ACT III

_Ghost of Agrippina_ [_bearing a flaming torch_]: Through cloven earth from Tartarus I come, To bring in bloody hands this torch of hell To light these curséd rites; with such dire flames 595 Let this Poppaea wed my son, which soon His mother's grief and vengeful hand shall turn To funeral fires. And ever 'mid the shades My impious murder in my memory dwells, A heavy weight upon my grieving soul Still unavenged; for, Oh, ingratitude He gave me in return for all my gifts, 600 E'en for the gift of empire did he give A murderous ship designed to work my death. I would have wept my comrades' plight, and more, My son's most cruel deed: no time for tears Was given, but even higher did he heap 605 His sum of crime. Though I escaped the sea, I felt the keen sword's thrust, and, with my blood The very gods defiling, poured my soul In anguish forth. But even yet his hate Was not appeased. Against my very name The tyrant raged; my merits he obscured; 610 My statues, my inscriptions, honors--all, On pain of death he bade to be destroyed Throughout the world--that world my hapless love, To my own direful punishment, had given To be by him, an untried boy, controlled. And now my murdered husband's angry ghost Shakes vengeful torches in my guilty face, 615 Insistent, threat'ning; blames his death on me, His murdered son, and loud demands that now The guilty cause be given up. Have done: He shall be given, and that right speedily. Avenging furies for his impious head Are planning even now a worthy fate: 620 Base flight and blows, and fearful sufferings, By which the raging thirst of Tantalus He shall surpass; the cruel, endless toil Of Sisyphus; the pain that Tityus feels, And the dread, racking anguish of the wheel On which Ixion's whirling limbs are stretched. Let gold and marble deck his palace walls; Let arméd guards protect him; let the world 625 Be beggared that its treasures vast may flow Into his lap; let suppliant Parthians bend To kiss his hands, and bring rich offerings: The day and hour will come when for his crimes His guilty soul shall full atonement make, 630 When to his enemies he shall be given, Deserted and destroyed and stripped of all. Oh, to what end my labors and my prayers? Why did thy frenzied madness, O my son, And fate impel thee to such depths of crime That e'en thy mother's wrath, whom thou didst slay, 635 Is all too small to match her sufferings? Oh, would that, ere I brought thee forth to light, And suckled thee, my vitals had been rent By savage beasts! Then senseless, innocent, And mine wouldst thou have perished; joined to me Wouldst thou forever see the quiet seats 640 Of this abode of souls, thy mighty sire, And grandsires too, those men of glorious name, Whom now perpetual shame and grief await Because of thee, thou monster, and of me. But why delay in hell to hide my face, Since I have proved a curse to all my race? 645

[_Vanishes._]

_Octavia_ [_to the_ Chorus _in deprecation of their grief because of her divorce_]: Restrain your tears; put on a face of joy, As on a festal day, lest this your love And care for me should stir the royal wrath, And I be cause of suffering to you. 650 This wound is not the first my heart has felt; Far worse have I endured; but all shall end, Perchance in death, before this day is done. No more upon my brutal husband's face Shall I be forced to look; that hateful couch, 655 Long since consigned to slavish uses, base, I shall behold no more. For now Augustus' sister shall I be, And not his wife. But Oh, be far from me All cruel punishments and fear of death. 660 Poor, foolish girl! and canst thou hope for this? Bethink thee of his former sins--and hope. Nay, he has spared thy wretched life till now, That thou mayst at his marriage altars fall. But why so often turn thy streaming eyes 665 Upon thy home? Now speed thy steps away, And leave this bloody prince's hall for aye.

_Chorus:_ Now dawns at last the day we long have feared And talked of. Lo, our Claudia, driven forth 670 By cruel Nero's threats, leaves that abode Which even now Poppaea calls her own; While we must sit and grieve with sluggish woe, By heavy fear oppressed. 675 Where is that Roman people's manhood now, Which once the pride of mighty leaders crushed, Gave righteous laws to an unconquered land, Gave powers at will to worthy citizens, Made peace and war, fierce nations overcame, 680 And held in dungeons dark their captive kings? Behold, on every side our eyes are grieved By this Poppaea's gleaming statues joined With Nero's images--a shameful sight. 685 Come, overturn them with indignant hands, Too like in feature to her living face. And her we'll drag from off that royal couch; And then, with flaming brand and deadly sword, Attack the princely palace of her lord.