Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/129

Rh That punishment would be most fitting and deserved. Yes, now I see the final deed of crime, and thou, My soul, must face it. You, who once were called my sons, Must pay the penalty of these your father's crimes— My heart with horror melts, a numbing chill pervades My limbs, and all my soul is filled with sinking fear. Now wrath gives place, and, heedless of my husband's sins, The tender mother-instinct quite possesses me. And could I shed my helpless children's blood? Not so, Oh, say not so, my maddened heart! Far from my hand And thought be that unnameable and hideous deed! What sin have they that shedding of their wretched blood Would wash away? Their sin—that Jason is their sire, And, deeper guilt, that I have borne them. Let them die; They are not mine. Nay, nay! they are my own, my sons, And with no spot of guilt. Full innocent they are, 'Tis true—my brother, too, was innocent. O soul, Why dost thou hesitate? Why flow these streaming tears, While with contending thoughts my wavering heart is torn? As when conflicting winds contend in stubborn strife, And waves, to stormy waves opposed, the sea invade, And to their lowest sands the briny waters boil; With such a storm my heart is tossed. Hate conquers love, And love puts impious hate to flight. Oh, yield thee, grief, To love! Then come, my sons, sole comfort of my heart, Come, cling within your mother's close embrace. Unharmed Your sire may keep you, while your mother holds you too. [Embraces her sons.] But flight and exile drive me forth! And even now My children must be torn away with tears and cries. Then let them die to Jason since they're lost to me. Once more has hate resumed her sway, and passion's fire Is hot within my soul. Now fury, as of yore, Reseeks her own. Lead on, I follow to the end! I would that I had borne twice seven sons, the boast Of Niobe! But all too barren have I been. Still will my two sufficient be to satisfy My brother and my sire.