_Amphitr.:_ Now do my fervent hopes deceive my sight, Or is this he, the tamer of the world, The pride of Greece, from that sad, silent land 620 Returned? Is this my son? My agéd limbs Give way through utter joy. O son, of Thebes The sure though long-delayed preserver thou! And do I hold thee sent to earth again, Or does some empty shadow mock my joy? And art thou he indeed? I recognize Thy arms and shoulders and the mighty club Within thy hands renowned. 625 _Hercules:_ O father, whence These marks of grief, and why do I behold My wife in dusky mourning garments clad, My children garbed in these vile signs of woe? What fell disaster hath o'erwhelmed my house? _Amphitr.:_ Thy father-in-law is slain, his kingdom gone, For Lycus hath usurped it; now he seeks Thy children, father, wife, to bring to death. 630 _Hercules:_ Ungrateful land! did no one come to aid The home of Hercules? Did all the world, Defended by my arm, look on this deed And suffer it? But why waste time in grief? My enemy must die. _Theseus_ [_seeking to detain him_]: O Hercules, Let not thy mighty courage bear this stain, And such a foe as Lycus be thy last. 635 I go myself to drink his hateful blood. _Hercules:_ My Theseus, stay thou here, lest violence From some new source arise. This war is mine. Let thy embraces wait awhile, my sire, And thine, my wife. Let Lycus first announce To Dis that I have safe returned to earth. 640 [_Exit._] _Theseus:_ Now let thy face give o'er its grief, my queen; And thou, O father, check thy falling tears, Since this thy son is safe returned to thee. If I know Hercules, for Creon's death This Lycus soon shall pay the penalty. "Shall pay" is slow; he pays; nay more, has paid. _Amphitr.:_ Now may some favoring god our prayers fulfil, 645 And help us in our need. O trusty friend Of our great son, his deeds in order tell: How long the way that leads to the sorrowing shades; How bore the dog of hell his heavy chains. _Theseus:_ Thou bid'st me call to memory such deeds 650 As e'en in safety make me tremble still. For I can scarce believe that even yet I breathe the vital air. My eye's clear sight Is blinded, and, by that thick darkness dimmed, Can scarce endure the unaccustomed light. _Amphitr.:_ But conquer thou the fear that still remains Deep in thy heart; and do not rob thyself 665 Of the best fruit of toil. For what was hard To bear becomes most sweet in memory. Go on, and tell us all thy sufferings.