Place: in front of the house in Trachis where the family of Heracles has settled. One of the side-directions goes to the civic areas of the town, and beyond that to the shore and overseas. The other goes towards Mount Oeta and is only used at the very end of the play.
Deianeira emerges from the house, with an old serving woman in attendance.
There is an age-old saying that
you cannot gauge a human life
as being either good or bad
before a person dies.
But I know well enough, before I ever come near death,
that mine is miserable and burdensome.
While still within my father’s house in Pleuron
I—the worst for any female in Aetolia—was forced
to face a dreadful wedding-match.
I had a river-god, the Achelous,° wooing me.
He came to ask my father for my hand 10
in triple form: sometimes a full-grown bull,
sometimes a coiling serpent,
and sometimes a human torso with a bull below;
and streams of water tumbled down his shaggy beard.°
Confronted with a bridegroom such as this
I prayed and prayed that I might die
before I ever had to lie down in that bed of his.
But just in time, and much to my delight,
great Heracles arrived,
the son of Zeus and Alcmene;°
who took this creature on in battle and delivered me. 20
I could not tell you how the fighting went—
though one who watched it without fear might know—
but as for me, I sat there petrified with dread
that my own beauty might result in agony for me.
Eventually Zeus concluded matters happily—
if happily it was. . . .
For ever since I was awarded to the bed of Heracles,
I’ve lived with fear forever growing out of fear
in my concern for him.
One night brings one anxiety, 30
and then the next displaces it.
Yes, we have children, but he—
like some farmer with an isolated plot of land—
devotes attention to them only at the time
of sowing and of harvest.
That’s the way of life that brings my husband home
only to send him off again—at somebody’s command.°
And now that he has overcome these labours
I’m especially afraid.
For ever since he killed great Iphitus°
we have been living here displaced in Trachis;°
but for him . . . nobody knows where he has gone. 40
I only know that he has left me aching
with a bitter longing.
I am almost sure he’s in distress,
because it’s no short time, but fully fifteen months,
we’ve had no message sent.
And something bad has happened:
that’s the meaning of the written tablet°
that he left me with. I keep on praying to the gods
that that did not spell grief.
(stepping forward ) My mistress Deianeira,
I have often watched your bitter sorrows, 50
weeping for how Heracles has gone away.
If it is ever justified for slaves to give advice
to those free-born, now is the time I should speak out:
since you have got a clutch of sons,°
why don’t you send one off to find out news?
Hyllus would be the most appropriate,
if he cares for his father’s being well regarded.
Hyllus approaches in haste from the ‘local’ side.
And here he is, returning quickly home—
so if you think that my advice is to the point,
this is your chance to urge him on. 60
(to Hyllus) My son, my boy, some good ideas may come
from those of lowly birth—this woman here’s a slave,
yet what she says is worthy of one free.
What do you mean? Instruct me, mother, if you can.
That when your father’s been so long away,
it’s shameful you’ve not tried to find out where he is.
But I already know—at least if we can trust what’s said.
What have you heard of where he is?
If he put up with that, no news will seem incredible.
But now I hear he’s been released from there.
Where is he said to be these days, alive or dead?
Are you aware, my son, that he has left me
with an oracle about this very land?
What sort of message, mother? I’ve not heard of this.
That either he is going to meet the ending of his life,
or else that, after taking on this contest, 80
he shall spend the rest of all his days at peace.°
So since his fate is poised at such a tipping-point,
you ought to go and work along with him,
because if he survives then we shall too—
or else with him we’re lost.
[or else we go down with your father’s death.°]
Then, mother, I shall go.
If I had known the burden of these prophecies,
I would have joined with him before.
But up till now my father’s usual success
allowed us not to worry or to fear too much.
But now I am aware of this, I’ll do the best I can 90
to find out all the truth about these things.
Go then, my son. To learn of good success,
if only late, delivers gain.
Hyllus sets off in the ‘abroad’ direction; Deianeira stays; the chorus comes on from the same side.
°The glimmering night gives birth to you
as she is killed,
and puts you back to sleep in turn
with blaze of gold—
O Sun! Now tell me this one thing,
where’s Heracles,
Alcmena’s son, just where is he?
Tell, dazzling blaze!
Could he be in the east beside
the Black Sea strait:° 100
or west between the pillared continents?
Say, lord of sight!
For Deianeira’s heart, we know,
has bled and bled
with unrelenting, longing pain,
like some sad bird.
She cannot close her yearning eyes,
with tears all dried,
for anxious fear about her man,
so far abroad.
She pines upon her fretful bed
without its mate, 110
and in her misery forebodes
some dreadful fate.
°As on the open sea the waves
come on and on increasing
before the stormy winds from south
or north with blasts unceasing:
like that the heaving ocean swell
of Heracles’ life-toiling
obscures him sometimes down in troughs,
at others lifts his glory.
And yet some god looks after him,
and keeps him safe from tripping, 120
ensuring that he stays above,
where Hades cannot trap him.
With deference, I do not join
in your way of despairing,
since, Deianeira, my advice
is: do not keep on wearing
down hopeful thoughts in anxious gloom.
For Zeus the all-achieving
has not bestowed a pain-free life
upon our mortal being;
no, joy and sorrow come around
for humans in a cycle, 130
as the Great Bear wheels its path
in a revolving circle.
Nothing stays for life in one condition—
not the glimmering night, nor grim perdition,
nor great riches—since upon a sudden
things shift over to another person
to be glad and then ungladdened.
So don’t push this hope away abandoned:
Zeus is never careless of his children. 140
Presumably you’ve heard of my distress,
yet may you never come to know my depth of agony,
but stay, as now, without experience.
The sapling of young life is raised
in its own nursery, protected
from the heat and rain and lashing winds;
and so it grows contented with delight,
until the time when it is called a wife and not a girl.
Then she assumes her share of night-time worry,
filled with fear about her husband or her children. 150
Anyone like that could understand
from her own case the ills I’m burdened with.
I have lamented over many troubles, then;
but there is one, unknown before,
which I should tell you of.
When Heracles was setting off on this last journey,
he left here at home a solemn tablet
all inscribed with writing.
He never had before, as he left on his labours,
laid down matters to me in this way,
but always went as set on action not on death. 160
This time, like one who lives no more, he told me
what I ought to take as property by marriage,
and what portions of ancestral land
should be allotted to his sons.
And he set down a certain time—
that is, when he had been away for fifteen months—
when he was either bound to die,
or else, surviving through that crisis-time,
should spend his life-span free of further pain.
He said this was determined by the gods
to be the outcome of the Heraclean labours, 170
as once spoken by the ancient oak-tree
of Dodona through the pair of Doves.°
The moment for these things to be fulfilled
is now, this present time exactly.
That, dear friends, is why, when I am pleasantly asleep,
I start awake in terrified alarm,
for fear I shall be left bereaved,
the widow of the greatest man of all.
°The old man approaches from the ‘abroad’ direction.
Don’t say such things, since I can see a man
approaching, garlanded like one with joyful things to tell.
My lady Deianeira, I shall be the first 180
to bring the news that frees you from anxiety.
For Heracles is here, alive:
triumphant from his wars he’s bringing home
the choicest offerings for our local gods.°
What’s this you’re telling me, old man?
Your celebrated husband shall be soon arriving
at your house, all glowing with the strength of victory.
Who have you heard this from? A local or a stranger?
The herald Lichas is regaling a whole crowd
down in the Oxen Mead.° When I heard him,
I hurried off to be first to bring you news, 190
and so obtain your favour and reward.
Why’s he not here himself, if he’s so fortunate?
He cannot make much headway, mistress,
since the folk of Malis° are surrounding him,
and asking questions, stopping him from moving on.
Each longs to know and will not let him go
until they’ve heard their fill—
so they do what they want, while he can not.
But you shall soon be seeing him direct.
O Zeus, high lord of Oeta’s uncropped meadow-grass,° 200
you have at long last granted us this joy!
Now, women, raise your cry, both those indoors
and you outside the gate, as we enjoy the light
beyond our hopes that’s glowing with this news.
°Let the marriageable women
halloo° the household chorus;
let the men sing loud to honour
Apollo who cares for us.
Come, you girls, and chant the paean 210
to Artemis to save us—
torch-god, hunter of wild deer—
joined by the Nymphs our neighbours.
See me stirred up by the aulos,°
O you my spirit’s master;
see how Dionysian ivy
can set me whirling faster! 220
Lichas and a band of captive women approach; they include Iole among them.
(to Deianeira) Look on happily, dear mistress,
io paian, I sing you.
See, these things are near approaching
and coming clear in view.
I do see them, dear women, as my watchful eye
had noted this procession coming.
Lichas and company have by now arrived.
I bid you welcome, herald, now you have appeared—
assuming that you bring us welcome news.
We’re glad to be here, and to hear
your greeting, lady, fitting the achievement. 230
For when a man does well, it’s only right
for him to have the benefit of words of praise.
Dear friend, first tell me what I firstly want to know:
am I to welcome Heracles back home alive?
He was alive, when I last left him,
strong and in the best of health.
Where was this? In our homeland or some foreign place?
There is a headland in Euboea, where he’s marking out
an altar to present first offerings to Zeus of Caeneum.°
To carry out some vow? Or following some oracle?
And who are they? And whose are they?
If I’m not wrong about their state, they should be pitied.
When he had sacked Eurytus’ city,
Heracles selected them,
possessions for himself and for the gods.
And was it to attack this city he was gone
for such an unforeseen long time?
Not only that, because for much of it
he was, as he admits, detained in Lydia,
not free but purchased as a slave.
And yet you should not disapprove, dear lady: 250
since it’s clear that Zeus made sure this came about.
[He was sold off to Omphale, the foreign queen,
to serve a whole year long, as he himself admits.°]
He was so stung by this humiliation
that he bound himself by oath
that he would one day make the man
who had subjected him to this a slave,
and take his wife and child° as well.
And he stood by his word: once he was purified,
he raised a foreign army and attacked
the city of Eurytus, on the grounds that he alone 260
had been the man to blame for this disgrace.°
It was like this. One time when he was visiting
his house—as he’d long been a friend—
Eurytus blindly heaped abuse on him.
He claimed that, even though he had those arrows°
that could never miss the mark,
he was inferior to his own sons in proper archery.
He called him slave, cowed by a free man’s word;
and then, when Heracles was drunk one night,
he had him thrown out from the house.
He was made furious by this,
and so, when Iphytus° arrived one day at Tiryns, 270
trying to track down his straying horses,
while he was distracted by his searching,
Heracles dispatched him off the platform of a tower.
It was because of this one deed
that mighty father Zeus was so incensed
that he exported him abroad for sale:
because this once he’d killed a man by trickery.°
If he’d retaliated openly,
Zeus would have pardoned him
because he would have justly thrown him down—
the gods detest such insolent behaviour as well. 280
And so Eurytus and his sons,
who’d been so overbearing with their words,
are all now lodged in Hades’ house,
their town enslaved.
These women that you see in front of you
have had their lives degraded from prosperity.
And they have come to you,
as this is what your husband ordered,
and obedient to him I’ve done as told.
As for the man himself, as soon as he has made
his holy offerings to his father Zeus for victory,
you may be sure he will be here.
From this whole happy story,
that’s the sweetest news for you to hear. 290
So now, my lady, your full joy is clear to see,
some here before you, some the news of what’s to come.
I surely should be rightly glad on hearing
of this glorious exploit by my husband—
as of course my feelings should keep pace.
But, all the same, a person who thinks deep
about these things is bound to fear
that those who have success might one day trip.
This is because a piercing pity has, dear friends,
come over me from looking on these wretched women.
They have lost their homes and fathers 300
and are helpless in a foreign land.
Before this time they may have been
the daughters of free citizens,
but now they have a life of slavery.
O Zeus of battles, how I hope I’ll never see
you turn against a child of mine like this.
[—or if you do, then not with me alive.°]
These fears of mine are stirred by seeing them.
She approaches Iole, the prisoner who is conspicuous.
Poor creature, who are you among these girls?
Unmarried? Or have you a child? (no response)
Your manner seems to say you’re not experienced
in all these things°—and that you are of noble birth.
(turns to Lichas) Lichas, whose daughter is this stranger? 310
Who her mother, who the father that begot her?
Please tell me, since I pity her the most on seeing her,
as she alone knows what to feel.°
Why should I know? Why question me?
She may have been of quite high birth among them there.
Might she be royal? Did Eurytus have a daughter?
Don’t know. I didn’t press too far with questions.
Have you not learnt her name from her companions?
Far from it. I have done my job in silence.
Tell me, poor woman, tell me for yourself. 320
I am unhappy at not knowing who you are. (no response)
It will be very different from the past if she does speak;
she hasn’t said a single word,
but in the depths of grief has only kept on weeping
ever since she left the towers of her native town.
Her state is wretched, but we should be understanding.
Let her alone, then; she can go in as she likes,
without yet more distress from me— 330
she has enough already.
Now let us all proceed indoors,
so you can hasten on to where you wish,
and I can manage things in there.
°Lichas and the slave women go in; the old man intervenes to stop Deianeira from following.
Stay here a little, though, so you can learn,
without them here, just who these are
you’re letting in your house; and find out matters
you should know, but have not heard.
Yes, I know all about these things.
What’s this? Why stop me when I’m on my way?
Just stay and listen. What you heard from me before 340
was not a waste of time—it won’t be now, I think.
So should I fetch them back out here?
Or do you want to tell just me and these ones here?
There is no need to be constrained
with you and them—just let the others be.
They’ve all gone in. So tell us what you have to say.
There’s not one thing this man has just declared
that’s strictly truthful: either he is lying now,
or else what he reported earlier was false.
What? Say what you have in mind—
I have no notion what you’re telling me. 350
I heard this herald say in front of lots of witnesses
that it was all because of this young woman
Heracles destroyed Eurytus and his citadel Oechalia.
And Eros° was the only god who lured him to this war—
nothing to do with Lydians, or servitude to Omphale,
or Iphytus hurled down to death.
But now he’s pushed Eros aside and tells another tale.
The truth is that, when he could not persuade her father
to give up the girl to be his secret mistress, 360
he devised a trivial pretext to invade her country,
claiming that Eurytus was a mere usurper there;
and so he killed her father° and destroyed her city.
And now, you see, he’s coming, and has sent her
to this very house, not randomly,
not as a slave—no, don’t imagine that:
that’s hardly likely since he’s molten with desire.°
That’s why I thought it only right, my lady,
to reveal all this that I found out from him. 370
And lots of other people heard it too, the same as me,
there in the central meeting-place of the Trachinians;
so you can put this to the proof.
I’m sorry if what I report is far from nice,
but all the same this is the way it was.
O god, what is my situation now?
What is this hidden torment
that I’ve let in underneath my roof, poor fool?
So she is nameless, is she, then,
as he who brought her swore?
—this girl so striking in her manner and her looks.
She is the true-born daughter of Eurytus, 380
Iole by name.
That man could not tell you her birth—
because he hadn’t asked indeed!
Of all the wrong behaviour I deplore,
worst is the man who breaks his trust deceitfully.
Women, what should I do?
I’m shattered by the things I’ve heard.
Go ask the man himself. He might well tell the truth
if you can force him with strong questioning.
Yes, I shall go. What you advise me makes good sense.
Are we to wait out here? What should we do? 390
Don’t move; here comes the man out from the house,
and of his own accord, not fetched by me.
Lichas has entered as about to set off.
My lady, what am I to say to Heracles?
Instruct me since I am, as you can see, about to leave.
How hastily you’re on your way,
before there has been time
for us to go on with our conversation.
Well, if there’s anything you want to ask, I’m at your service.
And will you tell the whole and honest truth?
I shall, so far as I can know it—
may high Zeus confirm my words.
Well then, who is that woman that you brought? 400
She is Euboean—who her parents were I cannot say.
°The Old Man intervenes.
Hey, look this way: who d’you think you’re speaking with?
And who are you to question me like this?
If you have any sense, then answer what I ask.
To lady Deianeira, then, unless my eyes deceive me,
child of Oeneus, wife of Heracles,
and my own sovereign mistress.
And that is why I wanted to make sure:
you say she is your sovereign?
And rightly so.
Well, how should you be punished then, 410
if you are caught out wrongly treating her?
What wrongly? Why are you distorting things like this?
I’m not. It’s you who’s doing that.
I’m off. I’ve been a fool to keep on paying you attention.
No. Not before you’ve faced a simple question.
Go on then if you like. You are not one for keeping quiet!
That prisoner, the woman that you took inside—
you surely know the one I mean?
I do. Why ask me this?
Did you not say this woman that you brought—
don’t look as though you do not know!—
was Iole, the daughter of Eurytus? 420
Said in what company? Can you find anyone
to witness that they heard the thing you claim?
The citizens of Trachis, crowds of them,
were in the local meeting-place, and heard these things.
O yes, they may have said they heard,
but passing on impression’s not exact reporting.
What do you mean ‘impression’?
Did you not declare on oath that you were bringing her
for Heracles to have as his bed-mate?
Me say ‘to have as his bed-mate’?
Dear mistress, tell me who on earth this stranger is. 430
One who was there and heard you saying
that her city was destroyed entirely by his wanting her;
that it was not the Lydian queen who brought it down in ruin,
but his passionate desire for her, this girl.
Please, mistress, tell this person to depart.
Someone of good sense should not
waste time disputing with a lunatic.
Do not, by Zeus whose lightning strikes
the mountain glens of Oeta,
do not tell me false tales.
It’s not some vicious woman that you’re talking to,
nor one who’s ignorant of how we humans are,
and how it’s not our nature to stay constant
with the same delights for ever. 440
Whoever tries to pick a fight with Eros,
as if entering some boxing-match,
is acting like a fool.
For Eros lords it over even gods just as he likes—
and over me; and surely so another just like me.°
So if I were to hold my husband as to blame
for having caught this fever, I’d be mad.
And I can’t blame this woman,
who’s not responsible for something shameful,
nor for any malice aimed at me. Impossible.
So, if he has instructed you to lie,
then that is not an admirable lesson: 450
and if you’ve taught yourself like this,
then, though you might have hoped to be well spoken of,
you shall be looked upon as a disgrace.
So let me have the truth in full—
for a free man to be notorious as a liar
is a deadly mark of shame.
And it’s impossible for you to get away with this,
since many that you spoke to will tell me the same.
And if you’re acting out of fear for me, that fear is wrong,
because it’s not the knowing that will give me pain.
What is so terrible in knowing?°
°Heracles has been to bed 460
with many, many women, hasn’t he?
And yet not one of them has had to face
abuse or blame from me.
Nor shall this one, not even if he’s utterly
consumed in his desire for her.
I felt a special pang of pity for her on first sight,
because her beauty has undone her life,
and has against her will demolished
and enslaved her fatherland.
Let all of that, though, sail off with the wind,
but you, I tell you this: while you may wrong another,
always tell the truth with me.
Listen to this good advice. You’ll never find 470
good cause to fault this lady; and you’ll earn my thanks.
I see, dear mistress, that you think
in human terms, and not inflexibly;
and so I’ll tell you all the truth without concealment.
Yes, it happened just as this man says:
a fearsome passion for this woman
thrilled through Heracles.
It was for her sake that her native city of Oechalia
was conquered and reduced to ruins.
And, to be just to him, he never told me
to conceal this, nor denied it: 480
that was all my fault, for fear of causing
your heart pain by telling the whole story—
if you regard that as a fault.
But now you do know everything,
I ask you for his sake, and for your own as well:
to be considerate towards this woman
by resolving to make good those words
you spoke concerning her.
You see, the man who has exerted supreme power
in everything has been completely conquered
by his passion for this girl.
Well, that is what I mean to do, 490
and not inflict an added sickness on myself
by struggling against the gods.
Now let us go inside, so you can be entrusted
with the message that I send, and take the gifts
I should contribute in return for gifts.
It would be wrong for you to go back empty-handed,
when you’ve come with such a splendid retinue.°
They go inside, except for the old man, who slips away.
Aphrodite has great might;
she always wins the prize.
I leave aside the tales of gods,
and how she took in Zeus, 500
and Hades and Poseidon too,
the god who shakes the ground.
But telling of this bridal-bed,°
which rivals took their stand?
Who entered in the ring
to win the marriage-prize,
landing blows with raining fists
and dust raised to the skies?
One was a mighty river-god,
a bull with threatening horns,
Achelous from Oini- 510
adai, four-legged in his form.
The other, armed with bending bow
and spears, from bacchic Thebes,°
shaking his great club, the son
of Zeus, great Heracles.
So they clashed together then,
both longing for her bed;
as umpire in between them came
sweet Cypris of the bed.
Then there was a battering
of fists and of arrows,
and there was a clattering
of horns struck in battle;
there were grips, and locking 520
limbs entwined in wrestling;
there was deadly crack of
heads, both of them straining.
While all through this the maiden
sat on a hill above them
looking down awaiting,
delicately lovely,
to see which one would bed her—
face all pale with panic,
trophy of the battle,
such a sight of pity.
Suddenly she’s parted
from her mother’s hold,
heifer separated
from her childhood herd. 530
Deianeira comes back out by herself, carrying a metal casket.
I’ve slipped out secretly to you, dear women,
while our visitor is talking to those
captive girls indoors before he goes.
I want to tell you of the action that I have in hand,
and seek your sympathy for what I’m going through.
I have, you see, let in a girl—
and yet no more a simple girl, I think,
a fully harnessed woman—
I’ve taken her on board,
the way a merchant stows a cargo;
but these goods will wreck my peace of mind.
And now the two of us shall lie
beneath a single coverlet, 540
and wait to see which one he will embrace.
Is this the kind of payment
that the so-called good and trusty Heracles
has sent me in return for caring for his house
through such a stretch of time?
I am not able to be angry with him
when he is afflicted with so virulent a fever,
yet what woman could bear living with her here,
and share in one man’s making love?
I am aware how youth for one of us
is coming into bloom, and fading from the other;
and how men’s eyes will turn from that
and want to pluck the flower.
And so my fear is that, while Heracles will be550
in name my husband,
he shall really be the younger woman’s male.
And yet, I say again, a woman of good sense
should not be ruled by anger;
so I’ll tell you, friends, about the plan°
I have in mind to solve this situation.
°I have a present given to me long ago
by a primeval creature,
which I have kept secret in a flask of bronze.
I was still young when I first got it,
scooped up from the blood of Nessus as he died.
He was a shaggy-breasted Centaur,
and would ferry people for a price
across the swirling torrent of Euinos.
He used no boat with oars or sails, 560
but carried them himself. And so with me,
back when my father sent me on my way
as Heracles’ new-bedded bride.
This Nessus hoisted me upon his shoulders.°
but once I was mid-stream,
he starts to touch me lustfully.
I screamed.
And Heracles turned round at once,
and sent a flighted arrow humming
deep into his chest.
Then with his dying breaths the creature said:
‘Now, daughter of old Oineus, follow my advice
and then at least you’ll get this benefit 570
out of my ferrying you—
because you were the last of all my passengers.
Collect the clots of blood from round my wound,
where they are blackened by the arrow-venom
cultured from the Lerna Hydra’s fangs.°
This will then work for you as an enchantment
over Heracles to make quite sure
that he shall never love the sight
of any woman over you.’
I’ve thought of this, dear friends,
as ever since his death I’ve kept it
tightly shut away at home,
and have applied the substance 580
to this garment,° in the way he told me when alive.
And now that is completed.
I hope that I may never know or learn dark practices;
and I hate women who experiment with them:
but if I can in some way make this potion
work on Heracles with charms that will outbid
this girl, well then, the process has been set in place.
Unless you think I’m doing something crazed . . . ?
in that case I shall stop at once.
As long as you are confident that this will work,
then we believe your plan is sound.
I’m confident in my belief it will, 590
but I have never tested it in practice.
Then you’re about to do so,
since you can’t be sure except by trying it.
We’ll soon find out, as I can see him by the door,
and he will soon be on his way.
I only beg of you to keep my plan a secret.
If you try out something dubious, but keep it in the dark,
you’ll never come down in disgrace.
Enter Lichas.
Please tell me, Deianeira, what I should be doing—
we’re already lagging well behind our time.
That is the very thing I have been seeing to, 600
while you were in there talking with those women:
here, this is a woven robe for you to take for me,
a gift for that great man prepared by my own hand.
She hands him the casket.
And when you give it to him, tell him clearly
that no one should put it on before he does;
and that no light of sun or altar-flame
or heat from hearth should shine on it—
until he stands conspicuous in view
and shows it to the gods upon a sacrificial day.
This is because I made a vow that, 610
if I ever saw or heard he’d come safe home,
then I would deck him in this robe
and so present him to the gods,
a brand new ministrant in new attire.
And you must take and show this seal upon these things,
one he will recognize, made by this signet ring.
Now go; and on the way respect the rule
that intermediaries should never interfere too much;
then you’ll make sure of double gratitude
from him and me combined.
I’ll faithfully perform the craft of Hermes, 620
and make no mistake in taking him this casket as it is,
along with your instructions.
You may depart now that you have intelligence
of how things are within the house.
Yes, and I’ll tell him how they’ve been secured.
You know of that, because you saw yourself
the way the stranger-woman was received
and how I gave her friendly welcome.
I did; and I was pleasantly surprised.
Lichas begins to set off in the ‘abroad’ direction.
What more is there for you to say? 630
I am afraid it is too soon to speak
of how I long for him, before I know
if I am longed for from that side.°
Deianeira goes inside.
°All you who live about the thermal springs,
between the heights of Oeta and the anchorage
and gulf of Malis and the shore of Artemis,
site where the Greeks hold celebrated gatherings—
Thermopylae, the Gate of the Hot Springs—°
for you the pipes shall lift above their sound, 640
yes soon, fit for the gods in harmony,
to greet the son of Zeus and Alcmene,
as he is hastening homeward bound
and brings his prizes all triumphantly.
He’s been distant from our land
while we’ve waited twelve long months;
far away across the sea,
us left in ignorance.
His devoted wife has wept, 650
worn away her heart in grief:
now, though, Ares frenzied° has
brought her pain-filled days relief.
May he come, yes, may he come;
may his vessel’s many oars
make no stop until he lands
here upon this city’s shores.
From Euboea° where we hear
he lights sacrificial fire,
let him come cloaked in the robe 660
which arouses his desire.°
Deianeira comes back out in haste.
I’m terrified, dear women, that I may have
gone too far in all that I did recently.
What is it, lady Deianeira?
I can’t be sure, but I’m afraid it may emerge that
from my hoping for the best I’ve done great harm.
You don’t mean from your gift for Heracles?
Yes, that. And now I would advise that hasty action
is mistaken when the aim is far from clear. 670
Tell, if you can, what makes you feel such fear.
A thing has happened that will strike you,
when I tell you, with astonishment.
I used a hank of white sheep’s wool
for smearing on the robe, and . . . it’s disappeared—
not cleared away by something in the house,
but more corroded from inside itself,
so that it’s crumbled into nothing on the floor.
Let me explain more fully to you how it was.
I missed out none of the instructions 680
that the Centaur creature gave me
while the bitter barbs convulsed his frame,
but followed them as close as if they had
been carved indelibly upon a plaque of bronze.
These were his orders which I carried out:
I was to keep the potion always stored secure
away from fire and from the warming rays of sun,
until I should apply it fresh somewhere.
All that I’d done; and now the time had come,
I smeared it on in secret deep inside the house.
For this I used a hank of wool shorn from our flock; 690
and folded up the gift, and put it
well away from any gleam of sun
inside the lidded casket, as you saw.
Then, as I went back in, I saw a thing, unspeakable,
a sight beyond all human understanding.
I happened to have thrown that piece of wool down
where it lay in bright light from the sun.
[the sheep’s wool used to smear there into flaming glare]°
As it grew warm, it lost its substance,
and disintegrated into crumbs upon the ground—
the thing it looked most like is saw-dust 700
that you see left where a man’s been cutting wood.
As it lay there, the ground from underneath
came boiling up and spewed a kind of curdled foam,
most like the froth of grape-must, pressed out
from the purple fruit, when poured upon the ground.
I’m at a loss to know where I should turn my thoughts—
I realize I have done a fearful thing.
For why on earth should he . . . ?
What reason had the creature in the throes of death
to do me any kindness, when it was
because of me that he was dying?
It can only be that he bewitched me 710
so that he could kill the man who’d shot him dead.
And now, too late, when it’s no use,
I come to realize this.
Unless my thoughts turn out quite false,
then I alone am going to prove the death of him.
I know the Hydra’s venom on those arrow-barbs
caused even Cheiron° agony, although he was divine;
they mean sure death for any creature that they touch.
So this dark poison welling from that wound
is bound to kill this man as well—is that not so?
That’s what I think; and so I have made up my mind
that, if he falls, then I shall die in that same swoop. 720
For any woman naturally noble
it would be unbearable to live on in disgrace.
Such dreadful things are bound to stir up fears,
but don’t despair before you know what’s happened.
For those who’ve made disastrous judgements
there’s no hope that carries any confidence.
When people make mistakes, but not deliberately,
then anger is less harsh—as it should be with you.
Somebody not involved might say such things,
but not a person whose whole life is burdensome. 730
Better not to go on saying more—unless you want
your son to hear, since here comes Hyllus,
who had set out earlier to find his father.
Enter Hyllus from ‘abroad’.
O mother, how I wish for one of these:
that either you were dead;
or, if alive, you had been someone else’s mother;
or somehow you could exchange your heart for better.
What is it, son, that you so hate in me?
Your husband, yes I mean my father,
you today, this very day, have killed him. 740
Ah, what is this you tell me, child?
A thing that’s bound to come about,
since how can anyone make something
that’s already clearly there not happen after all?
What, child? Who gave you information
leading you to say I’ve done a thing so horrible?
I’ve seen my father’s gruesome fate with my own eyes—
not heard about it from another’s talk.
Where did you find and join with him?
Well, if you have to know, I’ll tell you everything.
When he had sacked Eurytus’ famous citadel, 750
he’d brought his trophies and first-fruits of victory
and reached the sea-lashed headland
of Euboea called Cenaeum.°
He was there marking out a sanctuary and grove
devoted to his father Zeus; and that is where
I saw him first again, glad after missing him.
As he was just about to celebrate
a splendid sacrifice, his herald Lichas came from home
and brought your gift for him, the cloak of death.
He put this on, as you’d instructed him,
and then he sacrificed first-offerings,
a dozen flawless bulls, selected from 760
the hundred various animals he had assembled there.
At first, poor man, he offered prayers
with cheerful spirits, glorying in his splendid robe.
But as the blood-red flames flared
from the offerings and from the glowing oak,
a sweat broke out upon his skin,
and, tightly sticking, it began to cling
about his frame at every joint,
like drapery carved by a sculptor’s hand.°
A gnawing pain began to wrack his bones, 770
and then a deadly poison, like the venom
from some snake, began to eat away at him.
At this he shouted out for Lichas
—though the wretch was no way guilty of your crime—
and asked what plot had made him bring this robe.
And he replied, in ignorance, it was a gift
from you and you alone, exactly as it had been sent.
As he heard this a piercing spasm
gripped his breast; he got a grip on Lichas
by the socket of his ankle joint,
and hurled him down to where he fell
upon a rock that stuck out from the sea.° 780
His skull was splintered and his creamy brains
all mixed with blood were spattered round.
The people there all cried aloud in horror
at the frenzied man and at his shattered victim.
No one dared to come near Heracles,
as he was twisting down and up with pain,
convulsing, shouting, screaming out;
and all the crags around resounded
from the hills of Locris° to the headlands of Euboea.
He hurled himself upon the ground repeatedly,
repeatedly cried out in agony, 790
and railed against the deadly marriage-bed
that he had joined with you,
the union made for him by Oeneus,
which had proved the ruination of his life.
And after this his frantic eye ranged
through the clinging sacrificial smoke and lit on me
as I stood weeping there among the crowd.
Then looking straight at me he called:
‘Come near, my son; do not turn from my sorry state,
but, if needs must, then die along with me.
Now take me up away from here, and leave me
where no other human can set eyes on me. 800
Or, if you pity me, at least convey me from this place
quick as you can; don’t let me die right here.’
We followed this command and set him in a boat,
and with great trouble rowed him,
groaning in his spasms, to this land.
And very soon you’ll see him for yourself,
alive or just this moment dead.
These, mother, are the schemes and acts
against my father that you are convicted of.
For this may vengeful Justice and the Erinys°
now punish you.
If it is rightful, that’s the curse I lay on you—
and it is right, since you have thrown away your right. 810
You’ve killed the greatest man of all upon the earth,
whose like we shall not see again.
°Deianeira turns and goes indoors without a word.
Why turn away in silence? Don’t you realize
your silence argues for the prosecutor’s case?
No, let her go.
I hope the wind may whisk her from my sight.
What point is there in holding high the name of mother
when her deeds are so unlike a mother’s?
So away she goes—farewell to her!
I hope she may enjoy the same delights
as she has given to my father! 820
Hyllus departs indoors.
°You see this, girls, how suddenly
there has come to pass
fulfilment of the prophecy
from the distant past?
It claimed twelve years° of ploughshare-time
would have run their course
before the end of labours came
for the son of Zeus.
Time has steered that to its port
truly as it said:
for how could someone take on more
labours if they’re dead? 830
°So if compulsion rakes at him
through the Centaur’s tricks,
surrounding him with deadly mist
as the poison sticks—
the poison which Death brought about,
brewed with serpent’s bite—
how could he possibly still see
another day’s sunlight—
glued in the Hydra’s fatal cloak
bristling with its goads,
and stirred by Nessus’ deadly trick
through his seething words? 840
She, poor woman, felt no constraint,
since she foresaw great harm
from his newly-joined union
bearing down on her home.
Part she brought about herself;
part came through ideas she learnt
from that deadly encounter’s lure.
Crying bitter lament
she must surely be shedding tears,
tender dew on her cheeks.
Fate approaching reveals deceit
as calamity breaks. 850
So the tears come pouring out
as his poisoning flows,
suffering more pitiable
than his enemies’ blows.
Such disaster has been won
by his spear’s bloodstained blade,
rushing from Oechalia
this newly-bedded bride
Cypris has been exposed behind 860
all these happenings here,
organizing them wordlessly—
now seen all too clear.
A distressed cry is heard from inside.
°Unless I’m wrong I heard just then
a sound of sorrow from inside the house.
(another cry)
What’s this?
That cry was clearly one of anguished grief;
it means that something’s happened there indoors.
The old serving woman comes out sorrowfully.
And look here, this old woman’s coming out to us,
her face all sad and overcast. What can she tell? 870
That gift, my girls, the one packed off to Heracles,
has been the start of mighty griefs.
What new has happened then, old woman?
Deianeira has embarked upon her final journey,
yet she has not moved a step.
You can’t mean she is dead?
You’ve heard it all.
She is already gone?
You heard before.
Poor woman! Say what way she died?
By a most dreadful act.
Tell us, old woman, how she met her end. 880
A sword thrust to the heart.
What impulse, what affliction struck her dead?
How did she come to take that deadly blade?
How face the iron of that cruel sword?
How all alone was death on death contrived?
Did your eyes see the brutal way she died?
Yes, I did see, as I was standing near.
What happened? Tell us that. 890
She made her own hand turn against herself.
What are you saying?
Simple truth.
Too true, too true. And if you had been there
and witnessed what she did, then your compassion
would be yet more deeply felt.
And could a woman steel her hand to this?
She could, and terribly.
I’ll tell you to confirm my story.
When she had gone all by herself into the house, 900
she saw her son there in the courtyard
laying out a low-slung stretcher
so he could return and meet his father.
[then she shut herself away from sight°]
First she knelt before the altars
crying for the way that they would be deserted;
then went weeping as she put her hands
on all the household objects
that she used to use before.
She ranged this way and that throughout the house,
and when she met with some familiar servant,
she would weep in sorrow as she gazed at them,
lamenting both her own misfortune, 910
and the house bereft for evermore.
When she had done with that,
she rushed abruptly to the bedroom
that she used to share with Heracles—
I had a hidden view of this and watched it all.
I saw her spread the coverlets upon his bed;
when that was done, she got up onto it,
and settled sitting there.
As she wept streams of scalding tears,
she said, ‘Farewell, my bed, my wedding-bed, 920
goodbye for evermore.
You never shall enfold me here again.’
And then with one firm movement,
she undid her dress from where the golden brooch
was pinning it above her breasts,
and bared the whole of her left shoulder and her side.
At this I ran with all the haste I could
to warn her son of her determination;
but within the time between my going and return,
she had, we saw, impaled her side 930
upon a sword and stabbed herself right to the heart.
Her son cried at this sight, because he’d come
to see how in his anger he had blamed her
for that crime; and now, too late, he’d learnt
from servants that unknowingly,
but worked on by the Centaur, she had done all this.
The poor boy then was struck with overwhelming grief,
and kept on weeping, planting kisses,
and he threw himself down side by side.
He bitterly lamented how he’d falsely 940
laid such damning blame on her,
and how he now would have to live bereft
of both of them, his father and her too.
So that is how things are; and anyone who counts
on two or more clear days ahead must be a fool,
because, until you’re safely through today,
there can be no tomorrow.
The old serving woman goes back inside.
Which of these should I lament for first?
which of these disasters is the worse?
For me that is not easy to decide.
One is here in view within the house: 950
one is close, awaited in suspense.
To have and to expect are side by side.
If only a following wind
would carry me far from this land
before the immediate sight
of Heracles kills me with fright.
We hear he’s returning again,
wracked with unbearable pain,
back to his dwelling-place here— 960
a vision too awful to bear.
A procession carrying Heracles on a stretcher, led by an old attendant, approaches slowly from the ‘abroad’ direction.
So they were not far off, but nearby,
when I shrilled the nightingale’s cry—
look, here come some men from abroad.
Why bring him like this? With soft tread
they noiselessly carry him here,
like mourners for someone who’s dear.
He’s silent; how should we decide
if he’s sleeping or if he is dead? 970
Hyllus comes out from the house just as the procession arrives.
Not so loud, son. Do not stir your
father’s fierce and savage torment—
he’s alive but is not conscious.
Bite your lip and keep your voice down.
So, old man, he is still living?
Don’t disturb him from the sleep that
holds him; don’t arouse the dreadful
fits of pain that leap upon him. 980
But I’m overwhelmed with sorrow,
and my mind cannot restrain it.
Zeus, what country have I come to?
Who are these around, me lying
wasted by relentless torment?
(with cries of pain)
Ah, again!
Ah, the guzzling pest devours me.
Was I wrong to warn you it was
better to hold back in silence,
not to scatter sleep, and wake his
mind and eyes to full awareness? 990
Yet I could not—I can’t bear to
look upon this depth of torment.
O you altar, standing high on
Cape Cenaeum, such the thanks that
you have earned me in return for
all my sacrifices offered—
hear me, Zeus!
Such, such the damage
that you have inflicted on me.
How I wish I’d never seen you!
Then I never would have had to
face this lethal rash of madness.
Where’s the chanter, where the 1000
skilful healer who could soothe down
this disaster—Zeus excepted?
Finding that would be a marvel!
The old attendant tries to make Heracles comfortable.
°Let me be, O let me be,
leave me sleeping wretchedly!
Stop that touching, turning me!
Deadly, you are killing me!
Such pain as had been calmed
you have re-inflamed.
It’s got a grasp on me; it’s creeping up again. 1010
Where have you gone, you most ungrateful Greeks?
I, who laboured ceaselessly to purge the wide world,
both sea-depths and forests! Yet now in the pit of my pain
is there nobody able to free me with fire or with iron?
(with cries of pain)
Won’t someone strike my neck for me,
and finish hateful life for me?
This task here has become too stubborn for my strength.
You, his son, should share this burden; you are born younger,
and can take more weight. 1020
Here are my hands to help,
yet I possess no power to relieve his life or to obliterate
his agony, inside or out. It’s Zeus assigns such things.
O my son, where are you, where?
Here, yes, here, lay hold of me;
lift me up, but lift with care.
It leaps, leaps, destroying me.
The menace, unapproachable,
preys on me, savage, cruel. 1030
Ah, ah, Athena,° here it is mangling me once more!
Feel pity for your father: draw out your sword, my son—
your blade will be blame-free—stab by my breast-bone here.
Heal this hellish pain maddened by your damned mother.
I long to see her fall just as she has laid me low
Sweet Hades, brother to Zeus, 1040
bring me sleep—end me, please—
with swift-swooping release.
I shudder as I hear our master’s sufferings—
for one so great to be tormented by such pain.
Many and perilous the labours I have undertaken
with my hands and carried on my back;
and yet not even Zeus’ wife, nor loathed Eurystheus,°
have imposed on me a thing as cruel as this one
that the temptress child of Oeneus has enveloped 1050
round my shoulders, this fine-woven web
of the Erinyes, which is destroying me.
It has plastered fast around my ribs,
and has devoured my inmost flesh,
sucked out the channels of my breath;
it’s gulped my living blood, and my whole body
is corroded by this overpowering cloak.
Not open battle, nor the earth-born forces
of the Giants,° not savage monsters,
nor anything in Greek or foreign lands, 1060
no country that I visited to purify—
none ever could do this.
And yet a woman, an unmanly female, she
has single-handedly defeated me without a sword.
(turns to Hyllus) My son, now show yourself to be my son in truth,
and do not rate the claim of ‘mother’ as superior.
With your own hands go fetch her here outside
and place her in my hands.
Then I can know for certain which you feel for more:
my tortured body, or else hers as it gets justly mangled.
Hyllus stays motionless.
Come, boy, endure it,1070
pity me, most pitiable, reduced to weeping
like some girl—no one could say before
that they have seen me brought to this.
No—I used to bear all pains without complaint,
but now instead of that I am shown up as feminine.
Now come and stand beside your father here,
so you can see the kind of ways I’m suffering—
I’ll show you how without concealment here.
He throws off his covering.
There, all of you, look on my wretched body,
witness what a pitiable state I’m in. 1080
(cries of pain)
This scorching pain is searing
through my frame again;
this ravening plague it seems
will never let me get outside its strangling grip.
Take me, lord Hades;
strike me, lightning from great Zeus;
hurl down your thunderbolt and shatter me.
Because it’s eating me again,
it’s breaking out,
it’s in full flood.
O hands, my hands,and back and breast and trusty arms! 1090
°It was with these, with you, that I once overcame
with naked strength the settler in Nemea,
curse of shepherds, creature unapproachable
and unassailable, the Lion.
With you the Hydra-snakes at Lerna;
and the crew of isolated Centaurs,
double-natured with their horses’ legs—
reckless, lawless, overbearing.
And you overcame the Erymanthian beast;
and that three-headed hound of Hades down below,
unbeatable monstrosity, the whelp of dread Echidna;
and the serpent that kept guard around
the golden apples at the furthest reaches of the world. 1100
I’ve taken on innumerable other quests,
and yet not one has triumphed over me,
and proved superior to my strength.
But now I’m devastated by this creeping plague,
disjointed, lacerated into shreds—
yes me, proclaimed the son of noblest mother,
and reputed as the child of starry Zeus.
Be sure of this, though: even if reduced to nothing,
even if immobile, I shall still close tight my grip
on her who has done this.
Just let her near me: then she shall be taught
to tell the world that still in death, as life, 1110
I’ve made the wicked suffer punishment.
Unhappy Greece, what grief I can foresee
if you’re to be bereft of this man here.
Now that you let me offer some response,
please hear me, even in your sickness,
since I ask for what in justice should be granted.
Give me your attention, and do not allow
your pain to keep your anger still so biting;
otherwise you can not know how your resentment
and desiring for revenge is a mistake.
Say what you want and then be done. 1120
In my ill state I can’t work out your subtleties.
I’m going to tell you of my mother’s case:
how she is now,
and how she did not purposely do wrong.
What? How dare you speak within my hearing
of the mother who has killed your father?
Because it’s wrong to keep unspoken how she fares.
Yes, very wrong to hide her evil-doings in the past.
And you shall say the same about her deeds today.
Then tell me, but don’t prove a treacherous son.
I’ll tell you straight: she’s dead, just newly killed. 1130
Who killed her? This must be a sign, though sinister.
She did it to herself—with no one else involved.
Damn her! Before I could kill her myself, as should have been.
Even your fury would change course if you knew all.
So tell me what you mean by this strange start.
She did a dreadful wrong, and yet she had meant well.
What kind of doing well is murdering your father?
Mistakenly she thought she had a love-charm over you—
once she had seen the lover you’d brought home.
And who in Trachis could dispense a drug so strong? 1140
Nessus the Centaur° long ago persuaded her
that she could send your passion frantic
with this potion’s power.
O what a wretch I am!
I’m done, I’m dead, yes, dead,
I see the light of day no more.
Ah, now I understand the crisis where I stand.
My son, your father has no time to live,
so go and summon all your family by birth
together here, and summon poor Alcmene too—
who went to bed with Zeus to no avail!
Call them so they can hear the final oracle
I know about my death. 1150
Your mother isn’t here; she lives at Tiryns by the shore;
some of your children she has taken there,
while some are housed at Thebes within the town.°
But we are here for you, and shall obey
and do for you whatever you may ask.
Then listen what you have to do—
it’s time for you to show what son of mine you are.
My father Zeus foretold me long ago
that I should never perish at the hand of one
who lives and breathes, 1160
but someone dead and lodged in Hades’ house.
And so it is this Centaur creature who, as was foretold,
has killed me, living, though he’s dead.
And I shall tell you of more recent prophecies
concurring close with these of long ago.
I visited the forest of the Selloi—
mountain priests who sleep upon the ground—
and I wrote down in full the message
sounded by my father’s oak of many voices.°
This declared that at this very living time,
release would come from all the labours heaped on me. 1170
I thought this meant that I should go on happily,
but what it meant was I should die—
because no troubles are imposed upon the dead.
So since these things are clearly falling into place,°
you now must be my fellow-fighter;
do not wait until I’m forced to use fierce words,
but give assent and work along with me—
you’ll find obedience to your father is the finest rule.
Father, I am fearful now we’ve come to such a point,
but I shall still obey whatever you think right. 1180
First, then, with your right hand take hold of mine.
But why put such a heavy pledge on me?
Give me your hand now, now! Don’t disobey.
Here, then, my hand. Your will is not to be denied.
Now swear this oath upon the head of Zeus, my father.
Swear to do what? Is that to be disclosed?
Swear to carry through the deed that I prescribe.
I take this oath, with Zeus my witness.
And pray for punishment if you don’t keep to this.
No need because I’ll do it—all the same, I make the prayer. 1190
You know Mount Oeta,° sacred to almighty Zeus?
I do. I’ve often stood up there for sacrificial rites.
You must lift up my body and convey it to that place
with your own hands, along with any friends you choose.
Next cut down ample branches from deep-rooted oaks,
and plenty from the male wild olive too;
then place my body on this wood,
and with a blazing torch of pine set it alight.
And let there be no weeping, but, as you are my true son,
do this with no lament, and with no tears. 1200
If you do not obey, I shall stay down below
a heavy curse upon you evermore.
Ah, father, what is this you say?
What have you done to me?
I’ve said how you must act. If you do not,
turn into someone else’s son, not known as mine.
Ah no! You are demanding I become your murderer,
so that I have your blood upon my hands.
No, not at all, but the reliever of my present agony,
my one true healer.
How can I heal your body, though, by setting fire to it? 1210
Well, if it’s that you cannot face,° at least do all the rest.
I’ll not refuse the task of carrying you at least.
And heaping up the pyre as I’ve instructed you?
Except that I shall not lay hand on it myself;
I shall do all the rest, and you’ll have no complaint.
Well, that will do. And now add one
small favour to these greater ones.
However great this thing, it shall be carried out.
You know the daughter of Eurytus, then?
You’re speaking, I suppose, of Iole? 1220
That’s right. Now this is my command, my son.
This woman, once I’m dead:
if you desire to honour me and keep your oath,
make her your wife in bed.
Don’t disobey your father;
don’t let any other man but you possess her,
who has lain with me,
her body pressed to mine.°
Reserve this bed of marriage for yourself, my son.
Do it. Now you’ve obeyed me in great things,
to disobey in small would spoil the former favour.
It must be wrong to feel enraged with someone sick, 1230
yet who could tolerate a sane man thinking such a thing?
It sounds as though you will do nothing that I ask.
Who would . . . ? When she alone it is
who shares the blame for my dear mother’s death—
and then for your condition too.
So who could choose this course—
unless demented by some demon of revenge?
No, father, I would rather die
than live with those I have most cause to hate.
So it appears this man will not respect my dying wish.
For sure the gods will keep a curse
for you if you do not obey. 1240
I fear you’re showing just how sick you are.
Yes, you have stirred awake my agony again.
How these dilemmas crowd me in my misery!
Because you choose to disregard your father’s wish.
Then must I school myself to doing wrong?
Not wrong, when you would make me glad at heart.
So you are fully justified in these commands?
I am—I call upon the gods as witness.
I’ll do it, then, and not resist,
displaying to the gods this deed as being yours. 1250
I never shall be blamed as wrong
as long as I’m obeying you, my father.
A good conclusion.
Add this favour too, my son, and quickly:
lay me on the pyre before some further fit
or tearing pain comes over me.
Now hurry, take me up.
This really is the last release from suffering,
and the final ending of this man, of me.
There’s nothing to delay these things from being done,
since you command them so compellingly, my father.
°Come then, move before you rouse this
sickness. Now, my stubborn spirit, 1260
fit a marble-clamping iron
bridle on my lips to stifle
cries of pain; so this reluctant
labour may conclude as welcome.
Heracles lies still on the bier.
Come, my comrades, lift his body.
°Grant to me your deepest fellow-
feeling: but condemn the gods for
deepest lack of any feeling.
They get children and are famed as
fathers, yet look down indifferent
on such dreadful scenes of suffering.
No one can foresee the future, 1270
but this present shows us right for
pity, yet shows them as shameful.°
Worst must be the anguish of the
man who suffers this great torment.
°You as well, young woman, do not
stay behind at home here, you who’ve
witnessed recent dreadful killings
and much new-inflicted suffering.
Nothing of all this is not Zeus.
°All accompany the stretcher with Heracles off in the direction of the mountain.