Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/464

446 Some subtle power, swift working, weaves again Into our web of dreams. Small wonder then, Thy sleeping thoughts were filled with marriage beds And husbands, when thy newly mated lord. Held thee in his embrace. Does it seem strange That thou shouldst dream tonight of sounds of woe, Of breasts hard beaten and of streaming hair? Octavia's departure did they mourn Within her brother's and her father's house. The torch which thou didst follow, borne aloft By Agrippina's hand, is but a sign That hate shall win for thee a mighty name. Thy marriage couch, in realms infernal seen, Portends a lasting state of wedded joy. Since in Crispinus' neck the sword was sheathed, Believe that no more wars thy lord shall wage, But hide his sword within the breast of peace. Take heart again, recall thy joys, I pray, Throw off thy fears, and to thy couch return. Poppaea: Nay, rather will I seek the sacred shrines, And there make sacrifice unto the gods, That they avert these threats of night and sleep, And turn my terrors all upon my foes. Do thou pray for me and the gods implore That in this happy state I may endure. [Exeunt Poppaea and Nurse.]

Chorus [of Roman women in sympathy with Poppaea]: If babbling rumor's tales of Jove, His secret joys in mortal love, Are true, he once, in plumage dressed, Was to the lovely Leda pressed; And as a savage bull he bore Europa from her native shore: But should he once thy form, Poppaea, see, He would leave his shining stars to dwell with thee. For thou than Leda many fold Art fairer, or that maid of old Whom Jove embraced in showers of gold. Let Sparta boast her lovely dame,