Oh, let me bear, myself, thy sufferings
And give my life for thee. Or shall I wait
And keep myself for death at thy right hand?
Hast still some strength in thee, and can thy hands
Still bend the bow and speed the fatal shaft?
Or do thy weapons lie unused, thy bow 975
No more obedient to thy nerveless hand?
But if, perchance, thou still art strong to slay,
Undaunted husband, I await thy hand;
Yea, for this cause will I postpone my death.
As thou didst Lichas crush, though innocent,
Crush me, to other cities scatter me,
Yea, hurl me to a land to thee unknown. 980
Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian boar,
And every monster that resisted[1] thee.
But Oh, from them, my husband, thou didst come
Victorious and safe.
Hyllus: Give o'er, I pray,
My mother; cease to blame thy guiltless fates.
Thy deed was but an error, not a fault.
Deianira: My son, if thou wouldst truly filial be,
Come, slay thy mother. Why with trembling hand 985
Dost thou stand there? Why turn away thy face?
Such crime as this is truest piety.
Still dost thou lack incentive for the deed?
Behold, this hand took Hercules from thee,
Took that great sire through whom thou dost derive
Thy blood from thundering Jove. I've stolen from thee
A greater glory than the life I gave 990
At birth. If thou art all unskilled in crime,
Learn from thy mother; wouldst thou thrust the sword
Into my neck, or sheath it in my womb,
I'll make thy soul courageous for the deed.
Thou wilt not be the doer of this crime;
For though 'tis by thy hand that I shall fall, 995
'Twill be my will. O son of Hercules,
Art thou afraid? Wilt thou not be like him,
Perform thy bidden tasks, the monsters slay?
- ↑ Reading, restitit.
