Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/390

372 And sore beset by all my woes at once. Now must I blush, not for my slavery, But for my master's sake. Yet Ithaca, That barren land by savage seas beset, Shall not receive my bones. Then up, Ulysses, And lead thy captive home. I'll not refuse To follow thee as lord; for well I know That my untoward fates shall follow me. No gentle winds shall fill thy homeward sails, But stormy blasts shall rage; destructive wars, And fires, and Priam's evil fates and mine, Shall haunt thee everywhere. But even now, While yet those ills delay, hast thou received Some punishment. For I usurped thy lot, And stole thy chance to win a fairer prize. [Enter Pyrrhus.] But see, with hurried step and lowering brow, Stern Pyrrhus comes. [To Pyrrhus.] Why dost thou hesitate? Come pierce my vitals with thy impious sword, And join the parents of Achilles' bride. Make haste, thou murderer of agéd men, My blood befits thee too. [Pointing to Polyxena.] Away with her; Defile the face of heaven with murder's stain, Defile the shades.—But why make prayer to you? I'll rather pray the sea whose savage rage Befits these bloody rites; the selfsame doom, Which for my ship I pray and prophesy, May that befall the thousand ships of Greece, And so may evil fate engulf them all.

Chorus: 'Tis sweet for one in grief to know That he but feels a common woe; And lighter falls the stroke of care Which all with equal sorrow bear;