Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/262

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O day, O awful day! and must this be
The final day for mighty Hercules?
Deianira: ⁠To death and the world of shades, to that dark realm,
Dost say that he has gone already? Why,
Oh, why may I not be the first to go?
But tell me truly, if he still doth live.
Hyllus: ⁠Euboea stands with high uplifted head, 775
On every side lashed by the tossing waves.
Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea,
And here rough Auster blows. But on the side
Which feels the blast of snowy Aquilo,
Euripus restless leads his wandering waves;
Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high, 780
Seven limes they sink again, before the sun
His weary horses plunges in the sea.
Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,
An ancient temple of Cenaean Jove
Gleams far and wide. When at the altars stood
The votive herd, and all the grove was full
Of hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls; 785
Then Hercules put off his lion's skin
With gore besmeared, his heavy club laid down,
And freed his shoulders of the quiver's weight.
Then, gleaming brightly in the robe thou gav'st,
His shaggy locks with hoary poplar wreathed,
He lit the altar fires, and prayed: "O Jove, 790
Not falsely called my father, take these gifts
And let the sacred fire blaze brightly up
With copious incense, which the Arab rich
From Saba's trees in worship of the sun
Collects. All monsters of the earth, the sea,
The sky have been subdued at last, and I,
As victor over all, am home returned. 795
Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then.
But even as he prayed a heavy groan
Fell from his lips, and he was horror struck
And mute awhile. And then with dreadful cries
He filled the air. As when a votive bull
Feels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax,