Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/278

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For now, Oh, now will I be thought the son
Of old Amphitryon. O deadly pest,
Whate'er thou art which in my vitals lurk'st,
Come forth. Why with a hidden agony 1250
Dost thou afflict my heart? What Scythian sea
Beneath the frozen north, what Tethys slow,
What Spanish Calpe nigh the Moorish shore
Begot and brought thee forth? O evil dire!
Art thou some crested serpent brandishing
Its hideous head; or some fell thing of ill 1255
As yet unknown to me, produced perchance
From Hydra's poisonous gore, or left on earth
By Cerberus, the deadly dog of Styx?
Oh, every ill art thou, and yet no ill.
What are thy form and features? Grant at least
That I may know the thing by which I die.
Whate'er thy name, whatever monster thou, 1260
Come out, and show thy terror to my face.
What enemy has made a way for thee
Unto my inmost heart? Behold my hands
Have torn aside my burning skin and so
My bleeding flesh disclosed. But deeper yet
Its hiding-place. Oh, woe invincible
As Hercules! But whence these grievous cries? 1265
And whence these tears which trickle down my cheeks?
Mv face, unmoved by grief, has never yet
Been wet with tears; but now, Oh, shame to me,
Has learned to weep. Where is the day, the land,
That has beheld the tears of Hercules?
Dry-eyed have I my troubles ever borne.
To thee alone, dire pest, to thee alone 1270
That strength has yielded which so many ills
Has overcome. Thou first, yea, first of all
Hast forced the tear-drops from these stubborn eyes.
For, harder than the bristling crag, or steel,
Or than the wandering Symplegades,
Hast thou my stern face softened, and my tears,
Unwilling, forced to flow. And now the world, 1275
O thou most mighty ruler of the skies,