Enough for him: behold, the doors of Dis Are burst, and to the upper world he brings The booty taken from the vanquished king. 'Tis not enough that he returns alive: The law that binds the shades is set at naught. Myself I saw him, when he had o'ercome 50 The king of hades and escaped the night Of that deep underworld, display to Jove The spoils of Dis. But why does he not lead, Oppressed and overcome, the king himself Who gained by lot an equal realm with Jove? Why rules he not in conquered Erebus? Why bares he not the Styx? His upward way From deepest hell to earth he has retraced, 55 And all the sacred mysteries of death Lie open to the world. Not yet content, And proud that he has burst the bars of night, He triumphs over me, and, insolent, He leads through all the cities of the land That gruesome dog of hell. I saw, myself, The daylight pale at sight of Cerberus, 60 The sun start in affright. Nay, even I Was struck with terror; and, as I beheld That triple-headed beast in bondage led, I trembled at the thought that 'twas my will. But all too trivial ills do I lament; My fears must be aroused for heaven itself, Lest he who overcame the lowest depths Should scale the very skies, and from his sire 65 His scepter snatch away. Nor to the stars Will he, like Bacchus, by an easy path Ascend; through ruin would he make his way, And wish to rule an empty universe. He is inflamed with pride of tested strength; But he has learned by bearing up the heavens, That by his power the heavens can be subdued. 70 Upon his head he bore the universe, Nor did his shoulders bend beneath the weight Of that stupendous mass; the vault of heaven Upon his neck was poised, and steadily He bore the expanse of sky, the shining stars; And even me, down pressing, he endured. He seeks a place among the immortal gods. Then up, arouse thee to destructive wrath, 75 Destroy him meditating plans so great. Meet him in single strife; with thine own hands Asunder rend him. Why thy mighty hate Dost thou consign to others to appease? Enough of monsters; let Eurystheus rest, All weary with imposing thy commands. Though thou shouldst open wide Sicilia's vaults, And free the Titans who essayed to wrench 80 The scepter from the hand of mighty Jove; Though the Doric isle, which trembles with affright Whene'er the heaving giant turns himself, Should ease her weight upon the monster's head; Though in the moon another race of beasts Should be conceived: yet all of these, I know Alcides conquered and will conquer still. Seek'st thou his match? There is none save himself. 85 Then set him on to war against himself; Let furies from the lowest depths of hell