Which to Death in hideous lair
The many-wreathed Hydra bare,
How shall he another day
Feel the glad warmth of Helios’ ray?—
Enfolded by the Monster-Thing
Of Lerna, while the cruel sting
Of the shagg’d Centaur’s murderous-guileful tongue
Breaks forth withal to do him painful wrong.
And she, poor innocent, who saw II 1
Checkless advancing to the gate
A mighty harm unto her state,—
This rash young bridal without fear of law,—
Gave not her will to aught that caused this woe,
But since it came through that strange mind’s conceiving,—
That ruined her in meeting,—deeply grieving,
She mourns with dewy tears in tenderest flow.
The approaching hour appeareth great with woe:
Some guile-born misery doth Fate foreshow.
The springs of sorrow are unbound, II 2
And such an agony disclose,
As never from the hands of foes
To afflict the life of Heracles was found.
O dark with battle-stains, world-champion spear,
That from Oechalia’s highland leddest then
This bride that followed swiftly in thy train,
How fatally overshadowing was thy fear!
But these wild sorrows all too clearly come
From Love’s dread minister, disguised and dumb.
Ch. 1. Am I a fool, or do I truly hear
Lament new-rising from our master’s home?
Tell!
Ch. 2. Clearly from within a wailing voice
Peals piteously. The house hath some fresh woe.
Ch. 3. Mark!
How strangely, with what cloud upon her brow,
Yon aged matron with her tidings moves!
