_Deianira_ [_to_ Lichas]: O Lichas, ever faithful to thy lord, A name which mighty houses may not boast: 570 Take thou this garment woven by my hands, While Hercules was wandering o'er the earth, Or, spent with wine, was holding in his arms The Lydian queen, or calling Iole. And yet, perchance, I still may turn his heart To me again by wifely service. Thus Have evil men full often been reclaimed. 575 Before my husband puts this tunic on, Bid him burn incense and appease the gods, His rough locks wreathed with hoary poplar leaves. [Lichas _takes the robe and departs upon his mission_.] I will myself within the palace go And pray the mother of relentless love. 580 [_To her Aetolian attendants._] Do ye, who from my father's house have come, Bewail the sad misfortunes of your queen. [_Exit._] _Chorus of Aetolian women:_ We weep for thee, O lady dear, And for thy couch dishonored--we, The comrades of thy earliest years, Weep and lament thy fate. 585 How often have we played with thee In Acheloüs' shallow pools, When now the swollen floods of spring Had passed away, and gently now, With graceful sweep, the river ran; When mad Lycormas ceased to roll 590 His headlong waters on. How oft have we, a choral band, To Pallas' altars gone with thee; How oft in Theban baskets borne 595 The sacred Bacchic mysteries, When now the wintry stars have fled, When each third summer calls the sun; And when, the sacred rites complete To Ceres, queen of golden grain, Eleusin hides her worshipers Within her mystic cave. Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st, 600 Accept us as thy trusted friends; For rare is such fidelity When better fortune fails. O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power, Whoe'er thou art, though eagerly The people throng within thy courts, 605 And press for entrance at thy doors; And though the crowds press thick about Where'er thou tak'st thy way: be sure That in so many seeming friends, Scarce one is true. Erinys keeps the gilded gate; And when the great doors swing apart, 610 Then cunning treachery creeps in And fraud, and murderous dagger points. Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad, Base envy as thy comrade goes. As often as the morning dawns Be sure a king from fear of death 615 Has been delivered. Few there are Who love the king, and not his power. For 'tis the glitter of the throne That fires most hearts to loyalty. Now one is eager next the king To walk before the gaze of men,