_Hyllus:_ Not thou alone dost weep for Hercules; For in his fall the universe laments. Think not on private griefs; the human race Lifts up the voice of mourning. All the world 760 Is grieving with the selfsame grief thou feel'st. Thou shar'st thy misery with every land. Thou hast, indeed, forestalled their grief, poor soul; Thou first, but not alone, dost weep for him. _Deianira:_ Yet tell me, tell, I pray, how near to death 765 Lies my Alcides now. _Hyllus:_ Death flees his grasp, Death whom he conquered once in its own realm; Nor will the fates permit so great a crime. Perchance dread Clotho from her trembling hand Has thrown aside her distaff, and in fear Refuses to complete Alcides' fate. 770 O day, O awful day! and must this be The final day for mighty Hercules? _Deianira:_ To death and the world of shades, to that dark realm, Dost say that he has gone already? Why, Oh, why may I not be the first to go? But tell me truly, if he still doth live. _Hyllus:_ Euboea stands with high uplifted head, 775 On every side lashed by the tossing waves. Here high Caphereus faces Phrixus' sea, And here rough Auster blows. But on the side Which feels the blast of snowy Aquilo, Euripus restless leads his wandering waves; Seven times his heaving tides he lifts on high, 780 Seven times they sink again, before the sun His weary horses plunges in the sea. Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds, An ancient temple of Cenaean Jove Gleams far and wide. When at the altars stood The votive herd, and all the grove was full Of hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls; 785 Then Hercules put off his lion's skin With gore besmeared, his heavy club laid down, And freed his shoulders of the quiver's weight. Then, gleaming brightly in the robe thou gav'st, His shaggy locks with hoary poplar wreathed, He lit the altar fires, and prayed: "O Jove, 790 Not falsely called my father, take these gifts And let the sacred fire blaze brightly up With copious incense, which the Arab rich From Saba's trees in worship of the sun Collects. All monsters of the earth, the sea, The sky have been subdued at last, and I, As victor over all, am home returned. 795 Lay down thy thunderbolt." So prayed he then. But even as he prayed a heavy groan Fell from his lips, and he was horror struck And mute awhile. And then with dreadful cries He filled the air. As when a votive bull Feels in his wounded neck the deep-driven ax, And flees away, retaining still the steel, And fills with loud uproar the spacious hall; 800 Or as the thunder rumbles round the sky: So did Alcides smite the very stars And sea with his loud roarings. Chalcis heard,