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And give me up to death. But first, O sire,
Approve thy son. This day at least shall show
That I am worthy of the skies. All deeds
Which I have done before seem worthless now; 1715
This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn."
When he had spoken thus he called for fire:
"Come hither now, comrade of Hercules,
With willing hand take up the funeral torch.
Why (lost thou tremble? Does thy timid hand
Shrink from the deed as from an impious crime?
Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak. 1720
Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow?
Why does such pallor sit upon thy checks?
Come, ply the torch with that same fortitude
That thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take,
Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death.
But lo, my father calls me from the sky
And opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!" 1725
And as he spake his face was glorified.
Then did I with my trembling hand apply
The blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back,
And will not touch his limbs. But Hercules
Pursues the fleeing fires. You would suppose
That Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze, 1730
Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heard
Save only that the flames made loud lament.
O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placed
Upon that pyre, or bold Enceladus,
Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back,
He would have groaned aloud in agony. 1735
But Hercules amidst the roaring flames
Stood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze,
And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for thee
Beside the pyre of Hercules to stand.
Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seem
In very truth Alcides' mother." There, 1740
'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood,
Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain,
Encouraging, advising, active still.