Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/228

210 On me, me only, let that rock be placed, The everlasting toil of Sisyphus, And let these wearied bands upbear its weight; Let cooling waters lap and mock my lips; Let that fell vulture fly from Tityos, And let my vitals ever living be For punishment. And thou, Ixion, sire Of my Pirithoüs, take rest awhile, And let the wheel that never stops its flight Bear these my limbs upon its whirling rim. Now yawn, O earth, and chaos dire, receive, I pray, receive me to your depths; for thus 'Tis fitting that I journey to the shades. I go to meet my son. And fear thou not, Thou king of dead men's souls; I come in peace To that eternal home, whence ne'er again Shall I come forth. My prayers move not the gods. But if some impious plea I made to them, How ready would they be to grant my prayer! Chorus: Theseus, thou hast unending time to mourn. Now pay the funeral honors due thy son, And bury these poor torn and scattered limbs. Theseus: Then hither bring the pitiful remains Of that dear corpse, and heap together here That shapeless mass of flesh, those mangled limbs. Is this Hippolytus? I realize My depth of crime, for I have murdered thee. And lest but once and I alone should sin, A parent, bent to do an impious thing, My father did I summon to my aid. Behold, my father's boon do I enjoy. O childlessness, a bitter loss art thou For broken age! But come, embrace his limbs, Whatever of thy hapless son is left, And clasp them, wretched father, to thy breast. Arrange in order those dismembered parts, And to their proper place restore them. Here His brave right hand should be. Place here the left,