So shall it be; for even now
The skies are tottering with thy fall. 1160
Hercules: Lo I, who have escaped the hands of death,
Who scorned the Styx, and thence through Lethe's pool
Returned with spoil so grim and terrible,
That Titan from his reeling chariot
Was well-nigh thrown; I, whom three realms have felt:
I feel the pangs of death, and yet no sword 1165
Has pierced my side, nor has some mighty crag,
All Othrys, been the weapon of my death;
No giant with his fierce and gaping jaws
Has heaped high Pindus on my lifeless corpse.
Without an enemy am I o'erwhelmed; 1170
And, what brings greater anguish to my soul
(Shame to my manhood!), this my final day
Has seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me.
My life is squandered—and for no return.
O thou, whose rule is over all the world;
Ye gods of heaven who have beheld my deeds;
O earth, is't fitting that your Hercules 1175
Should die by such a death? Oh, cruel shame!
Oh, base and bitter end—that fame should say
Great Hercules was by a woman slain,
He who in mortal combat has o'ercome[1]
So many men and beasts! If changeless fate
Had willed that I by woman's hand should die, 1180
And if to such base end my thread of life,
Alas, must lead, Oh, that I might have fallen
By Juno's hate. 'Twould be by woman's hand,
But one who holds the heavens in her sway.
If that, ye gods, were more than I should ask,
The Amazon, beneath the Scythian skies
Brought forth, might better have o'ercome my strength.
But by what woman's hand shall I be said, 1185
Great Juno's enemy, to have been slain?
This is for thee, my stepdame, deeper shame.
Why shouldsl thou call this day a day of joy?
What baleful thing like this has earth produced
- ↑ Reading, auctor.
