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.

_Hercules:_ If on the heights of Caucasus I lay In chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed, While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me, No sound of woe should issue from my lips; Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades 1380 Together clash and threaten me with death, I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony. Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too, Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas, And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurled The bolts of Jove--if e'en the sky itself 1385 Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' car In blazing torture on my shoulders lie: No coward cry of pain would ever show The mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more: Although a thousand monstrous beasts at once Should rush upon and rend me limb from limb; Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild, 1390 And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull, And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard; Nay, though the very soil of earth should rise And shriek[39] its rage at me from every side; Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air: Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms, No weapon wielded by the hand of man, Could force from me a single word of pain. 1395

_Alcmena:_ No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son; But thy long years of work, thy constant toils, Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred.

_Hercules:_ Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be? Does any evil still upon the earth Exist, with me alive? But let it come. Let someone quickly bring my bow to me-- 1400 But no: my naked hands will be enough. Now bid the monster come.

_Alcmena:_ Alas, his pains, Too great, have reft his senses quite away. Remove his weapons, take those deadly shafts Out of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks 1405 Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I, A helpless, agéd woman hide myself? That grief of his has changed to maddened rage, And that alone is master of him now. Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am, Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave hand Alcmena has deserved to meet her death. So let me perish even impiously, 1410 Before some craven soul command my death, Or some base creature triumph over me. But see, outworn by woe, his weary heart Is in the soothing bonds of slumber bound; His panting chest with labored breathing heaves. Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me 1415 Have willed to take my glorious son, at least Spare to the world, I pray, its champion. Let all his pains depart, and once again Let great Alcides' frame renew its strength.

[_Enter_ Hyllus.]

_Hyllus:_ O bitter light, O day with evil filled! Dead is the Thunderer's daughter, and his son 1420 Lies dying. I alone of all survive. By my own mother's crime my father dies, But she by guile was snared. What agéd man, Throughout the round of years, in all his life, Will e'er be able to recount such woes? One day has snatched away my parents both. 1425 But though I say naught of my other ills, And cease to blame the fates, still must I say: My sire, the mighty Hercules, is gone.

_Alcmena:_ Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire, And matched with sad Alcmena in her grief; Perchance long slumber will assuage his pain. But see, repose deserts his weary heart, 1430 And gives him back to suffering, me to grief.

_Hercules_ [_awakening in delirium_]: Why, what is this? Do I with waking eyes See little Trachin on her craggy seat, Or, set amongst the stars, have I at length Escaped the race of men? Who opes for me The gate of heaven? Thee, father, now I see, 1435 Thee, and my stepdame too at last appeased. What heavenly sound is this that fills my ears? Great Juno calls me son! Now I behold The gleaming palace of the heavenly world, And Phoebus' path worn by his burning wheels. [_Beginning to come out of his delirium._] I see night's couch; her shadows call me hence. 1440 But what is this? who shuts me out of heaven, And from the stars, O father, leads me down? I felt the glow of Phoebus on my face, So near to heaven was I; but now, alas, 'Tis Trachin that I see. Oh, who to earth Has given me back again? A moment since, 1445 And Oeta's lofty peak stood far below, And all the world was lying at my feet. How sweet the respite that I had from thee, O grief. Thou mak'st me to confess--but stay, Let not such shameful words escape thy lips. [_To_ Hyllus.] This woe, my son, is of thy mother's gift. Oh, that I might crush out her guilty life With my great club, as once the Amazons 1450 I smote upon the snowy Caucasus. O well-loved Megara, to think that thou Wast wife of mine when in that fit I fell Of maddened rage! Give me my club and bow; Let my hand be disgraced, and with a blot Let me destroy the luster of my praise-- My latest conquest on a woman gained! 1455

_Hyllus:_ Now curb the dreadful threatenings of thy wrath; She has her wound--'tis over--and has paid The penalty which thou wouldst have her pay: For now, self-slain, my mother lies in death.

_Hercules:_ O grief, still with me! She deserved to die Beneath the hands of angry Hercules. 1460 O Lichas, thou hast lost thy mate in death. So hot my wrath, against her helpless corpse I still would rage. Why does her body lie Secure from my assaults? Go cast it out To be a banquet for the birds of prey.

_Hyllus:_ She suffered more than even thou wouldst wish. Self-slain, and grieving sore for thee, she died. 1465 But 'tis not by a cruel wife's deceit, Nor by my mother's guile, thou liest low. By Nessus was this deadly plot conceived, Who, smitten by thine arrow, lost his life. 'Twas in the centaur's gore the robe was dipped, 1470 And by thy pains he doth requite his own.

_Hercules:_ Then truly are his pains well recompensed, And my own doubtful oracles explained. This fate the talking oak foretold to me, And Delphi's oracle, whose sacred voice Shook Cirrha's temples and Parnassus' slopes: 1475 "By hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day, Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low. This end, when thou hast traversed sea and land, And the realm of spirits, is reserved for thee." Now will we grieve no more; such end is meet; Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules 1480 Survive to tell the tale. Now shall my death Be glorious, illustrious, renowned, And worthy of myself. This final day Will I make famous in the ears of men. Go, cut down all the woods, and Oeta's groves Bring hither, that a mighty funeral pyre May hold great Hercules before he dies. And thee, dear son of Poeas, thee I ask 1485 To do this last, sad office for thy friend, And all the sky illumine with the flames Of Hercules. And now to thee this prayer, This last request, Hyllus, my son, I make: Among my captives is a beauteous maid, Of noble breeding and of royal birth. 'Tis Iole, the child of Eurytus. 1490 Her would I have thee to thy chamber lead With fitting marriage rites; for, stained with blood, Victorious, I robbed her of her home And fatherland; and in return, poor girl, Naught save Alcides have I given her; And he is gone. Then let her soothe her woes In the embrace of him who boasts the blood 1495 Of Jove and Hercules. Whatever seed She has conceived of me let her to thee Bring forth. [_To_ Alcmena.] And do thou cease thy plaints, I pray, For me, great mother; thy Alcides lives; And by my might have I my stepdame made To seem but as the concubine of Jove. 1500 Whether the story of the night prolonged At Hercules' begetting be the truth, Or whether I was got of mortal sire-- Though I be falsely called the son of Jove, I have indeed deserved to be his son; For I have honored him, and to his praise 1505 My mother brought me forth. Nay, Jove himself Is proud that he is held to be my sire. Then cease thy tears, O mother; thou shalt be Of high degree among Argolic dames. For no such son as thine has Juno borne, Though she may wield the scepter of the skies, 1510 The Thunderer's bride. And yet, though holding heaven, She grudged Alcides to a mortal birth, And wished that she might call him son of hers. Now, Titan, must thou go thy way alone; For I, who have thy constant comrade been, Am bound for Tartara, the world of shades. Yet down to hell I bear this noble praise: 1515 That openly no monster conquered me, But that I conquered all--and openly.

* * * * *

_Chorus:_ Bright sun, thou glory of the world, At whose first rays wan Hecate Unyokes the weary steeds of night, 1520 To east and west the message tell; To those who suffer 'neath the Bear, And who, beneath thy burning car Are tortured: Hercules prepares To speed him to the world of shades, 1525 The realm of sleepless Cerberus, Whence he will[40] ne'er again return. Let thy bright rays be overcast With clouds; gaze on the mourning world With pallid face; and let thy head In thick and murky mists be veiled. 1530 When, Titan, where, beneath what sky, Shalt thou behold upon the earth Another such as Hercules? Whom shall the wretched land invoke, If any hundred-headed pest, In Lerna born, spring up anew 1535 And spread destruction; if again Some boar in ancient Arcady Infest the woods; or if again Some son of Thracian Rhodope, With heart more hard than the frozen lands That lie 'neath snowy Helice, Should stain his stalls with human gore? 1540 Who will give peace to the trembling folk If angry gods with monstrous birth Should curse the world again? Behold, The mate for common man he lies, Whom earth produced a mate for Jove. Let lamentations loud resound 1545 Through all the world; with streaming hair Let women smite their naked arms; Let all the temples of the gods Be closed save Juno's; she alone Is free from care. To Lethe and the Stygian shore 1550 Now art thou going, whence no keel Will ever bring thee back. Thou goest, Lamented one, unto the shades, Whence, death o'ercome, thou once return'dst In triumph with thy prize; but now, An empty shade, with fleshless arms, Wan face, and slender, drooping neck, 1555 Thou goest back. Nor will the skiff (Which once bore only thee and feared That even so 'twould be o'erturned) Bear thee alone across the stream. But not with common shades shalt thou Be herded. Thou with Aeacus[41] And pious kings of Crete shalt sit In judgment on the deeds of men, And punish tyrants. O ye kings, 1560 Be merciful, restrain your hands. 'Tis worthy praise to keep the sword Unstained with blood; while thou didst reign, Upon thy realm to have allowed Least privilege to bloody[42] fate. But place among the stars is given To manly virtue. Shalt thou hold 1565 Thy seat within the northern skies, Or where his fiercest rays the sun Sends forth? Or in the balmy west Wilt shine, where thou mayst hear the waves On Calpe's shore resound? What place In heaven serene shalt thou obtain? 1570 When great Alcides is received Among the stars, who will be free From fear? May Jove assign thy place Far from the raging Lion's seat, And burning Crab, lest at sight of thee The frightened stars confuse their laws And Titan quake with fear. 1575 So long as blooming flowers shall come With wakening spring; while winter's frosts Strip bare the trees, and summer suns Reclothe them with their wonted green; While in the autumn ripened fruits Fall to the ground: no lapse of time 1580 Shall e'er destroy thy memory Upon the earth. For thou shalt live As comrade of the sun and stars. Sooner shall wheat grow in the sea, Or stormy straits with gentle waves Beat on the shore; sooner descend The Bear from out his frozen sky And bathe him in forbidden waves: 1585 Than shall the thankful people cease To sing thy praise. And now to thee, O father of the world, we pray: Let no dread beast be born on earth, No monstrous pest; keep this poor world From abject fear of heartless kings; Let no one hold the reins of power 1590 Who deems his kingdom's glory lies In the terror of his naked sword. But if again some thing of dread Appear upon the earth, Oh, give, We pray, another champion. But what is this? The heavens resound. 1595 Behold Alcides' father mourns, He mourns his son. Or is't the sound Of grieving gods, or the cry of fear Of the timid stepdame? Can it be That at the sight of Hercules Great Juno flees the stars? Perchance Beneath the added weight of heaven Tall Atlas reels. Or do the shades 1600 Cry out in fear of Hercules, While Cerberus with broken chains In panic flees the sight? Not so: Behold, 'tis Poeas' son, who comes With looks of gladness. See, he bears The well-known quiver and the shafts 1605 Of Hercules.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] Reading, _auctor_.

[39] Reading, _fremens_.

[40] Reading, _remeabit_.

[41] Reading, _Aeacon_.

[42] Reading, _minimum cruentis_.