Heracles

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 537 sections

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Where is he? gone to his native land?
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He set out for Athens, glad to have escaped from the lower world. Come now, children, attend your father to the house. My entering in is fairer in your eyes, I think, than my going out. Oh, take heart,
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and no more let the tears stream from your eyes; you too, my wife, collect your courage, cease from fear; leave go my robe; for I cannot fly away, nor have I any wish to flee from those I love. Ah! they do not loose their hold, but cling to my garments
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all the more; were you on the razor’s edge of danger? Well, I must lead them, taking them by the hand to draw them after me, my little boats, like a ship when towing; for I too do not reject the care of my children; here all mankind are equal; all love their children, both those of high estate
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and those who are nothing; it is wealth that makes distinctions among them; some have, others want; but all the human race loves its offspring.
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Dear to me is youth always, but old age is hanging over my head, a burden heavier
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than Aetna’s crags, casting its pall of gloom upon my eyes. Oh! never may the wealth of Asia’s kings tempt me
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to barter for houses stored with gold my happy youth, which is in wealth and poverty alike most fair! But old age is gloomy and deadly;
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I hate it; let it sink beneath the waves! Would it had never found its way to the homes and towns of mortal men, but were still drifting on for ever down the wind.
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Had the gods shown discernment and wisdom, as mortals count these things, men would have won youth twice over, a visible mark of worth
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among whomever found, and after death these would have run a double course once more to the sun-light, while the low born would have had a single portion of life;
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and thus would it have been possible to distinguish the good and the bad, just as sailors know the number of the stars amid the clouds. But, as it is, the gods have set no certain boundary
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between good and bad, but time’s onward roll brings increase only to man’s wealth.
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Never will I cease to link in one the Graces and the Muses,
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sweetest union. Never may I live among uneducated boors, but ever may I find a place among the crowned!
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Yes, still the aged singer lifts up his voice of bygone memories: still is my song of the triumphs of Heracles, whether Bromius the giver of wine is near, or the strains of the seven-stringed lyre and the Libyan pipe are rising;
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not yet will I cease to sing the Muses’ praise, my patrons in the dance.
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The maids of Delos raise their song of joy, circling round the temple gates in honor of Leto’s fair son,
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the graceful dancer; so I with my old lips will cry aloud songs of joy at your palace-doors, like the swan, aged singer; for there is a good
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theme for minstrelsy; he is the son of Zeus; yet high above his noble birth tower his deeds of prowess, for his toil secured this life of calm for man,
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having destroyed all fearsome beasts.
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Amphitryon, it is high time you came forth from the palace; you have been too long arraying yourselves in the robes and trappings of the dead. Come, bid the wife and children of Heracles
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show themselves outside the house, to die on the conditions you yourselves offered.
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Lord, you persecute me in my misery and heap insult upon me over and above the loss of my son; you should have been more moderate in your zeal, though you are my lord and master.
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But since you impose death’s necessity on me, I must acquiesce; what you wish must be done.
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Now, where is Megara? where are the children of Alcmena’s son?
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She, I believe, so far as I can guess from outside—
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What grounds do you have to base your fancy on?
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Is sitting as a suppliant on the altar’s hallowed steps—
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Imploring them quite uselessly to save her life.
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And calling on her dead husband, in vain.
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He is nowhere near, and he certainly will never come.
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No, unless perhaps a god should raise him from the dead.
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Go to her and bring her from the palace.
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By doing so I should become an accomplice in her murder.
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Since you have this scruple, I, who have left fear behind, will myself bring out the mother and her children. Follow me, servants,
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that we may joyfully put an end to this delay of our work.
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Then go your way along the path of fate; for what remains, maybe another will provide. Expect for your evil deeds to find some trouble yourself. Ah! my aged friends, he is marching fairly to his doom; soon will he lie entangled in the snare
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of the sword, thinking to slay his neighbors, the villain! I will go, to see him fall dead; for the sight of a foe being slain and paying the penalty of his misdeeds affords pleasurable feelings.
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Evil has changed sides; he who was once a mighty king is now turning his life backward into the road to Hades. Hail to you! Justice and heavenly retribution.
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At last have you reached the goal where your death will pay the penalty, for your insults against your betters.
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Joy makes my tears burst forth. He has come back—
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which I never once thought in my heart would happen—the prince of the land.
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Come, old friends, let us look within to see if someone has met the fate I hope.
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Ah me! ah me!
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Ha! how sweet to hear that opening note of his within the house; death is not far off him now. The prince cries out, wailing a prelude of death.
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O kingdom of Cadmus, I am perishing by treachery!
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You were yourself for making others perish; endure your retribution; it is only the penalty of your own deeds you are paying.
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Who was he, only a mortal, that aimed his silly saying at the blessed gods of heaven with impious blasphemy, maintaining that they are weaklings after all?
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Old friends, our godless foe is now no more.
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The house is still; let us turn to the dance.
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Yes, for fortune smiles upon my friends as I desire.
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Dances, dances and banquets now prevail throughout the holy town of Thebes.
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For change from tears, change from sorrow give birth to song. The new king is gone; our former monarch
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rules, having made his way even from the harbor of Acheron. Hope beyond all expectation is fulfilled.
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The gods, the gods take care to heed the right and wrong. It is their gold and their good luck
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that lead men’s hearts astray, bringing in their train unjust power. For no man ever had the courage to reflect what reverses Time might bring; but, disregarding law to gratify lawlessness, he shatters
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the black chariot of prosperity.
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O Ismenus, deck yourself with garlands! Break forth into dancing, you paved streets of our seven-gated city! come Dirce, fount of waters fair;
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and joined with her you nymphs of Asopus, come from your father’s waves to add your voices to our hymn, the victor’s prize that Heracles has won.
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O Pythian rock with forests crowned, and haunts of the Muses on Helicon! you will come to my city and her walls with cries of joy; where the earth-born crop sprang to view,
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a warrior-host with shields of brass, who are handing on their realm to children’s children, a divine light to Thebes.
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All hail the marriage! in which two bridegrooms shared; the one, a mortal;
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the other, Zeus, who came to wed the bride sprung from Perseus; for that marriage of yours, O Zeus, in days gone by has been proved to me a true story beyond all expectation;
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and time has shown the brightness of Heracles’ strength; for he emerged from caverns beneath the earth after leaving Pluto’s halls below. To me you are a worthier lord
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than that base-born king, who now lets it be plainly seen in this struggle between armed warriors, whether justice still finds favor in heaven.
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Spare us your advice on Hera’s and my schemes.
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I seek to turn your steps into the best path instead of into this one of evil.
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It was not to practice self-control that the wife of Zeus sent you here.
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I call the sun-god to witness that here I am acting against my will; but if indeed I must at once serve you and Hera
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and follow you in full cry as hounds follow the huntsman, then I will go; neither ocean with its fiercely groaning waves, nor the earthquake, nor the thunderbolt with blast of agony shall be like the headlong rush I will make into the breast of Heracles; through his roof will I burst my way and swoop upon his house,
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after first slaying his children; nor shall their murderer know that he is killing the children he begot, till he is released from my madness. Behold him! see how even now he is wildly tossing his head at the outset, and rolling his eyes fiercely from side to side without a word; nor can he control his panting breath, like a fearful bull in act to charge; he bellows,
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calling on the goddesses of nether hell. Soon will I rouse you to yet wilder dancing and pipe a note of terror in your ear. Soar away, O Iris, to Olympus on your honored course; while I unseen will steal into the halls of Heracles.
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Alas alas! lament; the son of Zeus, flower of your city, is being cut down. Woe to you, Hellas! that will cast from you your benefactor, and destroy him as he dances in the shrill frenzy of Madness.
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She is mounted on her chariot, the queen of sorrow and sighing, and is goading on her steeds, as if for outrage, the Gorgon child of Night, with a hundred hissing serpent-heads, Madness of the flashing eyes.
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Soon has the god changed his good fortune; soon will his children breathe their last, slain by a father’s hand.
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Ah me! alas!
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O Zeus, unjust Vengeance, mad, relentless, will soon give your childless son
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up to misery.
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Alas, O house!
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The dance begins without the cymbals’ crash, with no glad waving of the wine-god’s staff—
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Woe to these halls!
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Toward bloodshed,
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and not to pour libations of Dionysus’ grape.
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O children, make haste to fly!
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That is the chant of death, of death, to the music of pipes.
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Ah, yes! he is hunting the children down. Never will Madness lead her revel rout in vain.
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Ah misery!
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Ah me! how I lament that aged father, that mother too that bore his children in vain.
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Look! look!
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A tempest rocks the house; the roof is falling with it.
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Oh, oh! what are you doing, Pallas, child of Zeus, to the house? You are sending hell’s confusion against the halls, as once you did on Enceladus.
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O white-haired old men!
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Why this loud
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address to me?
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It is dreadful within!
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No need for me to call another prophet for that.
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The children are dead.
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Alas!
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Ah weep! for here is cause for weeping.

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0006.tlg009.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Source.