Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/235



[On the Cenaean promontory of the island of Euboea.] Hercules [about to sacrifice to Cenaean Jove]: O sire of gods, from whose almighty hand Both homes of Phoebus feel thy darting bolt: Rule now serene, for I have 'stablished peace Wherever Nereus checks the spreading lands. Now let thy thunders rest; for treacherous kings And savage tyrants are in ruin laid. Whatever merited thy blasting darts Have I o'erthrown and crushed. But, father, why Is heaven still denied to me, thy son? For surely have I ever shown myself A worthy child of Jove; and Juno's self, My hard task-mistress, testifies to this, That I am born of thee. Why dost thou still Contrive delays? Am I thy cause of fear? Will Atlas not avail to prop the skies If to their bulk the weight of Hercules Be superadded? Why, O father, why Dost thou deny the stars to me? To thee Did death restore me; every monstrous shape Which had its source in earth or sea or air, Or hell itself, has yielded to my arms. No lion treads the Arcadian cities now; Stymphalus fears no more its noxious birds; The wondrous stag of Maenalus is dead; The watchful dragon spattered with its blood The golden grove; the hydra's force is gone; Those famous horses to the Hebrus known, Which fattened on the blood of murdered guests, Have I destroyed, and spoils of war obtained In victory o'er my Amazonian foe. I saw the silent realms; nor all alone Did I return, but shuddering day beheld Dark Cerberus, and he beheld the sun.