HYL. Of Iole thou speak'st, or I mistake. HER. Of her. This then is all I urge, my son. When I am dead, if thou wouldst show thy duty, Think of thine oath to me, and, on my word, Make her thy wife: nor let another man Take her, but only thou; since she hath lain So near this heart. Obey me, O my boy! And be thyself the maker of this bond. To spurn at trifles after great things given, Were to confound the meed already won. HYL. Oh, anger is not right, when men are ill! But who could bear to see thee in this mind? HER. You murmur, as you meant to disobey. HYL. How can I do it, when my mother's death And thy sad state sprang solely from this girl? Who, not possessed with furies, could choose this? Far better, father, for me too to die, Than to live still with my worst enemy. HER. This youth withdraws his reverence in my death. But, if thou yield'st not to thy father's best, The curse from Heaven shall dog thy footsteps still. HYL. Ah! thou wilt tell me that thy pain is come. HER. Yea, for thou wak'st the torment that had slept. HYL. Ay me! how cross and doubtful is my way! HER. Because you will reject your father's word. HYL. Must I be taught impiety from thee? HER. It is not impious to content my heart. HYL. Then you require this with an absolute will? HER. And bid Heaven witness to my strong command. HYL. Then I will do it, for the act is thine. I will not cast it off. Obeying thee, My sire, the Gods will ne'er reprove my deed. HER. Thou endest fairly. Now, then, O my son, Add the performance swiftly, that, before Some spasm or furious onset of my pain Have seized me, ye may place me on the pyre. Come, loiter not, but lift me. Now my end Is near, the last cessation of my woe. HYL. Since thy command is urgent, O my sire! We tarry not, but bear thee to the pyre. HER. Stubborn heart, ere yet again Wakes the fierce rebound of pain, While the evil holds aloof, Thou, with bit of diamond proof, Curb thy cry, with forced will Seeming to do gladly still! HYL. Lift him, men, and hate not me For the evil deeds ye see, Since the Heavens' relentless sway Recks not of the righteous way. He who gave life and doth claim From his seed a Father's name Can behold this hour of blame. Though the future none can tell, Yet the present is not well: Sore for him who bears the blow, Sad for us who feel his woe, Shameful to the Gods, we trow. CH. Maidens from the palace-hall, Come ye forth, too, at our call! Mighty deaths beyond belief, Many an unknown form of grief, Ye have seen to-day; and nought But the power of Zeus hath wrought. * * * * * PHILOCTETES THE PERSONS ODYSSEUS. NEOPTOLEMUS. CHORUS _of Mariners_. PHILOCTETES. Messenger, _disguised as a Merchantman_. HERACLES, _appearing from the sky_. SCENE. A desert shore of the Island of Lemnos.