Chapter III

Helen that sister to the sons of Jove,
And Paris Ida’s swain,
With my curses still pursuing,
For to them I owe my ruin,
Me they from my country drove,
Never to return again,
By that detested spousal rite
On which Hymen never smiled,
No, ’twas some demon who with lewd delight
Their frantic souls beguiled:
Her may ocean’s waves no more
Waft to her paternal shore.

POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

POLYM. For thee, O Priam, my unhappy friend,
And you, my dearest Hecuba, I weep,
Beholding your distress, your city taken,
Your daughter newly slain: alas! there’s nought
To be relied on; fame is insecure,
Nor can the prosperous their enjoyments guard
Against a change of Fortune, for the gods
Backward and forward turn her wavering wheel,
And introduce confusion in the world,
That we, because we know not will happen,
May worship them. But of what use are plaints
Which have no virtue to remove our woes?
If you my absence censure, be appeased,
For in the midst of Thracia’s wide domains
I from these coasts was distant at the time
Of your arrival: soon as I returned,
When from the palace I was issuing forth,
This your attendant met me, and delivered
The message, hearing which, I hither came.

HEC. O Polymestor, wretched as I am,
I blush to see thy face; because thou erst
In happier days didst know me, I with shame
Appear before thee in my present fortunes.
Nor can I look at thee with steadfast eyes:
But this thou wilt not deem to be a mark
Of enmity: the cause of such behaviour
Is only custom, which forbids our sex
To gaze on men.

POLYM. No wonder you thus act
Under such circumstances. But what need
Have you of me, and wherefore did you send
To fetch me from the palace?

HEC. I in private
A secret of importance would disclose
To thee and to thy children. From these tents
Give orders for thy followers to depart.

POLYM. [_to his attendants, who retire_.]
Withdraw; this solitary spot is safe.
For you and the confederate Grecian host
Are all attached to me. But ’tis incumbent
On you t’ inform me what my prosperous fortunes
Can yield to succour my unhappy friends!
For this is what I wish to do.

HEC. Say first,
If he, my son, whom this maternal hand
And his fond father in thy mansions placed,
My Polydore, yet live. I’ll then pursue
My questions.

POLYM. Yes, in him you still are blest.

HEC. How kind, how worthy of thyself that speech,
My dearest friend!

POLYM. What farther would you know?

HEC. If haply yet the youth remember aught
Of me his mother.

POLYM. Much he wished to come
And visit you in private.

HEC. Is the gold
He brought from Troy preserved?

POLYM. I keep it safe
In my own palace.

HEC. Keep it if thou wilt:
But covet not the treasures of thy friends.

POLYM. I do not covet them; my utmost wish
Is to enjoy, O woman, what I have.

HEC. Know’st thou then, what to thee and to thy sons
I want to say?

POLYM. I know not; till in words
Your thoughts are signified.

HEC. Bestow such love
On Polydore as thou receiv’st from me.

POLYM. What is it that to me and to my children
You would disclose?

HEC. The spot, where deep in earth,
The ancient treasures of all Priam’s house
Lie buried.

POLYM. Is this secret what you wish
Should to your son be mentioned?

HEC. Yes, by thee,
Because thou art a virtuous man!

POLYM. But wherefore
Did you require these children should be present?

HEC. For them to know the secret, if thou die,
Will be of great advantage.

POLYM. You have spoken
Well and discreetly.

HEC. Know’st thou where at Troy
Minerva’s temple stands?

POLYM. Is the gold there?
But by what mark shall I the spot distinguish?

HEC. Above the surface rises a black stone.

POLYM. Will you describe the place yet more minutely?

HEC. The gold I in thy custody would place,
Which I from Ilion hither bring.

POLYM. Where is it?
Concealed beneath your garment?

HEC. ’Midst a heap
Of spoils laid up within yon tents.

POLYM. Where mean you?
These are the Grecian mariners’ abode.

HEC. In separate dwellings have they placed the captives?

POLYM. But how can we rely upon the faith
Of those within? doth no man thither come?

HEC. There’s not a Greek within; we are alone:
But enter thou these doors: for now the host,
Impatient to weigh anchor, would return
From Ilion to their homes. Thou with thy children
T’ accomplish all the dread behests of fate,
Shalt thither go where thou hast lodged my son.

[_Exeunt_ HECUBA _and_ POLYMESTOR.

CHOR. Thou hast not yet received the blow,
But justice sure will lay thee low.
Like him who headlong from on high
Falls where no friendly haven’s nigh,
Into the ocean’s stormy wave,
Here shalt thou find a certain grave:
For twofold ruin doth impend
O’er him who human laws pursue,
And righteous gods indignant view:
Thee shall the hope of gain mislead,
Which prompts thee to advance with speed,
And Pluto’s loathed abode descend:
Soon shalt thou press th’ ensanguined strand,
Slain by a woman’s feeble hand.

POLYM. [_within._] Ah me, the light that visited these eyes
is darkened.

SEMICHOR. Heard ye, O my friends, the shriek
Of yonder Thracian?

POLYM. [_within._] Yet again, alas,
My children’s foul and execrable murder!

SEMICHOR. My friends, some recent mischief hath within
Been perpetrated.

POLYM. [_within._] Though your feet are swift,
Ye shall not ’scape, for through the walls I’ll burst
My passage.

SEMICHOR. With a forceful hand, behold
He brandishes the javelin. Shall we rush
To seize him? This important crisis bids us
Assist our queen and Phrygia’s valiant dames.

HEC. Now do thy worst, and from their hinges rend
Yon massive gates; no more canst thou impart
To those lost eyes their visual orbs, nor see
Thy sons, whom I have slain, to life restored.

HECUBA, CHORUS.

CHOR. Hast thou, my honoured mistress, caught the Thracian,
Over this treacherous friend hast thou prevailed,
And all thy threats accomplished?

HEC. Ye shall see him
Before the tent, without delay, deprived
Of sight, advancing with unsteady foot,
And the two breathless corses of his sons,
Whom I, assisted by the noblest matrons
Of Troy, have slain. Th’ atonement he hath paid
To my revenge, is just. But now behold
He issues forth: I will retire and shun
The Thracian chief’s unconquerable rage.

POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

POLYM. Ah, whither am I going? wretched me!
Where am I? what supports me? With these hands
Groping my way like some four-footed beast,
How shall I turn me, to the right or left,
That I those murderous Phrygian dames may seize
Who have destroyed me? Impious and accurst
Daughters of Ilion, in what dark recess
Do they escape me? Would to heaven, O Sun,
Thou to these bleeding eyeballs could’st afford
A cure, that thou my blindness could’st remove.
But hush, I hear those women’s cautious tread.
How shall I leap upon them? with their flesh
How shall I glut my rage, and for a feast
To hungry tigers cast their mangled bones,
In just requital of the horrid wrongs,
Which I from them, ah wretched me, have suffered?
But whither, by what impulse am I borne,
Leaving the corses of my sons exposed
To hellish Bacchanalians, as they lie
Torn by the dogs, and on the mountain’s ridge
Cast forth unburied! Where shall I stand still?
Or whither shall I go? Like some proud bark
Towed into harbour, which contracts its sails;
I to that fatal chamber which contains
The corses of my murdered sons rush onward
With speed involuntary.

CHOR. Hapless man,
How art thou visited by woes too grievous
To be endured! but by dread Jove thy foe,
On him whose deeds are base, it is ordained
That the severest punishments await.

POLYM. Rouse, O ye Thracians, armed with ponderous spears,
Arrayed in mail, for generous steeds renowned,
A hardy race, whom Mars himself inspires.
To you, O Grecian troops, and both the sons
Of Atreus, I with clamorous voice appeal:
Come hither, I implore you by the gods.
Do any of you hear me? Is there none
Who will assist? Why loiter ye? Those women,
Those captives have destroyed me. Horrid wrongs
Have I endured; ah me, the foul reproach!
But whither shall I turn, or whither go?
Through the aërial regions shall I wing
My swift career to that sublime abode
Where Sirius or Orion from his eyes
Darts radiant flames? or, to perdition doomed,
Shall I descend to Pluto’s sable flood?

CHOR. He merits pardon, whosoe’er assailed
By ills too grievous to be borne, shakes off
The loathed encumbrance of a wretched life.

AGAMEMNON, POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

AGA. Hearing thy shrieks I came. For Echo, child
Of craggy mountains, in no gentle note
Wafted those sounds tumultuous through the host.
Had we not known that by the Grecian spear
The towers of vanquished Phrygia are o’erthrown,
Such uproar would have caused no small alarm.

POLYM. My dearest friend, soon as I heard your voice,
I instantly perceived ’twas Agamemnon.
See you my sufferings?

AGA. Wretched Polymestor!
Who hath destroyed thee? who bereaved of sight
Thy bleeding orbs, and those thy children slew?
Whoe’er the author of such deeds, his rage
Was dreadful sure ’gainst thee and ’gainst thy sons.

POLYM. With the assistance of those captive dames,
Me Hecuba hath murdered, more than murdered.

AGA. What mean’st thou? Are you guilty of the crime
With which he charges you? and have you dared
To perpetrate an action thus audacious?

POLYM. Ah me! what said you? Is she near at hand?
Inform me where to find, that I may seize her,
And scatter wide to all the fowls of heaven
Her mangled corse.

AGA. Ha! what is thy design?

POLYM. Allow me, I conjure you by the gods,
To grasp her with this frantic arm.

AGA. Desist,
And casting forth all rancour from thy heart,
Now plead thy cause; that, hearing both apart,
I with unbiassed justice may decide,
If thou these sufferings merit’st.

POLYM. I will speak.
There was one Polydore, the youngest son
Of those whom Hecuba to Priam bore;
Him erst removing from the Phrygian realm,
His sire to me consigned, that in my palace
He might be nurtured, when that hoary king
The fall of Troy suspected: him I slew:
But hear my motives for the deed, to prove
How justly and how prudently I acted.
Your enemy, that boy, if he survived
The ruin of his country, might, I feared,
Collect the scattered citizens of Troy,
And there again reside. I also feared,
That when the Greeks knew one of Priam’s line
Was living, with a second fleet invading
The shores of Phrygia, they again might drain
Of their inhabitants our Thracian fields,
Involving us, their neighbours, in the vengeance
They on their foes at Ilion wreak. To us
Already hath such neighbourhood, O king,
Proved baneful. But, apprized of her son’s fate,
Hecuba drew me hither, on pretence
She would inform me where in massive gold
The hidden treasures of old Priam’s race
Beneath Troy’s ruins were secured. Alone,
She with my children brought me to this tent,
That none beside might know. With bended knee,
While on a couch I sat, some on my left,
And others on my right, as with a friend,
Full many of the Trojan damsels took
Their places, holding up against the sun
My robe, the woof of an Edonian loom:
Some feigned t’ admire it, others viewed my spear,
And stripped me of them both. From hand to hand
The matrons, seeming to caress my children,
Removed them far from their unhappy sire:
And after their fond speeches, in an instant,
(Could you believe it?) snatching up the swords,
Which they beneath their garments had concealed,
They stabbed my sons, whom while I strove to aid,
In hostile guise their comrades held my arms
And feet: if I looked up, they by the hair
Confined me; if I moved my hands, my struggles
Proved ineffectual, through the numerous band
Of women who assailed me, and to close
The scene of my calamity, accomplished
A deed with more than common horror fraught,
For they tore out my bleeding eyes, and fled.
But, like a tiger starting up, I chased
These ruthless fiends, and with a hunter’s speed
Each wall examined, dashing to the ground,
And breaking what I seized. These cruel wrongs,
While I your interests study to maintain,
O Agamemnon, and despatch your foe,
Have I endured. To spare a long harangue,
The whole of what ’gainst woman hath been said
By those of ancient times, is saying now,
Or shall be said hereafter, in few words
Will I comprise; nor ocean’s waves, nor earth,
Nurture so vile a race, as he who most
Hath with the sex conversed, but knows too well.

CHOR. Curb that audacious virulence of speech,
Nor, by thy woes embittered, thus revile
All womankind; the number of our sex
Is great, and some there are, whom as a mark
To envy, their distinguished worth holds forth,
Though some are justly numbered with the wicked.

HEC. O Agamemnon, never ought the tongue
To have a greater influence o’er mankind
Than actions; but whoever hath done well,
Ought to speak well; and he, whose deeds are base,
To use unseemly language, nor find means
By specious words to colour o’er injustice.
Full wise indeed are they to whom such art
Is most familiar: but to stand the test
Of time not wise enough; for they all perish,
Not one of them e’er ’scapes. These previous thoughts
To you, O mighty king, have I addressed.
But now to him I turn, and will refute
The fallacies he uttered. What pretence
Hast thou for saying, that to free the Greeks
From such a second war, and for the sake
Of Agamemnon, thou didst slay my son?
For first, O villain, the barbarian race
With Greece, nor will, nor ever can be friends.
What interest roused thy zeal? Didst thou expect
To form a nuptial union? Wert thou moved
By kindred ties, or any secret cause?
Greece with a fleet forsooth would have returned
To lay thy country waste. Who, canst thou think,
Will credit such assertions? If the truth
Thou wilt confess, gold and thy thirst of gain
Were my son’s murderers. Why, when Troy yet flourished,
Why, when the city was on every side
Fenced by strong bulwarks, why, when Priam lived,
And Hector wielded a victorious spear,
Didst thou not, if thou hadst designed to act
In Agamemnon’s favour, at the time
When thou didst nurture my unhappy son,
And in thy palace shelter, either slay,
Or to the Greeks surrender up the youth
A living prisoner? But when Ilion’s light
Was utterly extinguished, when the smoke
Declared the city subject to our foes,
The stranger thou didst murder, at thy hearth
Who sought protection. To confirm thy guilt,
Now hear this farther charge: if thou to Greece
Hadst been a friend indeed, thou should’st have given
The gold thou say’st thou keep’st, not for thine own,
But Agamemnon’s sake, among the troops
Who suffer want, and from their native land
Have for a tedious season been detained.
But thou from those rapacious hands e’en now
Canst not endure to part with it, but hoard’st it
Still buried in thy coffers: as became thee,
Hadst thou trained up my son, hadst thou to him
Been a protector, great is the renown
Thou would’st have gained; for in distress the good
Are steadfast; but our prosperous fortunes swarm
With friends unbidden. Hadst thou been in want,
And Polydore abounded, a sure treasure
To thee would he have proved: but now no longer
In him hast thou a friend; thou of thy gold
Hast lost th’ enjoyment, thou thy sons hast lost,
And art thyself thus wretched. But to you,
O Agamemnon, now again I speak:
If you assist him, you will seem corrupt;
For you will benefit a man devoid
Of honour, justice, piety, or truth;
It might be said that you delight in evil;
But, I presume not to reproach my lords.

CHOR. How doth a virtuous cause inspire the tongue
With virtuous language!

AGA. On a stranger’s woes
Reluctant I pronounce, but am constrained;
For shame attends the man who takes in hand
Some great affair, and leaves it undecided.
Know then, to me thou seem’st not to have slain
Thy guest through an attachment to my cause,
Nor yet to that of Greece, but that his gold
Thou might’st retain: though in this wretched state
Thou speak to serve thy interests. Among you
Perhaps the murder of your guests seems light;
We Greeks esteem it base. If I acquit thee
How shall I ’scape reproach? Indeed I cannot:
Since thou hast dared to perpetrate the crime,
Endure the consequence.

POLYM. Too plain it seems,
Ah me! that, vanquished by a female slave,
Here shall I perish by ignoble hands.

HEC. Is not this just for the atrocious deed
Which thou hast wrought?

POLYM. My children, wretched me!
And these quenched orbs.

HEC. Griev’st thou, yet think’st thou not
That I lament my son?

POLYM. Malignant woman,
Do you rejoice in taunting my distress?

HEC. In such revenge have not I cause for joy?

POLYM. Yet not so hastily, when ocean’s wave——

HEC. Shall in a bark convey me to the shores
Of Greece?

POLYM. Shall whelm you in its vast abyss
Fall’n from the shrouds.

HEC. Raised thither by what impulse?

POLYM. Up the tall mast you with swift foot shall climb.

HEC. On feathered pinions borne, or how?

POLYM. With form
Canine endued, and eyeballs glaring fire.

HEC. Whence didst thou learn that I such wondrous change
Shall undergo?

POLYM. Bacchus, the Thracian seer,
Gave this response.

HEC. To thee did he unfold
Nought of the grievous sufferings thou endur’st?

POLYM. Then could you ne’er have caught me by your wiles.

HEC. But on this change of being, after death,
Or while I yet am living, shall I enter?

POLYM. After your death, and men shall call your tomb——

HEC. By my new form, or what is it thou mean’st?

POLYM. The sepulchre of that vile brute, an object
Conspicuous to the mariner.

HEC. I care not;
My vengeance is complete.

POLYM. Cassandra too,
Your daughter, must inevitably bleed.

HEC. Abomination! On thy guilty head
These curses I retort.

POLYM. Her shall the wife
Of Agamemnon slay, who sternly guards
His royal mansion.

HEC. Such a frantic deed
As this may Tyndarus’ daughter ne’er commit!

POLYM. She next uplifting the remorseless axe
Shall smite her lord.

AGA. Ha! madman, dost thou court
Thy ruin?

POLYM. Slay me; for the murderous bath
Awaits you, when to Argos you return.

AGA. Will ye not drag him from my sight by force?

POLYM. Hear you with grief what I announce?

AGA. My followers,
Why stop ye not the miscreant’s boding mouth?

POLYM. This mouth be closed for ever: I have spoken.

AGA. Will ye not cast him with the utmost speed
Upon some desert island, since he dares
To speak with such licentiousness? Depart,
O wretched Hecuba, and both those corses
Deposit in the grave. But, as for you,
Ye to your lord’s pavilions must repair,
O Phrygian dames: for I perceive the gales
Rising to waft us homeward; may success
Attend the voyage to our native land!
And in our mansions may we find all well,
Freed from these dangers!

CHOR. To the haven go,
And to the tents, my friends, t’ endure the toils
Our lords impose: for thus harsh fate enjoins.

HERCULES DISTRACTED.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

AMPHITRYON.
MEGARA.
CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.
HERCULES.
LYCUS.
IRIS.
A FIEND.
MESSENGER.
THESEUS.

SCENE.—BEFORE THE ALTAR OF JUPITER, AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE HOUSE OF HERCULES IN THEBES.

AMPHITRYON, MEGARA.

AMP. Is there on earth, a stranger to the man
Who shared the same auspicious nuptial bed
With Jove, Amphitryon born at Argos, sprung
From Perseus’ son Alcæus, me the sire
Of Hercules? He in these regions dwelt,
Where from the soil a helmed crop arose;
Mars, a small number of that race, preserved,
Whose children’s children people Cadmus’ city.
Hence Creon king of Thebes, Menæceus’ son,
Derives his birth, and Creon is the sire
Of this unhappy Megara, to grace
Whose hymeneal pomp, each Theban erst
Attuned the jocund lute, into my house
When Hercules conducted her. But leaving
This realm where I resided, and his consort
And kindred, my son chose to fix his seat
Within the walls of Argos, of that city
Erected by the Cyclops, whence I fled
Stained with Electryon’s gore: but to alleviate
My woes, and in his native land obtain
A quiet residence, this great reward
He on Eurystheus promised to bestow,
That he would rid the world of every pest:
Harassed by Juno’s stings, or envious fate,
With her conspiring: but, his other labours
Accomplished, he through Tænarus’ jaws at length
Went to the house of Pluto, to drag forth
Into the realms of day hell’s triple hound:
He thence returns not. But an old tradition
Among the race of Cadmus hath prevailed,
That Lycus, Dirce’s husband, erst bore rule
Over this city, till Jove’s sons, Amphion
And Zethus, who on milk-white coursers rode,
Became its sovereigns. Lycus’ son who bears
His father’s name, no Theban, but arriving
From the Eubœan state, slew royal Creon,
And having slain him, seized the throne, invading
The city with tumultuous broils convulsed.
But the affinity which we have formed
With Creon, seems to be my greatest curse:
For while my son stays in the realms beneath,
Lycus th’ egregious monarch of this land
Would with the children of Alcides kill
His consort, by fresh murders to extinguish
The past, and kill me too (if one through age
So useless may be numbered among men),
Lest when the boys attain maturer age,
They should avenge their grandsire Creon’s death.
But I (for my son left me here to tend
His children, and direct the house, since he
Entered the subterraneous realms of night),
With their afflicted mother, lest the race
Of Hercules should bleed, for an asylum
Have chosen this altar of protecting Jove,
Which my illustrious son for a memorial
Of his victorious arms did here erect,
When he in battle had subdued the Minyans.
But we, though destitute of every comfort,
Of food, drink, clothing, though constrained to lie
On the bare pavement, here maintain our seat,
For every hospitable door is barred
Against us, and we have no other hope
Of being saved. Some of our friends I see
Are faithless, and the few who prove sincere,
Too weak to aid us. Such is the effect
Of adverse fortune o’er the race of men;
May he to whom I bear the least attachment,
Never experience that unerring test
Of friendship.

MEG. Thou old man, who erst didst storm
The Taphian ramparts, when thou with renown
Didst lead the host of Thebes; the secret will
Of Heaven, how little can frail mortals know!
For to me too of no avail have proved
The fortunes of my father, who elate
With wealth and regal power (whence at the breasts
Of its possessors spears are hurled by those
Whose souls the lust of mad ambition fires),
And having children, gave me to thy son,
Joining a noble consort in the bonds
Of wedlock with Alcides, through whose death
These blessings are all fled. Now I, and thou,
Old man, are doomed to perish with the sons
Of Hercules, whom, as the bird extends
Her sheltering wings over her callow brood,
I guard. By turns they come and question me:
“O mother, whither is my father gone?
What is he doing? when will he return?”
Though now too young sufficiently to feel
How great their loss, thus ask they for their sire.
I change the theme, and forge a soothing tale,
But am with wonder smitten when the doors
Creak on their massive hinges, and at once
They all start up, that at their father’s knees
They may fall prostrate. But what hope hast thou
Of saving us, or what support, old man?
For I to thee look up. We from the bounds
Of these domains unnoticed cannot ’scape;
Mightier than us, a watchful guard is placed
At every avenue, and in our friends
No longer for protection can we trust.
Explain thyself, if thou hast any scheme,
By which thou from impending death canst save us;
But let us strive to lengthen out the time,
Since we are feeble.

AMP. ’Tis no easy task
In such a situation, O my daughter,
To form a sure and instantaneous judgment.

MEG. What is there wanting to complete thy woes,
Or why art thou so fond of life?

AMP. That blessing
I still enjoy, still cherish pleasing hopes.

MEG. I also hope, old man: but it is folly
To look for what we never can attain.

AMP. We by delaying might avert our fate.

MEG. But I in this sad interval of time
Feel piercing anguish.

AMP. The auspicious gales
Of fortune, O my daughter, yet may waft
Both you and me out of our present troubles,
If e’er my son your valiant lord return.
But O be pacified yourself, and cause
Your children to dry up their streaming tears;
With gentle language and delusive tales
Beguile them, though all fraudful arts are wretched.
For the disasters which afflict mankind
Are wearied out; the stormy winds retain not
Their undiminished force; nor are the blest
Perpetually blest: for all things change,
And widely differ from their former state.
The valiant man is he who still holds fast
His hopes; but to despair bespeaks the coward.

CHORUS, AMPHITRYON, MEGARA.

CHOR. Propped on my faithful staff, from home,
And from the couch of palsied age,
In melancholy guise I roam,
Constrained to chaunt funereal strains,
As the expiring swan complains,
A war of words alone I wage,
In semblance, but a flitting sprite,
An airy vision of the night.
I totter; yet doth active zeal
This faithful bosom still inspire.
Ye children who have lost your sire,
Thou veteran, and thou aged dame,
Doomed for thy lord these griefs to feel,
Whose Pluto’s dreary mansions claim;
O weary not your tender feet.
Like steeds by galling harness bound,
To turn the ponderous mill around,
I would advance my friends to meet,
Yet are my utmost efforts vain,
This shattered frame I scarce sustain:
Draw near, O take this trembling hand,
And holding fast my robe, support
My steps, thy needful aid I court,
Because I am too weak to stand.
Lead on the chief, though now by years
Bowed down, who marshalled on the strand,
His comrades erst a hardy band;
With him in youth we launched our spears,
Nor then belied our native land.
See how their eyes dart liquid fire,
Those children emulate their sire;
But still hereditary fate,
Pursues with unrelenting hate
Their tender years, nor can their charms
Redeem them from impending harms.
What valiant champions of thy cause,
O Greece, thy violated laws,
When these thy great supports shall fail,
Torn from thy fostering land wilt thou bewail.
But I behold the monarch of the realm,
Tyrannic Lycus, who these doors approaches.

LYCUS, AMPHITRYON, MEGARA, CHORUS.

LYC. This question (if I may) I to the sire
And consort of Alcides would propose
(But, as your king, I have a right to make
Any inquiries I think fit): How long
Seek ye to spin out life? What farther hope
Have ye in view, what succour to ward off
The stroke of death? Expect ye that the father
Of these deserted children, who lies stretched
Amid the realms beneath will thence return,
That ye bely your rank, and meanly utter
These clamorous plaints on being doomed to die?
Through Greece hast _thou_ diffused an idle boast,
That Jove enjoyed thy consort, and begot
An offspring like himself; while _you_ exulted
In being called wife to the first of heroes.
But what great action hath your lord performed,
In having slain that hydra at the lake,
Or the Nemæan lion whom with snares
He caught, and then did arrogantly boast
That he had strangled in his nervous arms?
Will these exploits enable you to vie
With me? and for such merit am I bound
To spare the sons of Hercules, who gained
A name which he deserved not? He was brave
In waging war with beasts, in nought beside,
With his left hand he never did sustain
The shield, nor faced he the protended spear,
But with his bow, that weapon of a dastard,
Was still prepared for flight: such arms afford
No proof of courage; but the truly brave
Is he who in the ranks where he is stationed
Maintains his ground, and sees with steadfast eye
Those ghastly wounds the missile javelin gives.
Old man, I act not thus through cruelty,
But caution; for I know that I have slain
Creon _her_ father, and possess his throne.
These children therefore will not I allow
To live till they attain maturer years,
Lest they should punish me for such a deed.

AMP. Jove will assert the cause of his own son.
But as for me, O Hercules, my care
Shall be to prove the folly of this tyrant:
For thy illustrious name I will not suffer
To be reproached. First from a hateful charge
(And that of cowardice I deem most hateful),
Calling the gods to witness, am I bound
To vindicate thy honour. I appeal
To Jove’s own thunder, and th’ impetuous steeds,
Which drew Alcides’ chariot when he sped
Those winged arrows to transpierce the flanks
Of earth-born giants, and among the gods
Triumphant revelled at the genial board.
Go next to Pholoe’s realm, thou worst of kings,
And ask the Centaurs’ monstrous brood, what man
They judge to be most brave, whether that title
Belongs not to my son, who only bears,
As you assert, the semblance of a hero?
But should you question the Eubœan mount
Of Dirphys, where your infancy was nurtured,
It cannot sound your praise: you have performed
No glorious action for your native land
To testify, yet scorn that wise invention
The quiver fraught with shafts: attend to me
And I will teach you wisdom. By his arms
Encumbered, stands the warrior who is sheathed
In ponderous mail, and through the fears of those
Who fight in the same rank, if they want courage,
Loses his life; nor, if his spear be broken,
Furnished with nought but courage, from his breast
Can he repel the wound; but he who bends
With skilful hand the bow, hath this advantage,
Which never fails him: with a thousand shafts
He smites the foe, no danger to himself
Incurring, but securely stands aloof,
And wreaks his vengeance while they gaze around,
Without perceiving whence the weapon comes:
His person he exposes not, but takes
A guarded post: for what in war displays
The greatest prudence, is to vex the foe,
Nor rush at random on their pointed spears.
Such reasoning on the subject in debate
With yours indeed agrees not: but what cause
Have you for wishing to destroy these children?
How have they injured you? In one respect
I deem you wise, because you dread the race
Of valiant men, and feel yourself a coward:
Yet is it hard on us, if we must bleed
Your apprehensions to remove; you ought
To suffer all we would inflict, from us
Whose merit is superior far to yours,
Were Jove impartial. Would you therefore wield
The sceptre of this land, let us depart
As exiles from the realm, or you shall meet
With strict retaliation, when the gales
Of wavering fortune alter. O thou land
Of Cadmus (for to thee I now will speak,
But in reproachful accents), such protection
Afford’st thou to the sons of Hercules,
Who singly warring with the numerous host
Of Minyæ, caused the Thebans to lift up
Their free-born eyes undaunted? I on Greece
No praises can bestow, nor will pass over
In silence its base treatment of my son,
For ’twas its duty in these children’s cause,
Bearing flames, pointed spears, and glittering mail,
To have marched forth, and recompensed the toils
Of their great father, who hath purged the sea
And land from all its monsters. Such protection
Nor doth the Theban city, O my children,
Nor Greece afford you; but ye now look up
To me a feeble friend who can do nought,
But plead for you with unavailing words.
For all the vigour which I once possessed
Hath now deserted me; old age assails
My trembling limbs and this decrepit frame.
Were I again endued with youthful strength,
I would snatch up my javelin, and defile
With gore the yellow ringlets on the head
Of that oppressor, whom his fear should drive
Beyond the most remote Atlantic bounds.

CHOR. Are there not causes such as may provoke
Those who are virtuous to express their thoughts,
Though destitute of eloquence?

LYC. ’Gainst me
Speak what thou wilt, for thou art armed with words,
But for injurious language by my deeds
Will I requite thee. Go, send woodmen, some
To Helicon, some to Parnassus’ vale,
Bid them fell knotted oaks, and having borne them
Into the city, heap their ponderous trunks
Around the altar, and with kindled flames
Consume the bodies of this hated race;
So shall they learn that Creon the deceased
No longer is the ruler of this land,
But that I wield the sceptre. As for you
Who thwart my counsels, O ye aged men,
Not for the sons of Hercules alone
Shall ye lament, but for those evil fortunes
Which ye and your own house are doomed to suffer:
But this shall ye remember, that to me,
Your monarch, ye are slaves.

CHOR. O ye the race
Of earth, whom Mars erst sowed, when he had torn
From the huge dragon’s jaws th’ envenomed teeth,
With those right hands why will ye not uplift
The staves on which ye lean, and with his gore
Defile the head of this unrighteous man,
Not born at Thebes, but in a foreign realm,
From inconsiderate youths who gains that homage
Which he deserves not? but in evil hour
O’er me shalt thou bear rule, nor shall my wealth
Acquired by many toils be ever thine:
Go, act the tyrant in Eubœa’s land,
From whence thou hither cam’st: for while I live,
The sons of Hercules thou ne’er shalt slay,
Nor is their mighty father plunged so deep
Beneath earth’s surface, that he cannot hear
His children’s outcries. Thou to whom this land
Owes its destruction dost possess the throne:
But he its benefactor is deprived
Of the rewards he merits. Me thou deem’st
Officious, for protecting those I love
E’en in the grave, where friends are needed most.
O my right arm, how dost thou wish to wield
The spear, but through enfeebling age hast lost
Thy vigour: else would I have quelled thy pride
Who dar’st to call me slave, and in this Thebes,
Where thou exult’st, with glory dwelt. A city
Diseased through mutiny and evil counsels
Is void of wisdom, or would ne’er have chosen
Thee for its lord.

MEG. Ye veterans, I applaud
Your zeal; for indignation at the wrongs
His friends endure becomes the virtuous friend.
But let not anger ’gainst your lord expose you
To suffer in our cause. My judgment hear,
Amphitryon, if to thee in aught I seem
To speak discreetly. I these children love
(And how can I help loving those I bore?)
For whom I have endured the painful throes
Of childbirth. And to die is what I think of
As of a thing most dreadful; but the man
Who with necessity contends I hold
An idiot. But let us, since die we must,
Not perish in the flames to furnish scope
Of laughter to our foes, which I esteem
An ill beyond e’en death: for much is due
To the unsullied honour of our house,
For thee who erst in arms hast gained renown,
To die with cowardice, were a reproach
Not to be borne. My lord, though I forbear
To dwell on his just praises, is so noble,
He would not wish these children saved, to bear
The imputation of an evil name:
For through the conduct of degenerate sons
Reproach oft falls on their illustrious sires;
And the examples which my husband gave me,
I ought not to reject. But view what grounds
Thou hast for hope, that I of these may form
A proper estimate. Dost thou expect
Thy son to issue from the realms beneath?
What chief deceased from Pluto’s loathed abode
Did e’er return? Can we by gentle words
Appease this tyrant? No: we ought to fly
From fools who are our foes: but to the wise
And generous yield; for we with greater ease
May make a friend of him in whom we find
A sense of virtuous shame. But to my soul
This thought occurs, that we, the children’s sentence,
By our entreaties, haply might obtain
Converted into exile: yet this too
Is wretched, at th’ expense of piteous need
To compass our deliverance. For their friends
Avoid the face of guests like these, and look
No longer kindly on the banished man
After one day is over. Rouse thy courage,
And bleed with us, thee too, since death awaits.
By thy great soul, O veteran, I conjure thee.
Although the man who labours to repel
Evils inflicted by Heaven’s wrath, is brave,
Yet doth such courage border upon frenzy:
For what the fates ordain, no god can frustrate.

CHOR. While yet these arms retained their youthful strength,
Had any one insulted thee, with ease
Could I have quelled him; but I now am nothing:
On thee, Amphytrion, therefore ’tis incumbent
To think how best thou may’st henceforth ward off
Th’ assaults of fortune.

AMP. No unmanly fear,
No wish to lengthen out this life, prevents
My voluntary death: but I would save
The children of my son, though I appear
To grasp at things impossible. Behold
I bare my bosom to the sword; pierce, slay,
Or cast me from the rock. But I, O king,
For this one favour sue to you; despatch
Me and this hapless dame before the children,
Lest them we view, most execrable sight,
In death’s convulsive pangs, to her who bore them,
And me their grandsire, shrieking out for aid.
But as for all beside, do what you list,
For we have now no bulwark which from death
Can save us.

MEG. I entreat one favour more,
Which to us both will equally be grateful.
Permit me in funereal robes to dress
My children; for that purpose be the gates
Thrown open (for the palace now is closed
Against us) that they from their father’s house
This small advantage may obtain.

LYC. Your wishes
Shall be complied with. I my servants bid
Unbar the gates. Go in, bedeck yourselves;
The costly robes I grudge not: but no sooner
Shall ye have put them on, than I to you
Will come, and plunge you in the shades beneath.

[_Exit_ LYCUS.

MEG. Follow your hapless mother, O my children,
To your paternal house, where, though our wealth
Be in the hands of others, our great name
We still preserve.

AMP. O Jove, ’twas then in vain
That thou didst deign to share my nuptial couch,
In vain too, of thy son have I been styled
The father, for thou hast not proved the friend
Thou didst appear to be. I, though a man,
Exceed in virtue thee a mighty god;
Because I to their foes have not betrayed
The sons of Hercules: but thou, by stealth,
Entering my chamber, to another’s wife
Without permission cam’st; yet know’st not how
To save thy friends; thou surely art a god
Either devoid of wisdom, or unjust.

[_Exeunt_ AMPHITRYON _and_ MEGARA.

CHORUS.

ODE.

I. 1.

For Linus’ death, by all the tuneful Nine
Bewailed, doth Phœbus’ self complain,
And loudly uttering his auspicious strain,
Smite with a golden quill the lyre; but mine
Shall be the task, while songs of praise
I chaunt and twine the laureate wreath,
His matchless fortitude t’ emblaze,
Who sought hell’s inmost gloom, the dreary shades beneath;
Whether I call the hero son of Jove,
Or of Amphitryon; for the fame
To which his labours have so just a claim,
Must e’en in death attract the public love:
In the Nemæan forest first he slew
That lion huge, whose tawny hide
And grinning jaws extended wide,
He o’er his shoulders threw.

I. 2.

The winged arrows whizzing from his bow,
Did on their native hills confound
The Centaurs’ race with many a deadly wound:
Alcides’ matchless strength doth Peneus know,
Distinguished by his limpid waves,
The fields laid waste of wide extent,
With Pelion, and the neighbouring caves
Of Homoles, uprooting from whose steep ascent,
Tall pines that cast a venerable shade,
The monsters armed their forceful hands,
And strode terrific o’er Thessalia’s lands:
Then breathless on th’ ensanguined plain he laid
That hind distinguished by her golden horns,
And still in Dian’s temple seen
His prize, to glad the huntress queen,
Oenöe’s walls adorns.

II. 1.

The chariot with triumphal ensigns graced
Ascending, to his stronger yoke
He Diomedes’ furious coursers broke,
Scorning the bit, in hateful stalls who placed
By their fell lord, the flesh of man
Raging devoured, accursed food;
A stream from their foul mangers ran,
Filled with unholy gore, and many a gobbet crude.
O’er Hebrus’ silver tide at the command
Of Argos’ unrelenting king
Eurystheus, he these captive steeds did bring,
Close to Anauros’ mouth on Pelion’s strand.
Inhuman Cycnus, son of Mars, next felt
The force of his resounding bow,
Unsocial wretch, the stranger’s foe,
Who in Amphanea dwelt.

II. 2.

Then came he to th’ harmonious nymphs, that band
Who in Hesperian gardens hold
Their station, where the vegetative gold
Glows in the fruitage; with resistless hand
To snatch the apple from its height;
The dragon wreathed his folds around
The tree’s huge trunk, portentous sight,
In vain; that monster fell transfixed with many a wound.
Into those straits of the unfathomed main
He entered, with auspicious gales,
Where feared the mariner t’ unfurl his sails,
And fixing limits to the watery plain
His columns reared: then from the heavens’ huge load
The wearied Atlas he relieved,
His arm the starry realms upheaved,
And propped the gods’ abode.

III. 1.

Foe to the Amazons’ equestrian race
He crossed the boisterous Euxine tide,
And gave them battle by Mæotis’ side.
What friends through Greece collected he to face
Hippolita, th’ intrepid maid,
That he the belt of Mars might gain,
And tissued robe with golden braid.
Still doth exulting Greece the virgin’s spoils retain,
Lodged in Mycene’s shrine, with gore imbrued,
The dog of Lerna’s marshy plain,
Who unresisting multitudes had slain,
The hundred-headed hydra, he subdued,
Aided by fire, and winged shafts combined,
These from his well-stored quiver flew,
And triple-formed Geryon slew,
Fierce Erythræa’s hind.

III. 2.

But having finished each adventurous strife,
At length in evil hour he steers
To Pluto’s mansion, to the house of tears,
The goal of labour, there to end his life,
Thence never, never to return;
His friends dismayed forsake these gates,
In hopeless solitude we mourn.
Hell’s stern award is passed, the boat of Charon waits
To their eternal home his sons to bear,
Most impious lawless homicide!
For thee, O Hercules, thee erst his pride,
Thy sire now looks with impotent despair.
Had I the strength which I possessed of yore,
I with my Theban friends, arrayed
In brazen arms, thy sons would aid:
But youth’s blest days are o’er.

Clad in funereal vestments I behold
The children of Alcides erst the great,
With his loved wife and his decrepit sire
Conducting them. O wretched me! no longer
Can I restrain the fountain of these tears
Which gush incessant from my aged eyes.

MEGARA, AMPHITRYON, CHORUS.

MEG. Come on. What priest, what butcher is at hand
To slay these wretched children, or transpierce
My bosom? Now the victims stand prepared
For their descent to Pluto’s loathed abode.
By force, my children, are we borne along
United in th’ unseemly bands of death;
Decrepit age with helpless infancy
And intermingled matrons. O dire fate
Of me and of my sons, whom these sad eyes
Shall never more behold! Alas! I bore,
I nurtured you, to be the scorn, the sport,
Of our inveterate foes, and by their hands
To perish. Each fond hope, which from the words
Of your departed father erst I formed,
Hath proved fallacious. The deceased to _thee_
Allotted Argos, in Eurystheus’ palace
Wert _thou_ to dwell a mighty king, and wield
The sceptre of Pelasgia’s fruitful land,
Then with the lion’s hide himself had worn
Thy front he covered: _you_ were to ascend
The throne of Thebes for brazen chariots famed,
Possessing my hereditary fields,
Such were the hopes of your exulting sire,
Who to _your_ hand consigned that ponderous mace
Deceitful gift of Dædalus: on _thee_,
Thou little one, he promised to bestow
Oecalia, which his shafts had erst laid waste:
To you all three, these realms in threefold portions
Did he distribute; for your father’s views
Were all magnanimous: but I marked out
Selected consorts for you, and formed schemes
Of new affinities, from the domains
Of Athens, Sparta, and the Theban city;
That binding up your cables, and secure
From the tempestuous deep, ye might enjoy
A happy life: these prospects now are vanished:
For to your arms hath changeful Fortune given
The Destinies to be your brides, while tears
Are your unhappy mother’s lustral drops.
Your grandsire celebrates the nuptial feast,
O’er which he summons Pluto to preside,
The father of your consorts. But, alas!
Whom first of you my children, or whom last
To this fond bosom shall I clasp, on whom
Bestow a kiss, whom in my arms sustain?
How like the bee with variegated wings
Shall I collect the sorrows of you all,
And blend the whole together in a flood
Of tears exhaustless? O my dearest lord,
If any of those spirits who reside
In Pluto’s realms beneath, can hear the voice
Of mortals, in these words to thee I speak:
O Hercules, thy father and thy sons
Are doomed to bleed; I perish too who erst
On thy account was by the world called happy.
Protect us, come, and to these eyes appear,
Though but a ghost; thy presence will suffice:
For these thy children’s murderers, when with thee
Compared, are dastards.

AMP. To appease the powers
Of hell beneath, O woman, be thy care.
But lifting to the skies my suppliant hands,
I call on thee, O Jove, that, if thou mean
To be a friend to these deserted children,
Thou interpose without delay and save them,
For soon ’twill be no longer in thy power:
Thou oft hast been invoked; but all my prayers
Are ineffectual; die, it seems, we must.
But, O ye aged men, the bliss which life
Can yield is small, contrive then how to pass
As sweetly as is possible the hours
Which fate allots you, e’en from morn till night
Shaking off every grief: for Time preserves not
Our hopes entire, but on his own pursuits
Intent, deserts us, borne on rapid wings.
Look but on me, amid the sons of men
Conspicuous erst performing glorious deeds;
And yet hath Fortune in one single day
Taken all from me, like a feather wafted
Into the trackless air. I know not him
To whom collected stores of wealth or fame
Are durable. Farewell, for this, my comrades,
Is the last time ye shall behold your friend.

HERCULES, MEGARA, AMPHITRYON, CHORUS.

MEG. Ha! O thou aged man, do I behold
My dearest husband? How shall I find utterance?

AMP. I know not, O my daughter; for I too
Am with amazement seized.

MEG. This sure is he
Who as we heard was in the realms beneath;
Else doth some vision in the noontide glare
Delude our senses. But what frantic words
Were those I spoke as if ’twas all a dream?
This is no other than thy real son,
Thou aged man. Come hither, O my children,
Cling to your father’s robe, with speed advance,
Quit not your hold, for ye in him shall find
An equal to our great protector Jove.

HER. All hail, thou mansion, and thou vestibule
Of my abode; thee with what joy once more
Do I behold, revisiting the light.
Ha! what hath happened? I my children see
With garlands on their temples, and my wife
Amidst a throng of men, my father too
Weeping for some mischance. I’ll go to them,
And ask the cause. What recent ill, O woman,
Hath happened to this house?

MEG. My dearest lord,
O thou who to thy aged father com’st
A radiant light, in safety hast thou reached,
At this important crisis, the abodes
Of those thou lov’st.

HER. What mean you by these words?
What tumults, O my sire, are we involved in?

MEG. We are undone; but, O thou aged man,
Forgive, if I’ve anticipated that
Thou would’st have said to him: for in some points
Our sex are greater objects of compassion
Than males. I deem my children dead; I too
Am perishing.

HER. O Phœbus! with what preludes
Do you begin your speech?

MEG. My valiant brothers,
And aged sire, alas! are now no more.

HER. Who slew them, how, or with what weapon?

MEG. Lycus,
The monarch of this city, was their murderer.

HER. With arms did he oppose them, or prevail,
When foul sedition through the land diffused
Its pestilent contagion?

MEG. By revolt
He holds the sceptre of the Theban realm.

HER. But wherefore hath this sudden panic reached
You and my aged sire?

MEG. He would have slain
Thy father, me, and these defenceless children.

HER. What mean you? could he fear my orphan race?

MEG. Lest they hereafter might avenge the death
Of Creon.

HER. But what garb is this they wear,
Which suits some corse?

MEG. Already in these vestments
For our funereal rites are we arrayed.

HER. And were ye on the point of perishing
By violence? Ah me!

MEG. Our friends desert us;
For we have heard that thou wert dead.

HER. Whence rose
This comfortless depression of the soul?

MEG. Eurystheus’ heralds the sad tidings bore.

HER. But for what cause did ye forsake my house,
My sacred Lares?

MEG. From his bed thy sire
Was forcibly dragged forth.

HER. So void of shame
Was Lycus as to treat his age with scorn?

MEG. Shame dwells not near the shrine of brutal force.

HER. Were we thus destitute of friends when absent?

MEG. What friends abide with him who is unhappy?

HER. But did they scorn the battles which I fought
Against the Minyans?

MEG. I to thee repeat it,
Calamity is friendless and forlorn.

HER. Will ye not cast from your dishevelled hair
These wreaths of Pluto? will ye not look up
To yon bright sun, and ope your eyes to view
Scenes far more pleasing than the loathsome shades
Of hell beneath? But I, for wrongs like these
Demand my vengeful arm, with speed will go
And overturn the house of that new king,
His impious head I to the ravenous hounds
Lopped from his trunk will cast, and each base Theban
Who with ingratitude repays my kindness
With this victorious weapon smite: my shafts
The rest shall scatter, till Ismenos’ channel
Be choked up with the corses of the slain,
And Dirce’s limpid fountain stream with gore.
For whom, in preference to my wife, my children,
And aged father, shall I aid? Farewell,
Ye labours which unwittingly I strove
T’ accomplish, mindless of these dearest pledges;
In their defence I equally am bound
To yield up life, if for their father they
Were doomed to bleed. What! shall we call it noble
To war against the hydra or the lion,
And execute the mandates of Eurystheus,
If I avert not my own children’s death?
No longer else shall I, as erst, be styled
Alcides the victorious.

CHOR. It is just
Parents should aid their sons, their aged sire,
And the dear partner of the nuptial bed.

AMP. My son, this mighty privilege is yours,
To be the best of friends to those you love,
And a determined foe to those you hate.
But be not too impetuous.

HER. In what instance
Have I been hastier, O my honoured sire,
Than it becomes me?

AMP. To support his cause,
The king hath many, who in fact are poor,
Though fame accounts them rich; they raised a tumult,
And caused the ruin of the state, to plunder
Their neighbours; for the fortunes they possessed
Are through their own extravagance and sloth
Reduced to nothing. As the gates you entered,
These could not fail to see you: O beware
Lest since you by your foes have been perceived,
You perish when you least foresee your danger,
Oppressed by numbers.

HER. Though all Thebes beheld me,
I care not. But when I descried a bird
Of evil omen perched aloof, I knew
That there had some calamity befallen
My house, and therefore with presaging soul
In secrecy I entered these domains.

AMP. Draw near with pious awe, my son, salute
The Lares, and display that welcome face
In your paternal mansions. For to drag
Your wife and children forth, with me your sire
To murder us, the king himself will come.
But all will prosper, if you here remain,
And a secure asylum will you find,
Nor through the city spread a loud alarm
Ere your designs succeed.

HER. Thus will I act,
For thou hast rightly spoken; I am entering
The palace. From the sunless caves beneath
Of Proserpine, after a long delay
Returning, first to our domestic gods
Will I be mindful to address my vows.

AMP. Have you indeed then visited the house
Of Pluto, O my son?

HER. And thence the dog
With triple-head brought to these realms of light.

AMP. Conquered in battle, or on you bestowed
By hell’s indulgent goddess?

HER. I prevailed
O’er him in combat, and have been so happy
As to behold the far-famed mystic orgies.

AMP. But is the beast lodged in Eurystheus’ palace?

HER. Him Cthonia’s groves and Hermion’s walls
confine.

AMP. Knows not Eurystheus that you are returned
Into this upper world?

HER. He doth not know:
For I came first to learn what passes here.

AMP. But wherefore in the realms beneath, so long
Did you remain?

HER. I there prolonged may stay,
My sire, to bring back Theseus from the shades.

AMP. And where is he, gone to his native land?

HER. He went to Athens, pleased with his escape
From the infernal regions. But attend
Your father to the palace, O my sons,
Which now ye enter in a happier state
Than when ye left it: but take courage, cease
To pour forth floods of tears; and, O my wife,
Collect thyself, let all thy terrors cease,
And loose my garments; for I have not wings,
Nor would I vanish from my friends. Alas!
Their hold they quit not, but cling faster still,
And faster to my vest. Because ye stand
Upon the verge of ruin, I will take
And bear you hence, as by the ship light boats
Are guided o’er the deep: for I refuse not
The care my children claim. Here all mankind
Are on a level, they of nobler rank
And mean condition, to their progeny
Bear equal love. The gifts of fortune vary,
Some have abundant wealth, and some are poor;
But the whole human race feels this attachment.

[_Exeunt_ HERCULES _and_ MEGARA, _with the children_.

CHORUS.

ODE.