Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/295

Rh His own bravo spirit animated all. You would have thought him burning with desire To burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe, And scarce believed the flames to be true fire, So calm and so majestic was his mien. Nor did he hasten to consume himself; But when he deemed that fortitude enough Was shown in death, from every hand he dragged The burning logs which with least ardor glowed, Piled them together in a mighty fire, And to the very center of the blaze The dauntless hero went. Awhile he stood And feasted on the flames his eager eyes. Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire. But even when the flames assailed his face, And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues, He did not close his eyes. But what is this? 'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woe She makes her way, while in her breast she bears The pitiful remains of Hercules. [Enter Alcmena, carrying in her bosom a funeral urn.] Alcmena: Ye powers of heaven, I bid you fear the fates. [Holding up the urn.] How small a space Alcides' ashes fill! To this small compass has that giant come! O shining sun, how great a man has gone To nothingness. Alas, this aged breast Is large enough to be Alcides' tomb. Behold, his ashes scarce can fill the urn. How small his weight, upon whose shoulders once The dome of heaven lay, a burden light. Thou once didst go, my son, to Tartara, The farthest realms of death—and come again. Oh, when wilt thou a second time return From that infernal stream? I ask thee not To come again with spoil, nor bring again Imprisoned Theseus to the light of day; But only that thou come again—alone.