Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/239

Rh Band of captive Oechalian maidens: The mate of the immortals he, Whose life and fortune hand in hand Go on apace. But worse than death Is life, dragged on with many groans. Whoe'er has trodden under foot The greedy fates, and can disdain The boat that plies on death's dark stream, Will never feel the galling chains Upon his captive arms; nor grace, As noble spoil, the victor's train. For he who faces death with joy Can ne'er be wretched. Should his bark Be wrecked upon the stormy sea Where Africus with Boreas, And Zephyrus with Eurus strive, And rend the seas; he does not seek To gather up the broken parts Of his wrecked ship, that, far at sea, He still may cherish hopes of land. For he, who ever ready stands To give his life, alone is safe From all the perils of the storm. But we are held by shameful grief, The gaunt, drawn face, the streaming tears, By the ashes of our fatherland Besprinkled. Us no whirling flame, Nor crash of falling walls o'erwhelms. Thou dost pursue the fortunate, O death, but fleest from wretched souls. Behold, we live: but Oh, no more, Our country's walls remain; their place Shall soon be hidden by the woods, And all our temples fall away To squalid hovels. Even now The cold Dolopian will come And o'er the ashes, glowing yet, Sad remnants of Oechalia,