By gleaming Phoebus' fiery disk I swear, By all the gods of heaven: I go to death, But leave Alcides still upon the earth. [_She rushes from the scene._] _Hyllus:_ Ah me, in mood of frenzy has she fled. My mother's part in this sad tragedy 1025 Is self-assigned; she is resolved to die. My part remains to thwart her dread resolve. O wretched piety! O filial love! If now my mother's death I should prevent, I wrong my father; if I let her die, 'Gainst her I sin. Crime stands on either hand; Yet must I check her and true crime withstand. 1030 * * * * * _Chorus:_ The sacred singer's word was true Which once on Thracian Rhodope, Orpheus, the heavenly Muse's son, Sang to his lute Pierian: That naught for endless life is made. 1035 At his sweet strains the rushing stream Its uproar stilled, and all its waves Paused in forgetfulness of flight; And while the waters stayed to hear, 1040 The tribes far down the Hebrus' stream Deemed that their river was no more. All wingéd creatures of the wood And e'en the woods themselves came near To listen; or, if far on high Some bird was wheeling through the air, 1045 To that sweet music swift he fell On drooping wings. The mountains came: Rough Athos with its Centaur herd, And Rhodope, its drifted snows Loosed by the magic of that song, 1050 Stood by to hear. The Dryads left The shelter of their oaken trunks And gathered round the tuneful bard. The beasts came, too, and with them came 1055 Their lairs; hard by the fearless flocks The tawny Afric lion crouched; The timid does feared not the wolves; And serpents crawled forth to the light, Their venom quite forgot. 1060 When through the doors of Taenara He made his way to the silent land, Sounding his mournful lyre the while, The glooms of Tartara were filled With his sad song; and the sullen gods Of Erebus were moved to tears. 1065 He feared not the pool of the Stygian stream By whose dread waves the heavenly gods Make oath unbreakable. The whirling rim of the restless wheel Stood still, its breathless speed at rest. 1070 The immortal liver of Tityos Grew, undevoured, while at the song The spellbound birds forgot their greed. Thou, too, didst hear, O boatman grim, And thy bark that plies the infernal stream With oars all motionless came on. Then first the hoary Phrygian 1075 Forgot his thirst, although no more The mocking waters fled his lips But stood enchanted; now no more He reaches hungry hands to grasp