Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/393

Rh One climbs a smouldering roof; unto another A crumbling wall precarious footing gives; While others (shameless!) stand on Hector's tomb. Now through the thronging crowd with stately tread Ulysses makes his way, and by the hand He leads the little prince of Ilium. With equal pace the lad approached the wall; But when he reached the lofty battlement, He stood and gazed around with dauntless soul. And as the savage lion's tender young, Its fangless jaws, all powerless to harm, Still snaps with helpless wrath and swelling heart; So he, though held in that strong foeman's grasp, Stood firm, defiant. Then the crowd of men, And leaders, and Ulysses' self, were moved. But he alone wept not of all the throng Who wept for him. And now Ulysses spake In priestly wise the words of fate, and prayed, And summoned to the rite the savage gods; When suddenly, on self-destruction bent, The lad sprang o'er the turret's edge, and plunged Into the depths below.— Andromache: What Colchian, what wandering Scythian, What lawless race that dwells by Caspia's sea Could do or dare a crime so hideous? No blood of helpless children ever stained Busiris' altars, monster though he was; Nor did the horses of the Thracian king E'er feed on tender limbs. Where is my boy? Who now will take and lay him in the tomb? Messenger: Alas, my lady, how can aught remain From such a fall, but broken, scattered bones, Dismembered limbs, and all those noble signs In face and feature of his royal birth, Confused and crushed upon the ragged ground? Who was thy son lies now a shapeless corse. Andromache: Thus also is he like his noble sire. Messenger: When headlong from the tower the lad had sprung, And all the Grecian throng bewailed the crime