With winged hours is turned. The cruel sisters urge their task, Nor backward turn the threads of life. But the race of men is hurried on To meet the quick approaching fates, Uncertain of their own. Of our own will we haste to cross 185 The Stygian waves. Thou, Hercules, With heart too brave, before thy time Didst see the grieving shades. The fates In pre-established order come; And none may stay when they command, None may put off the appointed day. 190 The swiftly whirling urn of fate Contains all mortal men. Let glory then to many lands Proclaim some names, and chattering fame Through every city sing their praise, And raise them to the stars. Sublime 195 In triumph let another ride. Me let my native land conceal Within a safe and humble home. 'Tis unambitious souls who come To hoary-headed age at last. If humble, still the lot is sure Of lowly homes. Souls lifted high, 200 For this to greater depths must fall. But see, sad Megara comes with flowing hair, Her little children closely pressing round; And with her, with the tardy step of age, The sire of Hercules, Amphitryon. FOOTNOTES: [17] Reading, _et in agris_. ACT II _Megara:_ O mighty ruler of Olympus' heights, 205 Thou judge of all the world, now set at length A limit to my cares, and make an end Of my disasters. No untroubled day Doth dawn for me; but one misfortune's end Marks but the starting-point of future woes. Fresh foes are ready for my Hercules Straightway on his return; ere he can reach 210 His happy home, another warfare bids That he set forth again. No time for rest Is given, save while he waits a fresh command. 'Twas ever thus: from earliest infancy Unfriendly Juno follows on his track. Was e'en his cradle free from her assaults? He conquered monsters ere he learned to know 215 What monsters were. Two crested serpents huge Against him reared their heads; the dauntless child Crawled forth to meet them, and, with placid gaze Intently fixed upon their fiery eyes, With fearless look he raised their close-coiled folds, 220 And crushed their swollen necks with tender hand. And thus he practiced for the hydra's death. He caught the nimble stag of Maenalus, Its beauteous head adorned with horns of gold. The lion, terror of Nemean woods, Groaned out his life beneath the mighty arms 225 Of Hercules. Why should I call to mind The stables dire of that Bistonian herd, And the king as food to his own horses given? The rough Maenalian boar, which, from his lair On Erymanthus' thickly wooded heights, Filled all the groves of Arcady with dread?