Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/332

314 And horrid fear lets go its numbing bold Upon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still, The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed! Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far, Far distant, where the vanished day is borne. Chorus: Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty. Speak out and tell us what this horror is, And who its author. Yet would I inquire Not who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then. Messenger: There is upon the lofty citadel A part of Pelops' house that fronts the south, Whose farther side lifts up its massive walls To mountain heights; for so the reigning king May better sway the town, and hold in check The common rabble when it scorns the throne. Within this palace is a gleaming hall, So huge, it may a multitude contain; Whose golden architraves are high upborne By stately columns of a varied hue. Behind this public hall where people throng, The palace stretches off in spacious rooms; And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies, Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spot An ancient grove within a dale confines, Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords, Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress trees And yews, and woods of gloomy ilex wave Their melancholy boughs. Above them all A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad, O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this place The royal sons of Tantalus are wont To ask consent of heaven to their rule, And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns. Here hang their consecrated offerings: Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots, Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea; Still hang upon the treacherous axle-trees The conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grim Of every crime this sinful race has done.