Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/298

280 And lasting fame shall be thine epitaph. But why, O soul of mine, art thou in fear? Thou hast the ashes of thy Hercules. Embrace his bones, and they will give thee help, Will be thy sure defense. For e'en the shade Of great Alcides will make kings afraid. Philoctetes: O mother of illustrious Hercules, Restrain the tears thou deemest due thy son; For neither grieving tears nor mournful prayers Should follow him who by his noble worth Has forced his way to heaven in spite of fate. Alcides' deathless valor checks your tears. Alcmena: Why should I bate my grief? For I have lost My savior, yea, the savior of the land And sea, and wheresoe'er the shining day From his resplendent car, in east or west, Looks down upon the earth. How many sons In him, O wretched mother, have I lost! Without a kingdom, I could kingdoms give. I only, 'midst all mothers of the earth, Had never need of prayer; naught from the gods I asked, while Hercules remained alive; For what could his devotion not bestow? What god in heaven could e'er deny me aught? In my own hands was answer of my prayer; For what great Jove denied, Alcides gave. What mortal mother e'er bore such a son? A mother once with grief was turned to stone, When, 'midst her brood of fourteen children slain, She stood, one mother, and bewailed them all. To many families like hers my son Could be compared. Till now for mother's grief A measure vast enough could not be found; But now will I, Alcmena, furnish it. Then cease, ye mothers, though persistent grief Till now has bidden you weep; though heavy woe Has turned your hearts to stone; and yield you all Unto my woes.