at the altar stands, and waits, With willing neck, thy hand. I offer here My life, and eagerly; I seek to die. Slay me. [Hercules _appears to be fainting_.] But what is this? His eye's keen glance Cannot maintain its gaze; grief dims his sight; And do I see the hands of Hercules A-tremble? Now his eyelids fall in sleep, His head sinks down upon his weary breast, 1045 His knees give way, and down upon the earth His whole great body falls; as when some ash Is felled in forest glades, or when some cliff Falls down and makes a harbor in the sea. [_To_ Hercules.] Dost thou yet live? Or has thy furious rage, Which sent thy friends to death, slain thee as well? [_He examines the prostrate body._] He slumbers; this his measured breathing proves. 1050 Let him have time for rest, that heavy sleep May break his madness' force, and so relieve His troubled heart. [_To attendants._] Ye slaves, his arms remove, Lest, waking, he again his madness prove.
* * * * *
_Chorus:_ Let heaven and heaven's creator mourn, The fertile earth, the wandering wave 1055 Upon the restless sea. And thou, Who over lands and ocean's plains Dost shed thy light, whose beauteous face Drives night away, O glowing Sun, Grieve more than all. For equally 1060 Thy risings had Alcides seen, And eke thy settings; both thy homes Were known to him. His spirit loose From monstrous madness; loose him, ye Who rule above. His mind restore To sanity again. And thou, 1065 O Sleep, subduer of our ills, The spirit's rest, thou better part Of human life, swift-wingéd one, Astraea's child, of cruel Death The sluggish brother, mixing false 1070 With true, prescient of future things, But oftenest of misery; O sire of all things, gate of life, Day's respite and the comrade true Of night, who com'st impartially To king and slaves, with gentle hand The wearied spirit comforting; 1075 Thou who dost force the race of men Who quail at mortal doom, to gain A foretaste of the sleep of death: Subdue and overwhelm him quite With heavy stupor; let his limbs, Unconquered hitherto, be held Fast bound in chains of deepest sleep; Take not the spell from his fierce heart, 1080 Until his former mind return To its accustomed course. But see, prone on the ground he lies, His savage dreams in his fierce heart Still hold their sway. Not yet, alas, Is his dire madness overcome. Accustomed to recline his head 1085 Upon his heavy club, see now, He feels about with empty hand To find the ponderous trunk, his arms With fruitless motion tossed. Not yet Has all the fever from his veins Been driven out, but rages on; As waves, by mighty tempests vexed, 1090 Toss wildly on and swell with rage, Although the winds have ceased to blow. Oh, calm this tempest in his soul; Let piety and manly strength Return; or, rather, let his mind 1095 Be still by mad impulses stirred, And his blind error go the way It has begun. For madness now Alone can make him innocent. To have the hands unstained by guilt Is best, but next to this is sin Done in unconsciousness. Now let thy breast resound with blows, 1100 And let those arms which once have borne The heavens up be smitten now By thy victorious hands; thy cries Be heard throughout the realms of air, By her who rules the world of night, 1105 And Cerberus crouching in his cave, His neck still burdened with thy chains. Let Chaos with the dolorous sound Re-echo, and the widespread waves Of ocean, and the air above 1110 Which had thy darts in better use Beheld. Thy breast, with ills beset So mighty, must with no light blow Be smitten. With one great sound of grief Let heaven, sea, and hell be filled. And thou, brave shaft, above his neck 1115 So long suspended, armament And weapon too, thou quiver huge, Smite heavily his savage back. Thou sturdy club of oak, come beat His mighty shoulders, and oppress 1120 His breast with thy hard-knotted stock. Let all his weapons worthily Of so great grief lament with him. [_To the dead children._] But you, who in your father's praise Can never share, who ne'er from kings Have taken deadly recompense, Who never in the Argive games Have learned to bend your youthful limbs, In wrestling and in boxing strong 1125 To strive; who have but dared as yet To poise the slender Scythian dart With steady hand, and pierce the stag Who safety seeks in flight, but not The lion fierce with tawny mane: 1130 Go to your Stygian refuge, go, Ye guiltless shades, who on life's verge Have by your father's mad assault Been overwhelmed. Poor children, born Of an ill-omened, luckless race, 1135 Fare on along your father's toilsome path, To where the gloomy monarchs sit in wrath!