Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/362

344 That, though his mother bade him shun the war, And spend his life in long, inglorious ease, Surpassing even Pylian Nestor's years, He cast his mother's shamming garments off. Confessing him the hero that he was? When Telephus, in pride of royal power, Forbade our progress through his kingdom's bounds, lie stained with royal blood the untried hand That young Achilles raised. Yet once again He felt that selfsame hand in mercy laid Upon his wound to heal him of its smart. Then did Eëtion, smitten sore, behold His city taken and his realm o'erthrown; By equal fortune fell Lyrnessus' walls, For safety perched upon a ridgy height, Whence came that captive maid, Briseis fair; And Chrysa, too, lies low, the destined cause Of royal strife; and Tenedos, and the land Which on its spreading pastures feeds the flocks Of Thracian shepherds, Scyros; Lesbos too, Upon whose rocky shore the sea in twain Is cleft; and Cilia, which Apollo loved. All these my father took, and eke the towns Whose walls Caÿcus with his vernal flood Doth wash against. This widespread overthrow Of tribes, this fearful and destructive scourge, That swept through many towns with whirlwind power— This had been glory and the height of fame For other chiefs; 'twas but an incident In great Achilles' journey to the war. So came my father and such wars he waged While but preparing war. And though I pass In silence all his other merits, still Would mighty Hector's death be praise enough. My father conquered Troy; the lesser task Of pillage and destruction is your own. 'Tis pleasant thus to laud my noble sire And all his glorious deeds pass in review: Before his father's eyes did Hector lie,