Tomorrow shall a stronger lord
Inspire in you. For every power
Is subject to a greater power.
Him, whom the dawning day beholds
In proud estate, the setting sun
Sees lying in the dust.
Let no one then trust overmuch 615
To favoring fate; and when she frowns,
Let no one utterly despair
Of better fortune yet to come.
For Clotho mingles good and ill;
She whirls the wheel of fate around,
Nor suffers it to stand.
To no one are the gods so good
That he may safely call his own 620
Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheel
Has God our fortunes placed for good or ill.
ACT IV
[Enter Messenger breathlessly announcing the horror which has just been
enacted behind the scenes.]
Messenger: Oh, for some raging blast to carry me
With headlong speed through distant realms of air,
And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds;
That so I might this monstrous horror tear
From my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame 625
To Pelops even and to Tantalus!
Chorus: What is the news thou bring'st?
Messenger: What realm is this?
Argos and Sparta, once the noble home
Of pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shores
Two rival oceans beat? Or do I see
The barbarous Danube on whose frozen stream
The savage Alani make swift retreat? 630
Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?
Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?
What place is this that knows such hideous crime?
Chorus: But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be.
Messenger: When I my scattered senses gather up,
