When the prince on the mighty Tyrrhene deep 310 In a fatal bark his mother sent, By guile ensnared. The sailors at his bidding haste To leave the peaceful harbor's arms; And soon the rougher waves resound 315 Beneath their oars, and far away Upon the deep the vessel glides; When suddenly the reeling bark With loosened beams yawns open wide, And drinks the briny sea. A mighty shout to heaven goes, 320 With women's lamentations filled, And death stalks dire before the eyes Of all. Each seeks to save himself. Some naked cling upon the planks Of the broken ship and fight the floods, 325 While others swimming seek the shore. But most, alas! a watery death By fate awaits. Then did the queen In mad despair her garments rend; Her comely locks she tore, and tears Fell streaming down her grieving cheeks. 330 At last, with hope of safety gone, With wrath inflamed, by woes o'ercome, "Dost thou, O son, make this return," She cried, "for that great boon I gave? Such death I merit, I confess, 335 Who bore such monstrous child as thou, Who gave to thee the light of day, And in my madness raised thee high To Caesar's name and Caesar's throne. Oh, rise from deepest Acheron, My murdered husband, feast thine eyes 340 Upon my righteous punishment; For I brought death to thee, poor soul, And to thy son. See, see, I come, Deep down to meet thy grieving shade; And there, as I have merited, Shall I unburied lie, o'erwhelmed 345 By the raging sea." E'en as she spoke, The lapping waves broke o'er her lips, And deep she plunged below. Anon She rises from the briny depths, And, stung by fear of death, she strives With frenzied hands to conquer fate; But, spent with fruitless toil at last, 350 She yields and waits the end. But lo, In hearts which in trembling silence watch, Faith triumphs over deadly fear, And to their mistress, spent and wan With fruitless buffetings, they dare To lend their aid with cheering words 355 And helping hands. But what avails To escape the grasp of the savage sea? By the sword of the son is she doomed to die, Whose monstrous deed posterity Will scarce believe. With rage and grief 360 Inflamed, he raves that still she lives, His mother, snatched from the wild sea's jaws, And doubles crime on impious crime. Bent on his wretched mother's death, He brooks no tarrying of fate. 365 His willing creatures work his will, And in the hapless woman's breast The fatal sword is plunged; but she To that fell minister of death