Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/178

160 Let me be bound upon the Caspian rocks, And let the birds of prey devour my flesh. Why lacks Prometheus' cliff a prisoner? Prepare for me the bare, steep mountain side Of Caucasus, that, on his towering peak, The birds and beasts of prey may feed on me. Or let the blue Symplegades, which hedge The Scythian deep, stretch out my fettered hands This way and that; and, when with rhythmic change The rocks together clash, which fling to heaven The sea that lies between the rushing cliffs, May I lie there, the mountains' restless check. Or why not heap a mighty pyre of wood, And burn my body stained with impious blood? Thus, thus it must be done; so Hercules Shall to the lower world return again. Amphitr.: Not yet has madness ceased to vex his heart. But now his wrath has changed, and, fury's sign, He rages 'gainst himself. Hercules: Ye dire abodes Of fiends, ye prison-house of damnéd shades, Ye regions set apart for guilty throngs, If any place of exile lie beyond Deep Erebus, unknown to Cerberus And me, there hide ye me. I'll go and dwell Upon the farthest bound of Tartarus. O heart, too hard! Who worthily will weep For you, my children, scattered through my house? This face, woe-hardened, knows not how to weep. Bring me my sword, and give me here my darts, My mighty club. [He addresses the four corpses in order.] For thee, poor murdered boy, I'll break my shafts; for thee my mighty bow Shall be asunder riven; to thy shades My heavy club shall burn; and on thy pyre My quiver, full of venomed darts, shall lie. My arms shall pay their penalty for sin. You, too, my guilty hands, with these shall burn,