Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/173

Rh Dost shed thy light, whose beauteous face Drives night away, O glowing Sun, Grieve more than all. For equally Thy risings had Alcides seen, And eke thy settings; both thy homes Were known to him. His spirit loose From monstrous madness; loose him, ye Who rule above. His mind restore To sanity again. And thou, O Sleep, subduer of our ills, The spirit's rest, thou better part Of human life, swift-winged one, Astraea's child, of cruel Death The sluggish brother, mixing false With true, prescient of future things, But oftenest of misery; O sire of all things, gate of life, Day's respite and the comrade true Of night, who com'st impartially To king and slaves, with gentle hand The wearied spirit comforting; Thou who dost force the race of men Who quail at mortal doom, to gain A foretaste of the sleep of death: Subdue and overwhelm him quite With heavy stupor; let his limbs, Unconquered hitherto, be held Fast bound in chains of deepest sleep; Take not the spell from his fierce heart, Until his former mind return To its accustomed course. But see, prone on the ground he lies, His savage dreams in his fierce heart Still hold their sway. Not yet, alas, Is his dire madness overcome. Accustomed to recline his head Upon his heavy club, see now, He feels about with empty hand To find the ponderous trunk, his arms