Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/150

132 Is grief to me. For in their cause for hate How small a share have I? Thou, swollen with pride, Rule on, and let thy soul exalt itself; But know that evermore the avenging god Pursues the proud of heart. Well do I know The history of Thebes. Why need I tell Of matrons who have dared and suffered wrong? Why name the double crime, the mingled names Of husband, father, son, the opposing camps Of brothers? Why describe the funeral pyres? The haughty mother, child of Tantalus, Still sits in stony grief; the mourning rock On Phrygian Sipylus still drips with tears. Nay, Cadmus' self, in form of serpent, still Flees through Illyria's realm with crested head, And leaves behind his dragging body's trail. Such fates admonish thee. Rule as thou will: But may the accustomed doom of Thebes be thine. Lycus: Come then, have done with this wild talk of thine, And learn from Hercules to obey the will Of kings. Although by right of victory I wield this scepter, though I reign supreme Without the fear of laws which arms annul, Still will I briefly speak in my defense. And did thy father fall in bloody war? Thy brothers too? But arms no limit know, Cannot be checked with ease, nor can the sword, Once drawn, restrain its wrath. War will have blood. But (you will say), he fought to save his state, While I was prompted by the lust of power. Still we should look, not at the cause of war, But at its outcome. Now let memory Of all the former wrongs pass from thy heart. When the victor lays aside his arms, 'tis meet The vanquished should abandon hatred too. I ask thee not upon thy bended knees To acknowledge me as king; for it is well That thou shouldst meet thy ruin dauntlessly. Lo, thou art worthy of a royal mate: