Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/236

218 No more Antaeus, Libya's monarch huge, His strength renews; before his bloody shrines Busiris lies o'erthrown; by my sole hand The threefold Geryon was o'ercome and slain, And that dread terror of a hundred tribes, The Cretan bull, yea all the monstrous things To which the hostile world has given birth, Have fallen in utter ruin by my hand. If now the earth am show no monsters more, If now my stepdame has her wrath fulfilled, Restore the father to his son; yea, more— Admit the hero to his proper skies. I ask not that thou point the way to me; Permit it only, father, and the way I'll find. Or, if thou fearest that the earth Shall to the light new shapes of terror bring, Let them make haste to come, whate'er they be, While still the earth beholds her Hercules. For who will e'er again these fearsome things Attack, or who, throughout the towns of Greece, Will e'er be worthy of great Juno's hate? In truth, my praises have I safe bestowed, Since now there is no land but sings of me. The Scythian, dwelling in the frozen North, The Indian, smitten by the burning rays Of Phoebus, and the tropic African: All know my fame. O glowing Sun, I thee As witness call: I have encountered thee Where'er thou shin'st; nor have thy darting beams Availed to follow my triumphant course. I've gone beyond the reaches of the sun, And daylight halted far within my bounds. The world of nature yielded; for my steps No earth remained. She was exhausted first. But night and utter chaos met me there. From that dark realm whence no one e'er returns, Have I come back to earth. Old Ocean's threats Have I endured; no raging storm of his Has e'er prevailed to overcome the bark