Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/342

324 Oh, now let grief and fear depart; Let haunting hunger flee away. The grim companion of the lot Of trembling exiles; and disgrace, A heavy load for mourning souls. More boots it from what height thou fall'st, Than to what depth. How noble is't, When fallen from the pinnacle, With dauntless step and firm, to tread The lowly plain; and noble too, Though by a mass of cares o'erwhelmed, To bolster up the shattered throne With neck unbending; and with soul Heroic, undismayed by ills, To stand erect beneath the weight Of ruined fortunes. But away, Ye gloomy clouds of fate; ye marks Of former misery, depart. Thy happy fortune greet with face Of joy, and utterly forget The old Thyestes. But alas! This fault is linked with wretchedness, That never can the woeful soul Accept returned prosperity. Though kindly fortune smile again, He who has suffered finds it hard To give himself to joy. But why Dost thou restrain me? Why forbid To celebrate this festal day? Why wouldst thou have me weep, O grief, For no cause rising? Why with flowers Dost thou forbid to wreathe my hair? It does, it does forbid! For see, Upon my head the flowers of spring Have withered; and my festal locks, Though dripping with the precious nard, Stand up in sudden dread; my cheeks, That have no cause to weep, are wet