Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/240

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Will drive his flocks. And soon, alas,
Within our walls, the shepherd rude
Shall sing upon his rustic pipes,
With doleful voice, our history. 130
And when the hand of God shall speed
A few more generations on,
The very place where once we dwelt
Will be forgotten. Happy once,
I kept no barren hearth at home;
Not mine the hungry acres then
Of Thessaly. But now I'm called
To Trachin's rough and stony land, 135
To ridges parched and jungle-set,
To groves which e'en the mountain goat
Would not inhabit. But, perchance,
Some milder fate the captives calls.
Then will they see the Inachus,
Whose rapid waves shall bear them on,
Or dwell within Dircaean walls 140
Where flows Ismenus' scanty stream—
And where was once the mother wed
Of mighty Hercules.
False is that tale of doubled night,
When overlong the stars delayed
Within the skies, and Hesperus
In place of Lucifer arose,
And Delia with tardy car 145
Kept back the sun. What Scythian crag
Begot thee, or what stony mount?
Like some wild Titan wast thou born
On Rhodope, or Athos rough?
What savage beast on Caspian shores,
What spotted tigress, suckled thee? 150
Impervious to wounds is he.
Sharp spears are blunted, steel is bent
Against his heart; and glittering swords,
Upon his naked members struck,
In broken fragment drop apart;
Stones strike, but harmlessly rebound.