Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/330

312 And Cyclops dreads his father's rage Where he sits on burning Aetna's crag, Lest the deathless flames on his roaring forge Be quenched by the overwhelming floods; When poor Laërtes feels the shock Of reeling Ithaca, and thinks That his island realm will be swallowed up: Then, if the fierce winds die away, The waves sink back in their quiet depths; And the sea, which of late the vessels feared, Now far and wide with swelling sails Is overspread, while tiny skiffs Skim safely o'er its harmless breast; And one may count the very fish Deep down within the peaceful caves, Where but now, beneath the raping blast, The battered islands feared the sea. No lot endureth long. For grief And pleasure, each in turn, depart; But pleasure has a briefer reign. From lowest to the highest state A fleeting hour may bring us. He, Who wears a crown upon his brow, To whom the trembling nations kneel, Before whose nod the barbarous Medes Lay down their arms, the Indians too, Who dwell beneath the nearer sun, And Dacians, who the Parthian horse Are ever threat'ning: he, the king, With anxious mind the scepter bears, Foresees and fears the fickle chance And shifting time which soon or late Shall all his power overthrow. Ye, whom the ruler of the land And sea has given o'er subject men The fearful power of life and death, Abate your overweening pride. For whatsoever fear of you Your weaker subjects feel today,