Upon his shoulders bore me, and, mid-stream,
With rude hands touched me. And I shouted out;
And then the son of Zeus quick turned, and shot
A winged dart, which, whizzing through the breast,
Pierced to the lungs. And then the monster spake
In agony of death thus much: "Ο child
Of Œneus old, if thou wilt list to me,
Some profit of my ferryings thou shalt have,570
Since thee I bore the last. If thou wilt take
The clotted blood that oozes from my wound,
Where the Lernæan hydra, monster dread,
The darts in dark gall dipped, this, this shall be
Thy love-charm o'er the soul of Heracles,
That he shall never look on woman fair,
And love her more than thee." And I, dear friends,
Recalling this, (for, on his death, within
I kept it safely stored,) have dipped this robe,
And added all things that he bade me do,580
While yet he lived; and now 'tis fully done.
Base deeds of daring may I never know,
Nor learn that lesson; those that dare I hate.
But if by love-spells meant for Heracles,
We can in anywise this girl o'ercome,
The thing is planned and done, unless I seem
To you to work in vain; if so, I cease.
Chor. If there be ground for faith in what thou dost,
Thou seem'st to us not badly to have planned.
Deian. Thus stands my faith, I think it probable,590
While yet I have not made experiment.
Chor. But thou should'st know by act, for thinking only
Without a trial gives no certain proof.
Deian. Well, we shall know full soon, for lo! he stands
E'en now outside the door, and quickly comes;
