"I will go lie in wait for Death, black-stoled King of the corpses![103] I shall find him, sure, Drinking, beside the tomb, o' the sacrifice: And if I lie in ambuscade, and leap Out of my lair, and seize--encircle him Till one hand join the other round about-- There lives not who shall pull him out from me, Rib-mauled, before he let the woman go! But even say I miss the booty,--say, Death comes not to the boltered blood,--why, then, Down go I, to the unsunned dwelling-place Of Koré[104] and the king there,--make demand, Confident I shall bring Alkestis back, So as to put her in the hands of him My host, that housed me, never drove me off: Though stricken with sore sorrow hid the stroke, Being a noble heart and honoring me! Who of Thessalians, more than this man, loves The stranger? Who that now inhabits Greece? Wherefore he shall not say the man was vile Whom he befriended,--native noble heart!" So, one look upward, as if Zeus might laugh Approval of his human progeny,-- One summons of the whole magnific frame, Each sinew to its service,--up he caught, And over shoulder cast the lion-shag, Let the club go,--for had he not those hands? And so went striding off, on that straight way Leads to Larissa and the suburb tomb. Gladness be with thee, Helper of our world! I think this is the authentic sign and seal Of Godship that it ever waxes glad, And more glad, until gladness blossoms, bursts Into a rage to suffer for mankind, And recommence at sorrow: drops like seed After the blossom, ultimate of all. Say, does the seed scorn earth and seek the sun? Surely it has no other end and aim Than to drop, once more die into the ground, Taste cold and darkness and oblivion there: And thence rise, tree-like grow through pain to joy, More joy and most joy,--do man good again. So to the struggle off strode Herakles. [Illustration: FIG. 65. HERACLES] Long time the Thessalians waited and mourned. As for Herakles, no doubt they supposed him dead. When--but can it be?