ACT I

[_On the Cenaean promontory of the island of Euboea._]

_Hercules_ [_about to sacrifice to Cenaean Jove_]: O sire of gods, from whose almighty hand Both homes of Phoebus feel thy darting bolt: Rule now serene, for I have 'stablished peace Wherever Nereus checks the spreading lands. Now let thy thunders rest; for treacherous kings 5 And savage tyrants are in ruin laid. Whatever merited thy blasting darts Have I o'erthrown and crushed. But, father, why Is heaven still denied to me, thy son? For surely have I ever shown myself A worthy child of Jove; and Juno's self, My hard task-mistress, testifies to this, That I am born of thee. Why dost thou still 10 Contrive delays? Am I thy cause of fear? Will Atlas not avail to prop the skies If to their bulk the weight of Hercules Be superadded? Why, O father, why Dost thou deny the stars to me? To thee Did death restore me; every monstrous shape Which had its source in earth or sea or air, Or hell itself, has yielded to my arms. 15 No lion treads the Arcadian cities now; Stymphalus fears no more its noxious birds; The wondrous stag of Maenalus is dead; The watchful dragon spattered with its blood The golden grove; the hydra's force is gone; Those famous horses to the Hebrus known, Which fattened on the blood of murdered guests, 20 Have I destroyed, and spoils of war obtained In victory o'er my Amazonian foe. I saw the silent realms; nor all alone Did I return, but shuddering day beheld Dark Cerberus, and he beheld the sun. No more Antaeus, Libya's monarch huge, His strength renews; before his bloody shrines 25 Busiris lies o'erthrown; by my sole hand The threefold Geryon was o'ercome and slain, And that dread terror of a hundred tribes, The Cretan bull, yea all the monstrous things To which the hostile world has given birth, Have fallen in utter ruin by my hand. If now the earth can show no monsters more, 30 If now my stepdame has her wrath fulfilled, Restore the father to his son; yea, more-- Admit the hero to his proper skies. I ask not that thou point the way to me; Permit it only, father, and the way I'll find. Or, if thou fearest that the earth Shall to the light new shapes of terror bring, Let them make haste to come, whate'er they be, 35 While still the earth beholds her Hercules. For who will e'er again these fearsome things Attack, or who, throughout the towns of Greece, Will e'er be worthy of great Juno's hate? In truth, my praises have I safe bestowed, Since now there is no land but sings of me. The Scythian, dwelling in the frozen North, 40 The Indian, smitten by the burning rays Of Phoebus, and the tropic African: All know my fame. O glowing Sun, I thee As witness call: I have encountered thee Where'er thou shin'st; nor have thy darting beams Availed to follow my triumphant course. I've gone beyond the reaches of the sun, And daylight halted far within my bounds. 45 The world of nature yielded; for my steps No earth remained. She was exhausted first. But night and utter chaos met me there. From that dark realm whence no one e'er returns, Have I come back to earth. Old Ocean's threats Have I endured; no raging storm of his 50 Has e'er prevailed to overcome the bark In which I fared. How small a part I tell![25] Exhausted is the air and can no more Suffice to feed the hatred of thy wife; The earth in fear brings forth no monster more For me to conquer, no wild beasts of prey. These are denied to me, and in the stead 55 Of monster have I come myself to be. How many evils have I overcome, Though all unarmed! Whatever monstrous thing Opposed, these empty hands have overthrown; Nor did there ever live a savage beast Which I as boy or infant feared to meet. My bidden labors have seemed always light, And no day ever dawned that brought to me 60 No strenuous toil. How many monstrous tasks Have I fulfilled which no king set to me! A harder master has my courage been Than ever Juno was. But what avails That I have saved the human race from fear? The gods in consequence have lost their peace. The freed earth sees whatever she has feared 65 Now set in heaven; for Juno thitherward Hath borne the beasts I slew. Restored to life, The Crab fares safely in his torrid path, A constellation now in southern skies, And ripens Libya's waving fields of grain. The Lion to the heavenly Virgin gives The flying year; but he, with beaming mane 70 Upon his wild neck tossing, dries the winds Which drip with moisture, and the clouds devours. Behold, the beasts have all invaded heaven, Forestalling me. Though victor, here I stand Upon the earth, and view my labors there. For Juno to the monsters and the beasts Has given stars, that so the heavenly realm 75 Might be for me a place of terror made. But no! Though in her wrath she fill the skies With monsters, though she make the heavens worse Than earth and hell, yet shall a place be given To Hercules. If, after beasts and wars, If, after I subdued the Stygian dog, I have not earned a place among the stars, 80 Then shall Sicilian Pelorus touch Hesperia's shores, and both shall be one land. I'll put the intervening sea to flight; Or, if thou wilt that severed seas be joined, Then Isthmus shall give passage to the waves, And Attic vessels by a new-found way Shall sail united seas. I'll change the world. 85 Along new channels shall the Hister flow, And Tanaïs find new passage to the sea. Grant, grant, O Jupiter, this boon to me, That I at least may shield the gods from harm. There mayst thou lay aside thy thunderbolts, Where I stand guard against thy enemies. Whether thou bid'st me guard the icy pole, Or o'er the torrid regions watch, be sure 90 That on that side the gods may be at rest. Apollo earned the shrine of Pythia And heaven, because he slew the Python huge; But Oh, how many Pythons did I slay In that dire hydra! Bacchus, Perseus, too, Have found a place among the heavenly gods. 95 How small that eastern portion of the earth Which he subdued! How meager is the spoil Which Perseus in the stony Gorgon gained! What son of thine from Juno born has earned A place in heaven because of his renown? I seek the skies which I myself have borne. [_Turning to_ Lichas.] But thou, O Lichas, comrade of my toils, Go tell my triumphs over Eurytus, 100 His lares conquered and his realm o'erthrown. [_To his attendants._] Do you with speed the victims hurry on To where the temple of Cenaean Jove Looks off upon the wild Euboean sea.

_Band of captive Oechalian maidens:_ The mate of the immortals he, Whose life and fortune hand in hand Go on apace. But worse than death 105 Is life, dragged on with many groans. Whoe'er has trodden under foot The greedy fates, and can disdain The boat that plies on death's dark stream, Will never feel the galling chains Upon his captive arms; nor grace, As noble spoil, the victor's train. 110 For he who faces death with joy Can ne'er be wretched. Should his bark Be wrecked upon the stormy sea Where Africus with Boreas, And Zephyrus with Eurus strive, And rend the seas; he does not seek To gather up the broken parts 115 Of his wrecked ship, that, far at sea, He still may cherish hopes of land. For he, who ever ready stands To give his life, alone is safe From all the perils of the storm. But we are held by shameful grief, The gaunt, drawn face, the streaming tears, By the ashes of our fatherland Besprinkled. Us no whirling flame, 120 Nor crash of falling walls o'erwhelms. Thou dost pursue the fortunate, O death, but fleest from wretched souls. Behold, we live: but Oh, no more, Our country's walls[26] remain; their place Shall soon be hidden by the woods, And all our temples fall away To squalid hovels. Even now 125 The cold Dolopian will come And o'er the ashes, glowing yet, Sad remnants of Oechalia, Will drive his flocks. And soon, alas, Within our walls, the shepherd rude Shall sing upon his rustic pipes, With doleful voice, our history. 130 And when the hand of God shall speed A few more generations on, The very place where once we dwelt Will be forgotten. Happy once, I kept no barren hearth at home; Not mine the hungry acres then Of Thessaly. But now I'm called To Trachin's rough and stony land, 135 To ridges parched and jungle-set, To groves which e'en the mountain goat Would not inhabit. But, perchance, Some milder fate the captives calls. Then will they see the Inachus, Whose rapid waves shall bear them on, Or dwell within Dircaean walls 140 Where flows Ismenus' scanty stream-- And where was once the mother wed Of mighty Hercules. False is that tale of doubled night, When overlong the stars delayed Within the skies, and Hesperus In place of Lucifer arose, And Delia with tardy car 145 Kept back the sun. What Scythian crag Begot thee, or what stony mount? Like some wild Titan wast thou born On Rhodope, or Athos rough? What savage beast on Caspian shores, What spotted tigress, suckled thee? 150 Impervious to wounds is he. Sharp spears are blunted, steel is bent Against his heart; and glittering swords, Upon his naked members struck, In broken fragment drop apart; Stones strike, but harmlessly rebound. And so he scorns the deadly fates, 155 And, all invincible, provokes His death. No spears can pierce his heart, No arrow shot from Scythian bow, No darts which cold Sarmatians bear, Or they who dwell beneath the dawn, The Parthians, whose fatal shafts More deadly than the Cretan dart, 160 The neighboring Nabathaeans wound. Oechalia's walls he overthrew With his bare hands. Naught can withstand His onslaught. For whate'er he plans To overcome, is by that fact Already overcome. How few The foes who by his wounds have fallen! His angry countenance means death; 165 And to have met his threatening gaze Is worse than death. What Gyas huge, What vast Briareus, who stood Upon Thessalia's mountain heap And clutched at heaven with snaky hands, Would not have frozen at the glance Of that dread face? But mighty ills 170 Have mighty recompense: no more Is left to suffer--we have seen, Oh, woe! the angry Hercules!

_Iole:_ But I, unhappy one, must mourn, Not temples with their gods o'erthrown, Not scattered hearths and burning homes, Where lie in common ruin mixed Fathers with sons, and gods with men, 175 Temples and towns--the common woe; But fortune calls my tears away To other grief. Fate bids me weep O'er other ruins. What lament 180 Shall I make first? What greatest ill Shall I bewail? All equally I'll weep. Ah me, that mother earth Hath not more bosoms given me, That worthily they might resound Unto my grief. But, O ye gods, Transform me to a weeping rock On Sipylus; or set me where, 185 Between its grassy banks, the Po Glides on, where grieving woods respond To the mourning of the sisters sad Of Phaëthon; or to the shores Of Sicily transport me. There, Another Siren, let me mourn 190 The woeful fate of Thessaly. Or bear me to the Thracian woods, Where, underneath Ismarian shade, The Daulian bird bewails her son. Give me a form to fit my tears, And let rough Trachin echo back 195 My cries of woe. The Cyprian maid Still soothes her grieving heart with tears; Still Ceyx's royal spouse bemoans Her vanished lord; and Niobe, Surviving life and grief, weeps on; Her human form has Philomel Escaped, and now with doleful notes The Attic maid bewails her dead. 200 Oh, that my arms were feathered wings! Oh, then, how happy would I be, When, hidden in the forest depths, I might lament in plaintive strain, 205 And live in fame as Iole, The maiden bird. I saw, alas, I saw my father's dreadful fate, When, smitten with that deadly club, He fell, in mangled fragments dashed 210 Throughout the palace hall. If then His fate had granted burial, How often had I searched, O sire, For all thy parts! How could I look upon thy death, O Toxeus, with thy tender cheeks Unbearded yet, thy boyish veins Not yet with manhood's vigor filled? But why do I bewail your fates, 215 O parents, whom to safety now Kind death has borne? My fortune bids That I bewail myself instead. Soon, ah too soon, in captive state, Shall I the flying spindle turn For some proud mistress in her hall. O cruel beauty, how hast thou 220 Decreed my death! For thee alone Am I and all my house undone, Since when my sire to Hercules Refused my hand, because he feared Great Hercules as son-in-law. And now, not wife, but captive maid, I seek my haughty mistress' home.

_Chorus:_ Why dost thou, foolish, ever dwell 225 Upon thy sire's illustrious realm, And on thy own unhappy fate? Forget thy former station now; For only is he happy who, As king or slave, knows how to bear His lot, and fit his countenance To changing circumstance. For he 230 Who bears his ills with steadfast soul Has from misfortune reft away Its strength and heaviness.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Reading, _quam prosequor_.

[26] Reading, _patriae moenibus_.