Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/155

Rh As strangers dwell, he made his way. He trod the frozen ocean's crust, A still sea hemmed by silent shores; There no waves beat on the rigid plains, And where but now full swelling sails Had sped their barks, a path is worn By the long-haired Sarmatae. There the waters change with the changing year, Now ships, now horses bearing up. From the queen who rules o'er virgin tribes, With golden girdles on their loins, He took her body's noble spoil, Her shield and her snowy bosom's guard. On bended knee she acknowledged him victor. With what hope, driven to the depths of hell, Bold to tread irretraceable ways, Didst thou behold the dusky realms Of Proserpine of Sicily? There Notus and Favonius lash No seas to rage with swelling floods; There do no frightened vessels find Help from the twin Tyndaridae. Those waters lie in stagnant pools And black; and when, with greedy teeth, Pale Death bears off uncounted tribes Unto the shades, one oarsman grim Bears all across their gloomy depths. Oh, that the laws of cruel Styx Thou mightst annul, and the distaff break, Relentless, of the fates. And lo, Thou canst avail, for he who rules O'er many nations once with thee His deadly hands in battle joined, When thou didst wage 'gainst Nestor's land A mighty war. A three-pronged spear He bore; but soon, by but a wound O'ercome, he fled. He feared to die, Though lord of death. Burst with thy hands The bonds of fate. To those sad souls