Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/279

Rh Has seen me giving way to tears and groans; And, that which brings me greater anguish still, My stepdame too has seen. But lo, again The scorching heat flames up and burns my heart. Oh, slay me, father, with thy heavenly dart. Chorus: Where is the strength that can withstand The power of suffering? But now More hard than Thracian Haemus' crags, Sterner than savage northern skies, He is by agony subdued. His fainting head upon his breast Falls low; his massive frame he shifts From side to side; now and again His manly courage dries his tears. So, with however warm a flame Bright Titan labors to dissolve The arctic snows, still are his fires By those bright, icy rays outshone. Hercules: O father, turn and look upon my woes. Never till now has great Alcides fled To thee for aid; not when around my limbs The deadly hydra, fertile in its death, Its writhing serpents folded. 'Mid the pools Of hell, by that thick pall of death I stood Surrounded close; and yet I called thee not. How many dreadful beasts have I o'ercome, How many kings and tyrants; yet my face Have I ne'er turned in suppliance to the sky. This hand of mine alone has been the god Who heard my prayers. No gleaming thunderbolts Have ever flashed from heaven on my account. But now at last has come a woeful time Which bids me ask for aid. This day, the first And last, shall hear the prayers of Hercules. One thunderbolt I ask, and only one. Consider me a giant storming heaven. Yea, heaven I might have stormed in very truth; But, since I deemed thee sire, I spared the skies. Oh, whether thou be harsh or merciful,