Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/166

148 In rising and in setting, grow But to decay. Then spare, O death, Those who are doomed to come to thee. Life is but practicing for death; Though thou be slow in coming, still We hasten of ourselves. The hour Which gave us life begins our death. The joyful day of Thebes is here; Now at the altars sacrifice, And let the choicest victims fall. Ye maids and men, in mingled bands Begin the stately choral dance; And let the cattle of the fields Put off their yokes and be glad today; For by the hand of Hercules Has peace from east to west been won, And in that land where the sun rides high In middle heaven, and the shadows fail. Whatever region Tethys laves In her long reach has been o'ercome By great Alcides' toils. Borne now Across the shoals of Tartarus, With hell subdued, he comes again. No room is left for fear; for what Beyond the world of death remains?

And now ye priests, adorn your bristling hair With poplar which Alcides loves to wear.

Hercules: By my avenging hand lies Lycus slain; And all, who in his life the tyrant claimed As comrades, now by death are comrades still In punishment. Now will I offerings pay Unto my father and the gods of heaven For victory, and heap the altars high With bleeding victims to their kindness due. Thee, thee, O friend and helper in my toils,