Now, my firm heart, and thou, my daring soul, {894} Show what a son the daughter of Electryon, Alcmena of Tirynthia, bore to Jove! This lady, new in death, behoves me save, And, to Admetus rendering grateful service, Restore his lost Alcestis to his house. This sable-vested tyrant of the dead Mine eye shall watch, not without hope to find him Drinking th' oblations nigh the tomb. If once Seen from my secret stand I rush upon him, These arms shall grasp him till his panting sides Labour for breath; and who shall force him from me Till he gives back this woman? {906} If he fails to find Death elsewhere he will descend to the dark world of spirits itself, rather than fail in making a fit return to his friend: Whose hospitable heart {913} Receiv'd me in his house, nor made excuse Though pierc'd with such a grief; this he conceal'd Through generous thought, and reverence to his friend. Who in Thessalia bears a warmer love To strangers? Who, through all the realms of Greece? It never shall be said this noble man Received in me a base and worthless wretch! _Exit [through the Stage Right Side-door] in the direction of the tomb._ _Stage and Orchestra vacant for a while._ EPISODE V _Return of the Funeral Procession, headed by the Chorus who remain in the Orchestra; the rest file up the steps onto the stage, Admetus last. The Episode is technically a 'Dirge' between Admetus, whose speeches fall into the rhythm of a Funeral March, and the Chorus, who speak in Strophes and Antistrophes of more elaborate lyric rhythm, often interrupted by the wails of Admetus._ _Admetus reaching the top of the Steps from the Orchestra stands face to face with the splendid facade of his Palace_. Hateful entrance, hateful aspect of a widowed home! How find rest there, in the heavy woes to which he is now doomed? It is with the dead that rest is found: his heart is in their dark houses, where he has placed a loved hostage torn from him by fate! {931} _Chorus_ [_in Strophe_]. Nevertheless he must go forward; he must hide him in the deepest recesses of his Palace with his grief, the helpless groans that yet will nothing aid her whom he will never see more! {938} _Admetus_ cries that that is the deepest wound of all! Would he had never wedded! To mourn single is pain endurable; to see children wasting with disease, to see death invading the nuptial bed--that is the pang unbearable! {950} _Chorus_ [_in Antistrophe_]. Fate is resistless: shall sorrow then have no bounds? Other men have known what it is to lose a wife: and in one or other of innumerable forms misery has found out every son of mortality. {956}