Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/256

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Weep and lament thy fate. 585
How often have we played with thee
In Acheloüs' shallow pools,
When now the swollen floods of spring
Had passed away, and gently now,
Withi graceful sweep, the river ran;
When mad Lycormas ceased to roll 590
His headlong waters on.
How oft have we, a choral band,
To Pallas' altars gone with thee;
How oft in Theban baskets borne 595
The sacred Bacchic mysteries,
When now the wintry stars have fled,
When each third summer calls the sun;
And when, the sacred rites complete
To Ceres, queen of golden grain,
Eleusin hides her worshipers
Within her mystic cave.
Now too, whatever fate thou fear'st, 600
Accept us as thy trusted friends;
For rare is such fidelity
When better fortune fails.
O thou, who wield'st the scepter's power,
Whoe'er thou art, though eagerly
The people throng within thy courts, 605
And press for entrance at thy doors;
And though the crowds press thick about
Where'er thou tak'st thy way: be sure
That in so many seeming friends,
Scarce one is true.
Erinys keeps the gilded gate;
And when the great doors swing apart, 610
Then cunning treachery creeps in
And fraud, and murderous dagger points.
Whene'er thou think'st to walk abroad,
Base envy as thy comrade goes.
As often as the morning dawns
Be sure a king from fear of death 615
Has been delivered. Few there are