_Hercules:_ If on the heights of Caucasus I lay In chains, to greedy birds of prey exposed, While Scythia wailed in sympathy with me, No sound of woe should issue from my lips; Or should the huge, unfixed Symplegades 1380 Together clash and threaten me with death, I'd bear unmoved the threatened agony. Should Pindus fall upon me, Haemus too, Tall Athos which defies the Thracian seas, And Mimas at whose towering peaks are hurled The bolts of Jove--if e'en the sky itself 1385 Should fall upon my head, and Phoebus' car In blazing torture on my shoulders lie: No coward cry of pain would ever show The mind of Hercules subdued. Nay more: Although a thousand monstrous beasts at once Should rush upon and rend me limb from limb; Though here Stymphalus' bird with clangor wild, 1390 And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull, And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard; Nay, though the very soil of earth should rise And shriek[39] its rage at me from every side; Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air: Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms, No weapon wielded by the hand of man, Could force from me a single word of pain. 1395 _Alcmena:_ No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son; But thy long years of work, thy constant toils, Have for thy woe some evil sickness bred. _Hercules:_ Sickness, say'st thou? Where may this sickness be? Does any evil still upon the earth Exist, with me alive? But let it come. Let someone quickly bring my bow to me-- 1400 But no: my naked hands will be enough. Now bid the monster come. _Alcmena:_ Alas, his pains, Too great, have reft his senses quite away. Remove his weapons, take those deadly shafts Out of his reach, I pray. His burning cheeks 1405 Some violence portend. Oh, where shall I, A helpless, agéd woman hide myself? That grief of his has changed to maddened rage, And that alone is master of him now. Why should I, therefore, foolish that I am, Seek hiding-place or flight? By some brave hand Alcmena has deserved to meet her death. So let me perish even impiously, 1410 Before some craven soul command my death, Or some base creature triumph over me. But see, outworn by woe, his weary heart Is in the soothing bonds of slumber bound; His panting chest with labored breathing heaves. Have mercy, O ye gods. If ye from me 1415 Have willed to take my glorious son, at least Spare to the world, I pray, its champion. Let all his pains depart, and once again Let great Alcides' frame renew its strength. [_Enter_ Hyllus.]