_Alc._ The dread exchange E’en now, O father! hath been made; the prey Is ready, nor is wholly worthless him For whom ’tis freely offer’d. Nor wilt thou, O mighty goddess of th’ infernal shades! Whose image sanctifies this threshold floor, Disdain the victim. _Phe._ All prepared the prey! And to our blood allied! Oh, heaven!--and yet Thou had’st me weep no more! _Alc._ Yes! thus I said, And thus again I say, thou shalt not weep Thy son’s, nor I deplore my husband’s doom. Let him be saved, and other sounds of woe Less deep, less mournful far, shall here be heard, Than those _his_ death had caused.--With some few tears, But grief, and mingled with a gleam of joy, E’en while the involuntary tribute lasts, The victim shall be honour’d who resign’d Life for Admetus.--Would’st thou know the prey, The vow’d, the willing, the devoted one, Offer’d and hallow’d to th’ infernal gods, Father!--’tis I. _Phe._ What hast thou done? Oh, heaven! What hast thou done? And think’st thou he is saved By such a compact? Think’st thou he can live Bereft of thee?--Of thee, his light of life, His very soul!--Of thee, beloved far more Than his loved parents--than his children more-- More than himself? Oh no! it shall not be? _Thou_ perish, O Alcestis! in the flower Of thy young beauty!--perish, and destroy Not him, not _him_ alone, but us, but all, Who as a child adore thee! Desolate Would be the throne, the kingdom, reft of thee. And think’st thou not of those whose tender years Demand thy care?--thy children! think of them! O thou, the source of each domestic joy, Thou, in whose life alone Admetus lives, His glory, his delight, thou shalt not die While I can die for thee! Me, me alone, The oracle demands--a wither’d stem, Whose task, whose duty, is for him to die. My race is run--the fulness of my years, The faded hopes of age, and all the love Which hath its dwelling in a father’s heart, And the fond pity, half with wonder blent, Inspired by thee, whose youth with heavenly gifts So richly is endow’d;--all, all unite To grave in adamant the just decree, That I must die. But thou, I bid thee live! Pheres commands thee, O Alcestis--live! Ne’er, ne’er shall woman’s youthful love surpass An aged sire’s devotedness. _Alc._ I know Thy lofty soul, thy fond paternal love; Pheres, I know them well, and not in vain Strove to anticipate their high resolves. But if in silence I have heard thy words, Now calmly list to mine, and thou shalt own They may not be withstood. _Phe._ What canst thou say Which I should hear? I go, resolved to save Him who with thee would perish;--to the shrine E’en now I fly.