Thou hast the ashes of thy Hercules. Embrace his bones, and they will give thee help, Will be thy sure defense. For e'en the shade 1830 Of great Alcides will make kings afraid. _Philoctetes:_ O mother of illustrious Hercules, Restrain the tears thou deemest due thy son; For neither grieving tears nor mournful prayers Should follow him who by his noble worth Has forced his way to heaven in spite of fate. Alcides' deathless valor checks your tears. 1835 _Alcmena:_ Why should I bate my grief? For I have lost My savior,[44] yea, the savior of the land And sea,[45] and wheresoe'er the shining day From his resplendent car, in east or west, Looks down upon the earth. How many sons In him, O wretched mother, have I lost! 1840 Without a kingdom, I could kingdoms give. I only, 'midst all mothers of the earth, Had never need of prayer; naught from the gods I asked, while Hercules remained alive; For what could his devotion not bestow? What god in heaven could e'er deny me aught? 1845 In my own hands was answer of my prayer; For what great Jove denied, Alcides gave. What mortal mother e'er bore such a son? A mother once with grief was turned to stone, When, 'midst her brood of fourteen children slain, She stood, one mother, and bewailed them all. 1850 To many families like hers my son Could be compared. Till now for mother's grief A measure vast enough could not be found; But now will I, Alcmena, furnish it. Then cease, ye mothers, though persistent grief Till now has bidden you weep; though heavy woe 1855 Has turned your hearts to stone; and yield you all Unto my woes. Then come, ye wretched hands, And beat this agéd breast. But can it be That thou alone canst for so great a loss Lament, so old and worn, which[46] all the world 1860 Will presently attempt? Yet raise thy arms, However weary, to their mournful task. And to thy wailing summon all the earth, And so excite the envy of the gods. [_Here follows_ Alcmena's _formal song of mourning, accompanied by the usual Oriental gestures of grief_.]