And how do they bear him? They come,
As mourning a friend, with hushed tread;
Silently so is he borne.
Ah, must we deem him as dead,
Or has he fallen asleep?970
Enter Hyllos, Elder, and Others, bearing Heracles on a couch.
Hyllos. Ah me ! ah me, Ο my father!
Ah me, for thee in my woe!
What must I suffer, ah me!
What shall I counsel or plan?
Elder. Hush, my son! lest thou stir
Thy sore-vexed father's woe;
Still lives he, though he lies
Thus prostrate on his couch:
Hush! bite thy lips; be still.
Hyllos. How say'st thou? Doth he live?
Elder. Wake him not, plunged in sleep;
Move him not, lest thou rouse,
Ο boy, the dreaded scourge980
That drives him in frenzy of soul.
Hyllos. Yea; but on me, in my woe,
Presses a boundless grief;
Wildly my spirit swells.
Hera. [Waking.] Zeus! In what land am I?
On whose coasts lie, laid low
In anguish nought can soothe?
Ah! once more the dire pest
Gnaws the heart's inmost core.
Elder. [To Hyllos.] Did'st thou not know what gain
Lies in restraining speech,
Not driving sleep 'from his eyes?990
