Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/311

Rh With verdant laural decked, proclaim their joy; Let torches gleam in celebration meet Of thy return—then let the Thracian crime Be done again, but triply hideous. Why stays the uncle's hand in idleness? Not yet Thyestes weeps his murdered sons. When will he act? The kettles o'er the fires Should even now be boiling, severed limbs Be broken up, the father's hearth be stained With children's blood, the festal tables spread. But at no untried carnival of crime Wilt thou sit down as guest. This day be free, And sate thy hunger at that festal board; Go eat thy fill, and drink the blood and wine Commingled in thy sight. A banquet this, Which thou thyself wouldst look in horror on.— But stay thee. Whither dost thou rush away? Tantalus: Back to my pools and streams and ebbing waves, Back to that tree whose ever-mocking fruit Eludes my lips. Oh, let me seek again The gloomy couch of my old prison-house; And if too little wretched I appear, Bid me my river change. Within thy stream, O Phlegethon, hemmed round with waves of fire, Let me be left to suffer. Ye, whoe'er By fate's decrees are doomed to punishment, Whoe'er thou art who 'neath the hollowed cave Dost lie, in constant fear lest even now The cavern's mass shall fall upon thy head; Whoever fears the gaping, greedy jaws Of lions, and in helpless horror looks Upon the advancing furies' cruel lines; Whoe'er, half burned, their threat'ning lurches shuns: Oh, listen to the voice of Tantalus Fast speeding to your realm; believe the words Of one who knows, and love your punishment. But now—Oh, when shall it be mine to flee This upper world?