Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/331

Rh Tomorrow shall a stronger lord Inspire in you. For every power Is subject to a greater power. Him, whom the dawning day beholds In proud estate, the setting sun Sees lying in the dust. Let no one then trust overmuch To favoring fate; and when she frowns, Let no one utterly despair Of better fortune yet to come. For Clotho mingles good and ill; She whirls the wheel of fate around, Nor suffers it to stand. To no one are the gods so good That he may safely call his own

Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheel Has God our fortunes placed for good or ill.

[Enter Messenger breathlessly announcing the horror which has just been enacted behind the scenes.] Messenger: Oh, for some raging blast to carry me With headlong speed through distant realms of air, And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds; That so I might this monstrous horror tear From my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame To Pelops even and to Tantalus! Chorus: What is the news thou bring'st? Messenger: What realm is this? Argos and Sparta, once the noble home Of pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shores Two rival oceans beat? Or do I see The barbarous Danube on whose frozen stream The savage Alani make swift retreat? Hyrcania beneath eternal snows? Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians? What place is this that knows such hideous crime? Chorus: But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be. Messenger: When I my scattered senses gather up,