By that reclining, I will clasp it to me,

And call it by thy name, and think I hold
My dear wife in my arms, and have her yet,
Though now no more I have her: cold delight
I ween; yet thus th' affliction of my soul
Shall I relieve, and visiting my dreams
Shalt thou delight me; for to see a friend
Is grateful to the soul, come when he will,
Though an unreal vision of the night.
Had I the voice of Orpheus, and his skill
Of pow'r to soothe with my melodious strains
The daughter of bright Ceres, or her husband,
That from their realms I might receive thee back,
I would go down; nor should th' infernal dog,
Nor the stern Charon, sitting at his oar
To waft the dead, restrain me, till thy life
I had restored to the fair light of day.
But there await me till I die; prepare
A mansion for me, as again with me
To dwell; for in thy tomb will I be laid
In the same cedar, by thy side compos'd;
For e'en in death I will not be disjoin'd

From thee, who hast alone been faithful to me. CHOR. For her dear sake thy sorrows will I share

As friend with friend; and she is worthy of it. ALC. You hear, my children, what your father's words Have promised, not to wed another woman

ADM.

ALC.

To your discomfort, nor dishonour me.

I now repeat it: firm shall be my faith. On this, receive thy children from my hands. A much-loved gift, and from a much-loved hand. Be now, instead of me, a mother to them. ADM. If they lose thee, it must indeed be so.

ADM.

ALC.

ALC.

ADM.

ALC.

ADM.

ALC.

When I should live, I sink among the dead.
Ah me, what shall I do bereft of thee!

Time will abate thy grief: the dead is nothing.
O lead me, by the gods, lead me down with thee.
Enough, it is enough that I die for thee.

ADM. O fate, of what a wife dost thou deprive me?
An heavy weight hangs on my darken'd eye.
If thou forsake me, I am lost indeed.

ALC.

ADM.

ALC.

ADM.

ALC. ADM. ALC. ADM. ALC.

As one that is no more I now am nothing.
Ah, raise thy face: do not forsake thy children.
It must be so perforce: farewell my children.
Look on them, but a look.

I am no more.

How dost thou? Wilt thou leave us then?

Farewell.

ADM. And what a wretch, what a lost wretch am I!
CHOR. She's gone; thy wife, Admetus, is no more.
EUM. O my unhappy fate!

ADM.

My mother sinks to the dark realms of night,
Nor longer views this golden light;
But to the ills of life expos'd

Leaves my poor orphan state.

Her eyes, my father, see, her eyes are clos'd,
And her hand nerveless falls.

Yet hear me, O my mother, hear my cries,

It is thy son that calls,

Who prostrate on the earth breathes on thy lips his sighs.
On one that hears not, sees not: I and you
Must bend beneath affliction's heaviest load.

EUM. Ah, she hath left my youth:

My mother, my dear mother, is no more,
Left me my sufferings to deplore;

Who shall my sorrows soothe?

Thou too, my sister, thy full share shalt know

Of grief, thy heart to rend.

Vain, O my father, vain thy nuptial vows,

Brought to this speedy end;

For, when my mother died, in ruin sunk thy house. CHOR. Admetus, thou perforce must bear these ills:

Thou'rt not the first, nor shalt thou be the last

Of mortal men, to lose a virtuous wife:
For know, death is a debt we all must pay.

ADM. I know it well: not unawares this ill

STRO. 1.

STRO. 2.

Falls on me; I foresaw, and mourn'd it long.
But I will bear the body hence; attend;
And, whilst you wait, raise with alternate voice
The Pean to the ruthless god that rules
Below: and through my realms of Thessaly
I give command that all in solemn grief
For this dear woman shear their locks, and wear
The sable garb of mourning; from your steeds,
Whether in pairs they whirl the car, or bear
Single the rider's rein, their waving manes
Cut close; nor through the city be the sound
Of flute or lyre for twelve revolving moons.
Never shall I entomb one dearer to me,

Or one more kind: these honours from my hands
She merits, for she only died for me.

Immortal bliss be thine,

Daughter of Pelias, in the realms below,
Immortal pleasures round thee flow,

Though never there the sun's bright beams shall shine.
Be the black-brow'd Pluto told,

And the Stygian boatman old,

Whose rude hands grasp the oar, the rudder guide,

The dead conveying o'er the tide,

Let him be told, so rich a freight before

His light skiff never bore;

Tell him that o'er the joyless lakes

The noblest of her sex her dreary passage takes.
Thy praise the Bards shall tell,

When to their hymning voice the echo rings.
Or when they sweep the solemn strings,
And wake to rapture the sev'n-chorded shell,
Or in Sparta's jocund bow'rs,

Circling when the vernal hours

Bring the Carnean feast, whilst through the night

438. For this custom of cutting off the manes of the horses in solemn mournings, Barnes produces instances of the Persians from Herodotus, and of the Grecians from Plutarch.

464. A festival instituted to Carnean Apollo, and celebrated in the month of

Full-orb'd the high moon rolls her light;
Or where rich Athens proudly elevate

Shews her magnific state:

Their voice thy glorious death shall raise,
And swell th' enraptur'd strain to celebrate thy praise.
O that I had the pow'r,

ANTIS. 1.

Could I but bring thee from the shades of night

Again to view this golden light,

To leave that boat, to leave that dreary shore,
Where Cocytus deep and wide

Rolls along his sullen tide!

ا

For thou, O best of women, thou alone

For thy lord's life daredst give thy own.
Light lie the earth upon that gentle breast,
And be thou ever blest!

But should he choose to wed again,

Mine, and thy children's hearts would hold him in disdain.
When, to avert his doom,

ANTIS. 2.

His mother in the earth refused to lie;

Nor would his ancient father die

To save his son from an untimely tomb;
Though the hand of time had spread
Hoar hairs o'er each aged head;

In youth's fresh bloom, in beauty's radiant glow, --dec.

The darksome way thou daredst to go,

And for thy youthful lord's to give thy life.
Be mine so true a wife;

Though rare the lot: then should I prove
Th' indissoluble bond of faithfulness and love.

HERCULES, CHORUS.

HERC. Ye strangers, citizens of Pheræ, say
If I shall find Admetus in the house.

CHOR. There is the son of Pheres, Hercules.

April by most of the cities of Greece, but particularly Sparta. At this festival the musical numbers, called Kægviños vóμa, were sung by musicians, who contended for victory. Potter's Archæol. Græc.

But what occasion tell us, brought thee hither
To Thessaly; to Phere why this visit?

HERC. A toil imposed by the Tirynthian king.
CHOR. And whither roving? On what journey bound?
HERC. For the four steeds that whirl the Thracian's car.
CHOR. How to be won? art thou à stranger there?
HERC. A stranger, never on Bistonian ground.
CHOR. These horses are not won without strong contest.
HERC. The toil, whate'er it be, I could not shun.
CHOR. He must be slain, or death awaits thee there.
HERC. Not the first contest this I have essay'd.

CHOR. Shou'dst thou o'ercome their lord, what is the prize?
HERC. His coursers to Eurystheus I shall lead.

CHOR. No slight task in their mouths to place the curb.
HERC. I shall, though from their nostrils they breathe fire.
CHOR. With their fierce jaws they rend the flesh of men.
HERC. So feeds the mountain savage, not the horse.
CHOR. Their mangers shalt thou see all stain'd with blood.
HERC. From whom does he that bred them draw his race?
CHOR. From Mars this king of golden-shielded Thrace.
HERC. How is this toil assign'd me by my fate,

In enterprise so hazardous and high

Engaged, that always with the sons of Mars
I must join battle? with Lycaon first,

With Cygnus next; now with these furious steeds
And their proud lord another contest waits me:
But never shall Alcmena's son be seen

To tremble at the fierceness of a foe.

CHOR. But, see, the sceptred ruler of this land,

Admetus, from his house advances to thee,

521. In the Hercules Furens, v. 391, this Cygnus is styled Esvodaíxras, on account of his cruelty to strangers. He resided in Thessaly near the sea coast, and used to oblige every person who travelled that way, or whom ill fortune brought on shore, to contend with him and his ambition was to be able with the skulls of the victims, which he slew, to build a temple to Apollo. See the Scholiast on Pindar's Olymp. Ode x.-Bryant's Analysis, v. ii. p. 48. For the combat, see Hesiod's Shield of Hercules.Of this Lycaon we have no account in history.