Unto the Highest, that ye may hear me tell
With my last breath what prophecies I know.
Hyl. Thy mother is not here, but by the shore
Of Tiryns hath obtained a dwelling-place;
And of thy sons, some she hath with her there,
And some inhabit Thebè’s citadel.
But we who are with thee, sire, if there be aught
That may by us be done, will hear, and do.
Her. Then hearken thou unto this task, and show
If worthily thou art reputed mine.
Now is time to prove thee. My great father
Forewarned me long ago that I should die
By none who lived and breathed, but from the will
Of one now dwelling in the house of death.
And so this Centaur, as the voice Divine
Then prophesied, in death hath slain me living.
And in agreement with that ancient word
I now interpret newer oracles
Which I wrote down on going within the grove
Of the hill-roving and earth-couching Selli,—
Dictated to me by the mystic tongue
Innumerous, of my Father’s sacred tree;
Declaring that my ever instant toils
Should in the time that now hath being and life
End and release me. And I look’d for joy.
But the true meaning plainly was my death.—
No labour is appointed for the dead.—
Then, since all argues one event, my son,
Once more thou must befriend me, and not wait
For my voice goading thee, but of thyself
Submit and second my resolve, and know
Filial obedience for thy noblest rule.
Hyl. I will obey thee, father, though my heart
Sinks heavily in approaching such a theme.
Her. Before aught else, lay thy right hand in mine.
Hyl. Why so intent on this assurance, sire?
Her. Give it at once and be not froward, boy.
Hyl. There is my hand: I will gainsay thee nought.
Her. Swear by the head of him who gave me life.
