Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/303

Rh Is faithless still. Not so, thou art a god, And holdest even now the immortal skies. I trust thy triumph still. But quickly now Unto the realm of Thebes will I repair, And proudly tell thy new-made godhead there. [Exit.] Chorus: Never is glorious manhood borne To Stygian shades. The brave live on, Nor over Lethe's silent stream Shall they by cruel fate be drawn. But when life's days are all consumed, And comes the final hour, for them A pathway to the gods is spread By glory. Be thou with us yet, O mighty conqueror of beasts, Subduer of the world. Oh, still Have thought unto this earth of ours. And if some strange, new monster come And fill the nations with his dread, Do thou with forked lightnings crush The beast; yea, hurl thy thunderbolts More mightily than Jove himself.