Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/148

130 He made his way; when on the dangerous shoals Of Syrtes he was wrecked, he left his ship A helpless hulk and crossed the sea on foot. Megara: Unjust is fortune, rarely does she spare The bravest souls. No one with safety long Can brave so frequent perils; he who oft Has shunned misfortune meets at last his fate. But see, with threatening looks fierce Lycus comes, His hateful soul in hateful hearing shown, And bears the stolen scepter in his hand. [Enter Lycus.] Lycus: The rich domain of this proud town of Thebes, With all the fertile soil which Phocis bounds Within its winding borders, all the land Ismenus waters; all Cithaeron sees From his high top; the narrow Isthmus, too, Two seas asunder cleaving: all I own, Not by prerogative of long descent, A worthless heir. No noble ancestors, Nor family adorned with lofty names Have I; but splendid valor. He who boasts His noble ancestry exalts a thing Which is not his to boast. But power usurped Is held with anxious hands; the sword alone Can guard it. All thou hold'st against the will Of citizens the sword must hold for thee. No kingdom built upon a foreign soil Is safe for long. One thing alone I see Which can our power establish—Megara, By ties of royal marriage bound to me. From her illustrious line my humble blood Shall a richer hue derive. Nor do I think That she will scorn me and refuse my suit. But should she with a blind and stubborn soul Refuse my proffered hand, my mind is fixed To give to utter ruin all the house Of Hercules. Will such a deed arouse A storm of scandal and the people's hate? The art of ruling chiefly lies in this: