Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/300

282 Demands lament for Hercules; And the monster of Stympnalus' pool, Whose spreading wings shut out the day, By great Alcides' arrows slain. Weep thou, Cleonae, weep and wail For him; for once the lion huge Which held your walls in terror, he, By his strong hand, o'ercame and slew. Ye Thracian matrons, beat your breasts, And let cold Hebrus resound to your beating. Lament for Alcides: no longer your children Are born for the stables; no longer your vitals Wild horses devour. O ye African lands, From Antaeus delivered, ye regions of Spain From Geryon saved, come, weep for your hero. Yea, all ye wretched nations, weep With me and smite your breasts in woe, And let your blows be heard afar, By eastern and by western shores. Ye dwellers in the whirling sky, Ye gods above, do ye, too, weep The fate of Hercules; for he Your heavens upon his shoulders bore, When Atlas, who was wont to bear The spangled skies, was eased awhile Of his vast load. Where now, O Jove, Is the promised palace of the sky, Those heavenly heights? Alcides dies And is entombed—the common lot. How often has he spared for thee The deadly thunderbolt of wrath! How seldom wast thou forced to hurl Thy fires! But hurl 'gainst me at least One shaft, and think me Semele. And now, O son, hast thou obtained The fields Elysian, the shore To which the voice of nature calls All nations? Or has gloomy Styx Hemmed in thy way in vengeful wrath