Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/53

Rh In shame, and, skulking, tiers the shadowy throng, And hides himself away; but still the seer, With unrelenting purpose pressing on, Repeats his strong compelling exorcisms, Until he brings the ghost to open view. I shudder as I tell it. There he stood, A fearful sight, his body drenched with blood, His matted locks o'erspread with horrid filth. And now, with raging tongue, the specter spoke: "O wild and savage house of Cadmus, thou Who ever dost rejoice in brother's blood! The thyrsus wave, in madness rend thy sons. The greatest crime of Thebes is mother's love. O fatherland, 'tis not the wrath of heaven, But sin of man by which thou art undone. No plague-fraught south wind with its deadly blast, Nor yet the parchéd earth with its dry breath, Is harming thee; but 'tis thy bloody king, Who, as the prize of savage murder done, Hath seized his father's scepter and his bed.  An impious son (but far more impious, The mother who in most unhallowed womb Bore children once again), he forced his way Back to his source of life, and there begot Upon his mother offspring horrible, Got brothers to himself, a custom base, Whence e'en the very beasts of prey are free.  Oh, base entanglement, more monstrous far Than that fell Sphinx which he himself hath slain. Thee, thee, who dost the bloody scepter hold, Thee will thy sire, still unavenged, pursue, With all thy town; and with me will I bring Th' attendant fury of my wedding night— I'll bring her with her loud-resounding lash! Thy house, polluted, will I overthrow, And thy Penates will I trample down In fratricidal strife! Then quickly drive Thy king, O Thebes, from out thy boundaries!