Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/82

64 Yet him, whom God condemned, who by his sire Was cast away to die, death also fled And Delphi's oracle have I fulfilled: For I with impious hand assailed my sire, And slew him. [With bitter irony] Yet, for this impiety, Perchance another act of piety Will make amends: I killed my father; true, But still I loved my mother.—Oh, 'tis shame To mention such a wedlock; yet I will, And force myself to bear this punishment, To tell abroad my more than bestial crime, So strange, that nations stand in dumb amaze, So shameful, that no age will credit it, That e'en the shameless parricide is shocked: Into my father's bed I bore my hands Smeared with my father's blood, and there received The wages of my crime—a greater crime. My father's murder was a trivial thing; But, that my sum of crime might be complete, My mother, to my marriage chamber led, Conceived—Oh, how could nature e'er endure A greater crime? And yet, if aught remains, I have begotten children vile enough To do this also. I have cast away The scepter which I won by parricide, And with it other hands are armed for war. Full well do I my kingdom's fortune know, That never more shall any gain the throne Without the sacrifice of kindred blood. Dire evils doth my father-soul presage, For even now are sown the baleful seeds Of future strife; the plighted pact is spurned; One will not yield the throne he hath usurped, The other claims his right, calls on the gods To witness of his bond, and, driven from home, Moves Argos and the towns of Greece to arms. No light destruction comes to weary Thebes;