Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/265

Rh Have ruined all mankind in Hercules. But why demand a weapon of the gods? For 'tis her shame that great Alcides' wife Should pray for death. Let prayers give way to deeds, And from myself let me demand my death. Take then the sword in haste. But why the sword? Whate'er can work my death is sword enough. From some heaven-piercing cliff I'll cast me down. Yea, let our neighboring Oeta be my choice, Whose top is first to greet the newborn day. From its high peak I'll hurl me down to death. May I be rent asunder on its crags, And every rock demand some part of me; Let sharp projections pierce my mangled hands, And all the rugged mountainside be red With blood. One death is not enough, 'tis true; But still its agony can be prolonged. O hesitating soul, thou canst not choose What form of death to die. Oh, that the sword Of Hercules within my chamber hung! How fitting 'twere by such a sword to die! But is't enough that by one hand I fall? Assemble, all ye nations of the world, And hurl upon me rocks and blazing brands; Let no hand shirk its task of punishment, For your avenger have I done to death. Now with impunity shall cruel kings Their scepters wield; and monstrous ills shall rise With none to let; again shall shrines be sought, Where worshiper and victim are alike In human form. A broad highway for crime Have I prepared; and, by removing him Who was their bulwark, have exposed mankind To every form of monstrous man and beast And savage god. Why dost thou cease thy work, O wife of thundering Jove? Why dost thou not, In imitation of thy brother, snatch from his own hand the fiery thunderbolt, And slay me here thyself? For thou hast lost