Part 15 (1/2)
CHORAL INTERLUDE IV
_Strophe I_
My venturous foot delights {1018} To tread the Muses' arduous heights; Their hallow'd haunts I love t' explore, And listen to their lore: Yet never could my searching mind Aught, like Necessity, resistless find.
No herb of sovereign pow'r to save, Whose virtues Orpheus joy'd to trace, And wrote them in the rolls of Thrace; Nor all that Phoebus gave, Instructing the Asclepian train, When various ills the human frame a.s.sail, To heal the wound, to soothe the pain, 'Gainst Her stern force avail.
_Antistrophe I_
Of all the Pow'rs Divine {1032} Alone none dares t' approach Her shrine; To Her no hallow'd image stands, No altar She commands.
In vain the victim's blood would flow, She never deigns to hear the suppliant's vow.
Never to me mayst Thou appear, Dread G.o.ddess, with severer mien Than oft in life's past tranquil scene Thou hast been known to wear.
By Thee Jove works his stern behest: Thy force subdues e'en Scythia's stubborn steel; Nor ever does Thy rugged breast The touch of pity feel.
_Strophe II_
And now, with ruin pleas'd, {1046} On thee, O King, her hands have seiz'd, And bound thee in her iron chain: Yet her fell force sustain.
For from the gloomy realms of night No tears recall the dead to life's sweet light.
No virtue, though to heav'n allied, Saves from the inevitable doom: Heroes and sons of G.o.ds have died, And sunk into the tomb.
Dear, whilst our eyes her presence blest, Dear, in the gloomy mansions of the dead: Most generous she, the n.o.blest, best, Who graced thy nuptial bed.
_Antistrophe II_
Thy wife's sepulchral mound {1060} Deem not as common, worthless ground That swells their breathless bodies o'er Who die, and no are more.
No, be it honor'd as a shrine; Raised high, and hallow'd to some Pow'r Divine: The traveller, as he pa.s.ses by, Shall thither bend his devious way, With reverence gaze, and with a sigh, Smite on his breast, and say: ”She died of old to save her lord; Now blest among the blest; Hail, Pow'r revered, To us thy wonted grace afford!”
Such vows shall be preferred.
EXODUS, OR FINALE
_Re-enter Hercules, leading a veiled woman_
_Herc._ I would speak freely to my friend, Admetus, Nor what I blame keep secret in my breast.
I came to thee amidst thy ills, and thought I had been worthy to be proved thy friend.
Thou told'st me not the obsequies prepared {1080} Were for thy wife; but in thy house receiv'dst me As if thou griev'dst for one of foreign birth.
I bound my head with garlands, to the G.o.ds Pouring libations in thy house with grief Oppress'd. I blame this: yes, in such a state I blame this: yet I come not in thine ills To give thee pain; why I return in brief Will I unfold. This woman from my hands Receive to thy protection, till return'd I bring the Thracian steeds, having there slain {1090} The proud Bistorian tyrant; should I fail-- Be that mischance not mine, for much I wish Safe to revisit thee--yet should I fail, I give her to the safeguard of thy house.
For with much toil she came unto my hands.
To such as dare contend some public games, Which well deserv'd my toil, I find propos'd; I bring her thence, she is the prize of conquest: For slight a.s.says each victor led away A courser; but for those of harder proof {1100} The conqueror was rewarded from the herd, And with some female graced; victorious there, A prize so n.o.ble it were base to slight.
Take her to thy protection, not by stealth Obtain'd, but the reward of many toils: The time, perchance, may come when thou will thank me.
_Adm._ Not that I slight thy friends.h.i.+p, or esteem thee Other than n.o.ble, wished I to conceal My wife's unhappy fate; but to my grief It had been added grief, if thou had'st sought Elsewhere the rites of hospitality; Suffice it that I mourn ills which are mine.
This woman, if it may be, give in charge, I beg thee, king, to some Thessalian else, That hath not cause like me to grieve; in Pherae Thou may'st find many friends; call not my woes Fresh to my memory; never in my house Could I behold her, but my tears would flow: To sorrow add not sorrow; now enough I sink beneath its weight. Where should her youth With me be guarded? for her gorgeous vests Proclaim her young; if mixing with the men She dwell beneath my roof, how shall her fame, Conversing with the youths, be kept unsullied?
It is not easy to restrain the warmth Of that intemperate age; my care for thee Warns me of this. Or if from them remov'd I hide her in th' apartments late my wife's, How to my bed admit her? I should fear A double blame: my citizens would scorn me As light and faithless to the kindest wife That died for me, if to her bed I took Another blooming bride; and to the dead Behoves me pay the highest reverence Due to her merit. And thou, lady, know, Whoe'er thou art, that form, that shape, that air Resembles my Alcestis! By the G.o.ds, Remove her from my sight! it is too much, I cannot bear it; when I look on her, Methinks I see my wife; this wounds my heart And calls the tears fresh gus.h.i.+ng from my eyes.
This is the bitterness of grief indeed!
_Chor._ I cannot praise thy fortune; but behoves thee To bear with firmness what the G.o.ds a.s.sign.
_Herc._ O that from Jove I had the pow'r to bring Back from the mansions of the dead thy wife To heav'n's fair light, that grace achieving for thee!
_Adm._ I know thy friendly will; but how can this Be done? The dead return not to this light.
_Herc._ Check then thy swelling griefs; with reason rule them.
_Adm._ How easy to advise, but hard to bear!
_Herc._ What should it profit should'st thou always groan?
_Adm._ I know it; but I am in love with grief.
_Herc._ Love to the dead calls forth the ceaseless tear.
_Adm._ O, I am wretched more than words can speak.
_Herc._ A good wife hast thou lost, who can gainsay it?
_Adm._ Never can life be pleasant to me more.
_Herc._ Thy sorrow now is new; time will abate it.
_Adm._ Time say'st thou? Yes, the time that brings me death.
_Herc._ Some young and lovely bride will bid it cease.