Page:Ten Tragedies of Seneca (1902).djvu/156

136 Opus est Thyeste. turba famularis fores

Templi relaxa; festa patesiat domus

Libet videre, capita natorum intuens

Quos det colores, verba quæ primus dolor

Effundat, aut ut spiritu expulso stupens

Corpus rigescat. fructus hic operis mei est.

Miserum videro nolo, sed dum sit mifer.

Aperta multa tecta collucent face.

Resupinus ipse purpura atque auro incubat,

Vino gravatum fulciens læva caput.

Eructat. o me cœlitum excelsissimum,

Regumque regem! vota transcendi mea.

Satur est, capaci ducit argento merum.

Ne parce potu, restat etiamnum cruor

Tot hostiarum. veteris hunc Bacchi color

Abscondet, hoc hæc mensa claudatur scypho.

Mixtum suorum sanguinem genitor bibat;

Meum bibisset, ecce jam cantus ciet,

Festasque voces, nec fatis menti imperat.

longis hebetata malis,

Jam sollicitas ponite curas.

Fugiat mœror, fugiatque pavor.

Fugiat trepidi comes exsilii

Tristis egestas, rebusque gravis

Pudor afflictis. magis unde cadas,

Quam quo, refert. magnum, ex alto

Culmine lapsum, stabilem in plano

Figere gressum: magnum, ingenti

Strage malorum pressum, fracti

Pondera regni non inflexa

Cervice pati; nec degenerem

Victumque malis, rectum impositas

Ferre ruinas, sed jam sævi

 miseries are now concealed from himself. Thyestes, thou art posing for much too long a time, as a guest with a contented and merry countenance, thou hast taken by this time enough of the solid viands and drunk quite enough wine; it is necessary that Thyestes should be in his sober senses to feel his misery properly! Come, all ye servants, open every door of the palace, I wish the place to put on a festive look, I wonder what sort of a visage he will have, whether it will be pale or red with surprise! What words will convey his first cries of grief, 