Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/93

Rh Nor overthrow the city thou wouldst rule. What madness holds its sway within thy soul? Wouldst thou, by seeking to obtain the land, Destroy it? That it may become thine own, Dost thou intend to spoil it utterly? To thine own cause thou doest deadly wrong, In harrying this very soil of thine With hostile arms, in laying low the crops, And spreading fear through all the country round. No one such devastation ever works Upon his own. What thou dost burn with fire, And reap with sword, 'tis plain that thou dost grant To be another's. Gain thou then the throne, Whichever of you will; but gain it so That 'twill not be the kingdom's overthrow. Dost seek these homes with hostile sword and brand? Wilt thou avail to batter down these walls Which great Amphion built, these mighty walls, Whose stones no human hand e'er set in place, The huge weights moving by the creaking crane— Hut, marshaled by the strains of song and harp, The stones, e'en to the topmost turret's round, Moved of their own accord—wouldst shatter these? As victor wilt thou bear away the spoils? And shall rough soldiery lead off in chains Thy father's noble friends and stately dames Torn from their grieving husbands' very arms? And, mingled with the wretched captive band, Shall Theban maidens go as presents meet For wives of Argos? And shall I myself, My hands (disgraceful!) bound behind my back, The mother, be the booty of the son, In triumph borne? And canst thou bear to see On every hand thy fellow-citizens To dire destruction given? 'Gainst these dear walls Canst thou lead on the savage enemy, And fill thy native Thebes with blood and flame? Hast thou so wild a heart within thy breast, So hard and savage—and not yet a king?