And lasting fame shall be thine epitaph.
But why, O soul of mine, art thou in fear?
Thou hast the ashes of thy Hercules.
Embrace his bones, and they will give thee help,
Will be thy sure defense. For e'en the shade 1830
Of great Alcides will make kings afraid.
Philoctetes: O mother of illustrious Hercules,
Restrain the tears thou deemest due thy son;
For neither grieving tears nor mournful prayers
Should follow him who by his noble worth
Has forced his way to heaven in spite of fate.
Alcides' deathless valor checks your tears. 1835
Alcmena: Why should I bate my grief? For I have lost
My savior,[1] yea, the savior of the land
And sea,[2] and wheresoe'er the shining day
From his resplendent car, in east or west,
Looks down upon the earth. How many sons
In him, O wretched mother, have I lost! 1840
Without a kingdom, I could kingdoms give.
I only, 'midst all mothers of the earth,
Had never need of prayer; naught from the gods
I asked, while Hercules remained alive;
For what could his devotion not bestow?
What god in heaven could e'er deny me aught? 1845
In my own hands was answer of my prayer;
For what great Jove denied, Alcides gave.
What mortal mother e'er bore such a son?
A mother once with grief was turned to stone,
When, 'midst her brood of fourteen children slain,
She stood, one mother, and bewailed them all. 1850
To many families like hers my son
Could be compared. Till now for mother's grief
A measure vast enough could not be found;
But now will I, Alcmena, furnish it.
Then cease, ye mothers, though persistent grief
Till now has bidden you weep; though heavy woe 1855
Has turned your hearts to stone; and yield you all
Unto my woes.
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The Tragedies of Seneca
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