Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/373

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For hither bends the Ithacan his course.
Andromache [with a final appealing look toward the tomb]: Yawn deep,
⁠O earth, and thou, my husband, rend
To even greater depths thy tomb's deep cave, 520
And hide the sacred trust I gave to thee
Within the very bosom of the pit.
Now comes Ulysses, grave and slow of tread;
Methinks he plotteth mischief in his heart.
⁠[Enter Ulysses.]
Ulysses: ⁠As harsh fate's minister, I first implore
That, though the words are uttered by my lips, 525
Thou count them not my own. They are the voice
Of all the Grecian chiefs, whom Hector's son
Doth still prohibit from that homeward voyage
So long delayed. And him the fates demand.
A peace secure the Greeks can never feel,
And ever will the backward-glancing fear 530
Compel them on defensive arms to lean,
While on thy living son, Andromache,
The conquered Phrygians shall rest their hopes.
So doth the augur, Calchas, prophesy.
Yet, even if our Calchas spake no word,
Thy Hector once declared it, and I fear
Lest in his son a second Hector dwell; 535
For ever doth a noble scion grow
Into the stature of his noble sire.
Behold the little comrade of the herd,
His budding horns still hidden from the sight:
Full soon with arching neck and lofty front,
He doth command and lead his father's flock. 540
The slender twig, just lopped from parent bough,
Its mother's height and girth surpasses soon,
And casts its shade abroad to earth and sky.
So doth a spark within the ashes left,
Leap into flame again before the wind.
Thy grief, I know, must partial judgment give; 545
Still, if thou weigh the matter, thou wilt grant
That after ten long years of grievous war.
A veteran soldier doeth well to fear