Hercules Furens: Act V

Hercules [waking up in his right mind]: What place is this? Whatquarter of the world?Where am I? 'Neath the rising sun, or whereThe frozen Bear wheels slowly overhead?Or in that farthest land whose shores are washedBy the Hesperian sea? What air is thisI breathe? What soil supports my weary frame?For surely have I come again to earth.Whence came those bloody corpses in my house?Do I behold them, or not even yetHave those infernal visions left my mind?Even on earth the ghostly shapes of deathStill flit before mine eyes. I speak with shame:I am afraid. Some great calamity,Some hidden ill my prescient soul forebodes.Where is my father? Where my faithful wife,Proud of that troop of children at her side?Why does my left side miss the lion's skin,My shield in danger and my couch in sleep?Where is my bow, my darts? Who, while I liveHas dared remove my arms? Who so great spoilsHas gained? Who then so bold as not to fearThe very slumber of a Hercules?'Twould please me well to see my victor--well.Arise, thou victor, whom my sire begot,A later wonder, leaving heaven behind;At whose begetting, longer than at mine,The night stood waiting.Oh, what sight is this?My sons lie murdered, weltering in their blood;My wife is slain. What Lycus rules the land?Who could have dared to do such things in Thebes,And Hercules returned? Whoever dwellsAlong Ismenus' stream, in Attic plains,Or in the land Dardanian Pelops rules,By two seas lapped, come to my aid, and tellThe name of him who has this murder done.If not, my wrath will turn against you all;For he's my foe who shows me not my foe.Why dost thou hide, Alcides' vanquisher?I care not whether thou dost vengeance seekFor those wild horses of the Thracian king,Or Geryon's flock, or Libya's vanquished lords;I do not shun the fight; see, here I stand,Defenseless, even though with my own armsThou com'st against me, armorless. But whyDo Theseus and my father shun my glance?Why do they turn away? Postpone your tears,And tell me who has given my loved ones allTo death. What, father, art thou silent still?Then do thou tell me, Theseus, faithful friend.Each turns away in silence, and his face,As if in shame, conceals; while down his cheeksThe tears flow stealthily. In so great illsWhat cause for shame can be? Is this the workOf him who ruthlessly at Argos rules?Has dying Lycus' hostile soldieryWith such disaster overwhelmed our house?O father, by the praises of my deeds,By thine own name which ever was to mePropitious, tell, I pray thee, who it isWho hath o'erthrown my house. Whose prey am I?Amphitr.: Let ills like these in silence pass away.

Hercules: And I be unavenged?

Hercules: Who has, inactive, ever borne such wrongs?

Amphitr.: He who feared greater wrongs.

Hercules: Than these my wrongsCan any greater, heavier be feared?

Amphitr.: The part thou knowest of thy woes is least.

Hercules: Have pity. See, I stretch my suppliant hands.But what is this? He will not touch my hands.In these must be the sin.But whence this blood?Why is that shaft, once dipped in Hydra's gall,Now wet with infant gore? They are my own,These arrows that I see; the guilty handI need no longer seek; for who but meCould bend that mighty bow, or whose right handCould draw the string that scarcely yields to me?To you I turn again. O father, tell:Is this my deed?They hesitate--'tis mine.

Amphitr.: Thine is the grief; thy stepdame's is the crime.From fault of thine this sad mischance is free.

Hercules: Now hurl thy wrathful bolts from all the heavens,O sire, who hast forgotten me, thy son;Avenge at least, though with a tardy hand,Thy grandsons. Let the star-set heavens resound,And darting lightnings leap from pole to pole.Let me be bound upon the Caspian rocks,And let the birds of prey devour my flesh.Why lacks Prometheus' cliff a prisoner?Prepare for me the bare, steep mountain sideOf Caucasus, that, on his towering peak,The birds and beasts of prey may feed on me.Or let the blue Symplegades, which hedgeThe Scythian deep, stretch out my fettered handsThis way and that; and, when with rhythmic changeThe rocks together clash, which fling to heavenThe sea that lies between the rushing cliffs,May I lie there, the mountains' restless check.Or why not heap a mighty pyre of wood,And burn my body stained with impious blood?Thus, thus it must be done; so HerculesShall to the lower world return again.

Amphitr.: Not yet has madness ceased to vex his heart.But now his wrath has changed, and, fury's sign,He rages 'gainst himself.

Hercules: Ye dire abodesOf fiends, ye prison-house of damnéd shades,Ye regions set apart for guilty throngs,If any place of exile lie beyondDeep Erebus, unknown to CerberusAnd me, there hide ye me. I'll go and dwellUpon the farthest bound of Tartarus.O heart, too hard! Who worthily will weepFor you, my children, scattered through my house?This face, woe-hardened, knows not how to weep.Bring me my sword, and give me here my darts,My mighty club.For thee, poor murdered boy,I'll break my shafts; for thee my mighty bowShall be asunder riven; to thy shadesMy heavy club shall burn; and on thy pyreMy quiver, full of venomed darts, shall lie.My arms shall pay their penalty for sin.You, too, my guilty hands, with these shall burn,Too prompt to work a cruel stepdame's will.Theseus: Who ever called an act of madness crime?

Hercules: Unbridled madness often ends in crime.

Amphitr.: Now is there need of Hercules to bearThis greatest weight of woe.

Hercules: Not yet is shameSo utterly extinguished in my heart,That I can bear to see all people fleeMy impious presence. Arms, my Theseus, arms!I pray you give them quickly back to me.If I am sane, trust weapons to my hands;If madness still remains, O father, fly;For I shall quickly find the road to death.

Amphitr.: By holy ties of birth, and by the nameThat makes us one, be it of father true,Or foster-father; by these hoary locksWhich pious souls revere: I pray thee spareMy lonely age and my enfeebled years.Spare thou thyself to me, the only propOf this my falling house, the only lightThat's left to cheer my woeful heart. No fruitOf all thy toils have I as yet enjoyed;But ever either stormy seas I've feared,Or monsters. Every savage king who ravesIn all the world, for impious altars famed,Is cause of dread to me. Thy father longsFor joy of thee, to feel and see thee near.

Hercules: Why I should longer keep my soul in life,And linger on the earth, there is no cause;For I have lost my all: my balanced mind,My arms, my reputation, children, wife,The glory of my strength--my madness too.There is no remedy for tainted souls;But death alone can cure me of my sin.Amphitr.: And wilt thou slay thy father?

Hercules: Lest I do,I'll kill myself.

Hercules: Such impious sights I've taught him to behold.

Amphitr.: Nay, rather think upon thy worthy deeds,And grant thyself remission of one sin.

Hercules: Shall he give absolution to himself,Who granted none to other men? My deedsWhich have deserved the praise of men, I didBecause another bade. This is my own.Then help me, father, whether pietyOr my sad fortune move thee to my aid,Or the glory of my manhood, now profaned.Give me my arms again, that my right handMay vanquish fate.

Theseus: Thy father's prayers, indeed,Are strong enough; but by my pleadings, too,Be moved. Rise up, and meet adversityWith thine accustomed force. Thy strength of mindRecall, which no misfortune ever yetHas daunted. Now must thou with all thy mightContend, and curb the wrath of Hercules.

Hercules: If yet I live, I have committed wrong;But if I die, then have I suffered it.I haste to purge the earth of such as I.Now long enough has there been hoveringBefore my eyes that monstrous shape of sin,So impious, savage, merciless, and wild.Then come, my hand, attempt this mighty task,Far greater than the last. Dost hesitateThrough cowardice? Or art thou brave alone'Gainst boys and trembling mothers?Give my arms,Or else I shall from Thracian Pindus stripThe woods, the groves of Bacchus, and shall burnCithaeron's ridgy heights along with me.The homes of Thebes together with their lords,The temples with their gods, will I o'erthrow,And 'neath a ruined city will I lie.And if this weight of walls should prove too lightFor these strong shoulders, and the seven gatesBe not enough to crush me to the earth,The mighty mass of earth which separatesThe upper from the nether skies I'll take,And hurl its crushing weight upon my head.Amphitr.: Lo, I return thine arms.

Hercules: Now are thy wordsMore worthy of the sire of Hercules.See, by this arrow pierced, my child was slain.Amphitr.: 'Tis true, but Juno shot it by thy hand.

Hercules: Then I myself shall use it now.

Amphitryon: Behold,How throbs his heart within his anxious breast.

Hercules: The shaft is ready.

Amphitryon: Ah now wilt thou sin,Of thine own will and with full consciousness.Have then thy will; we make no further prayer.For now my grief has gained a safe retreat.Thou only canst preserve my son to me;Thou canst not take him from me. For my fearI've sounded to the depths and feel no more.Thou canst no longer give me any pain,Though happy thou canst make me even yet.Decide then as thou wilt decide: but knowThat here thy cause and reputation standIn doubtful balance. Either thou dost live,Or thou dost kill thy sire. This fleeting soul,Now worn with age and shattered by its grief,Is trembling on my lips in act to go.Art thou so slow to grant thy father life?I can no longer brook delay, nor waitTo thrust the fatal sword into my breast.And this shall be a sane Alcides' crime.

Hercules: Now stay, my father, stay; withhold thy hand.Yield thee, my manhood; do a father's will.Add this task also to thy former toils--And live! Lift up my father's fainting form,O Theseus, friend; for these my guilty handsThat pious duty shun.

Amphitryon: But I with joyWill clasp this hand, with its support I'll walk,And to my aching heart I'll clasp it close,And banish all my woes.

Hercules: Where shall I flee?Where hide myself? What land shall bury meFrom human sight? What Tanaïs or Nile,What Tigris, with the waves of Persia mad,What warlike Rhine, or Tagus, flowing fullAnd turgid with Iberia's golden sands,Can ever cleanse this right hand of its stains?Though chill Maeotis pour its icy floodsUpon me; though the boundless sea should pourIts waters o'er my hands; still would they beDeep dyed with crime. Where wilt thou take thyself,Thou murderer? Wilt flee to east, or west?Known everywhere, I have no place of flight.The whole world shrinks from sight of me; the starsAvert their courses from me, and the sunSaw even Cerberus with milder face.O Theseus, faithful friend, seek out a place,Far off from here, where I may hide myself.Since thou a lenient judge of others' sinsHast ever been, grant mercy now to me.Restore me to the infernal shades, I beg,And load me with the chains thou once didst wear.That place will hide me--but it knows me too!

Theseus: My land awaits thy coming; there will MarsWash clean thy hands, and give thee back thy arms.That land, O Hercules, now calls to thee,Which even gods from sin is wont to free.