What land will welcome me, Now old and hated by all cruel kings (If any cruel king remains alive)? Oh, woe is me! Whatever orphaned son Laments his sire will strive to seek revenge 1785 From me, and I shall be the prey of all. If any young Busiris or the son Of dread Antaeus terrifies the land, His booty shall I be. If anyone Would make reprisal for the Thracian steeds Of bloody Diomede, I shall be given 1790 To feed those cruel herds. Juno perchance Will be by passion pricked to seek revenge. Now all her anger will be turned on me; For, though her soul no longer is disturbed Because of Hercules, I still am left, Her hated rival. Ah, what punishment Will she inflict, in fear lest I bring forth 1795 Another son! The mighty Hercules Has made my womb a thing of terror still. Where shall Alcmena take herself? What place, What region of the universe will keep, What hiding-place conceal thy mother now, Since she is known through thee in every land? Shall I return unto my native shores, My wretched lares? There Eurystheus reigns. 1800 Shall I seek out my husband's city, Thebes, Ismenus' stream, and my own bridal bed Where once, beloved, I saw great Jupiter? Oh, happy, far too happy had I been, If I myself, like Semele, had felt The blasting presence of the thundering Jove! Oh, would that from my womb Alcides, too, 1805 Untimely had been torn! But now 'tis given, 'Tis given to see my son with mighty Jove Vying in praise; would that this might be given, To know from what fate he could rescue me. What people now will live remembering thee, O son? Ungrateful are they all alike. 1810 Cleonae shall I seek? the Arcadians, And the lands ennobled by thy mighty deeds? Here fell the serpent dire, here monstrous birds, Here fell the bloody king; and here, subdued By thy right hand, the lion, who in heaven Is given a place, whilst thou in earth remain'st. 1815 If earth is grateful, then let every race Defend Alcmena for thy sake. Shall I To Thracian peoples go, to Hebrus' tribes? For this land, too, was by thy mighty works Defended. Low the bloody stables lie, And low the kingdom; peace was granted it, 1820 What time the cruel king was overthrown. What land, indeed, has not gained peace through thee? Where shall I seek for thee a sepulcher, Unhappy, agéd woman that I am? Let all the world contend for these remains Collected from the pyre of Hercules. What race, what temples, or what nations ask For them? Who asks to have Alcmena's load? 1825 What sepulcher, O son, what tomb for thee Is great enough? Naught save the world itself; And lasting fame shall be thine epitaph. But why, O soul of mine, art thou in fear?