Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/379

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That thou mayst stay Ulysses' lawless hand. Thy spirit will suffice.— Behold he comes! His arms he brandishes, and firebrands hurls. Ye Greeks, do ye behold him, or do I, With solitary sight, alone behold? Ulysses: This tomb and all it holds will I destroy. Andromache [aside, while the attendants begin to demolish the tomb]: Ah me, can I permit the son and sire To be in common ruin overwhelmed? Perchance I may prevail upon the Greeks By prayer.—But even now those massive stones Will crush my hidden child.—Oh, let him die, In any other way, and anywhere, If only father crush not son, and son No desecration bring to father's dust. [Casts herself at the feet of Ulysses.] A humble suppliant at thy knees I fall, Ulysses; I, who never yet to man Have bent the knee in prayer, thy feet embrace. By all the gods, have pity on my woes, And with a calm and patient heart receive My pious prayers. And as the heavenly powers Have high exalted thee in pride and might, The greater mercy show thy fallen foes. Whate'er is given to wretched suppliant Is loaned to fate. So mayst thou see again Thy faithful wife; so may Laërtes live To greet thee yet again; so may thy son Behold thy face, and, more than that thou canst pray, Excel his father's valor and the years Of old Laërtes. Pity my distress: The only comfort left me in my woe, Is this my son. Ulysses: Produce the boy—and pray. Andromache [goes to the tomb and calls to Astyanax]: Come forth, my son, from the place of thy hiding Where thy mother bestowed thee with weeping and fear. [Astyanax appears from the tomb. Andromache presents him to Ulysses.]