Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/227

555–591] In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur’s gift,

Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound

Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death.

He o’er Evenus’ rolling depths, for hire,

Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying

Or rowing-boat, or canvas-winged bark.

Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride,

I followed by my father’s sending forth,

Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed

With wanton touch. And I cried out; and he,

Zeus’ son, turned suddenly, and from his bow

Sent a wing’d shaft, that whizzed into his chest

To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice

Spake to me:—‘Child of aged Oeneüs,

Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win

Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do

What now I bid thee. With a careful hand

Collect and bear away the clotted gore

That clogs my wound, e’en where the monster snake

Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall;

And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul

For Heracles, that never through the eye

Shall he receive another love than thine.’

Whereof bethinking me, for since his death

I kept it in a closet locked with care,

I have applied it to this robe, with such

Addition as his living voice ordained.—

The thing is done. No criminal attempts

Could e’er be mine. Far be they from my thought,

As I abhor the woman who conceives them!

But if by any means through gentle spells

And bonds on Heracles’ affection, we

May triumph o’er this maiden in his heart,

My scheme is perfected. Unless you deem

Mine action wild. If so, I will desist.

. If any ground of confidence approve

Thine act, we cannot check thy counsel here.

. My confidence is grounded on belief,

Though unconfirmed as yet by actual proof.