The Death of Hercules



9:159 Now a long interval of time succeeds,
9:160 When the great son of Jove's immortal deeds,
9:161 And step-dame's hate, had fill'd Earth's utmost round;
9:162 He from Oechalia, with new lawrels crown'd,
9:163 In triumph was return'd. He rites prepares,
9:164 And to the King of Gods directs his pray'rs;
9:165 When Fame (who falshood cloaths in truth's disguise,
9:166 And swells her little bulk with growing lies)
9:167 Thy tender ear, o Deianira, mov'd,
9:168 That Hercules the fair Iole lov'd.
9:169 Her love believes the tale; the truth she fears
9:170 Of his new passion, and gives way to tears.
9:171 The flowing tears diffus'd her wretched grief,
9:172 Why seek I thus, from streaming eyes, relief?
9:173 She cries; indulge not thus these fruitless cares,
9:174 The harlot will but triumph in thy tears:
9:175 Let something be resolv'd, while yet there's time;
9:176 My bed not conscious of a rival's crime.
9:177 In silence shall I mourn, or loud complain?
9:178 Shall I seek Calydon, or here remain?
9:179 What tho', ally'd to Meleager's fame,
9:180 I boast the honours of a sister's name?
9:181 My wrongs, perhaps, now urge me to pursue
9:182 Some desp'rate deed, by which the world shall view
9:183 How far revenge, and woman's rage can rise,
9:184 When weltring in her blood the harlot dies.

9:185 Thus various passions rul'd by turns her breast,
9:186 She now resolves to send the fatal vest,
9:187 Dy'd with Lernaean gore, whose pow'r might move
9:188 His soul anew, and rouse declining love.
9:189 Nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows,
9:190 When she to Lychas trusts her future woes;
9:191 With soft endearments she the boy commands,
9:192 To bear the garment to her husband's hands.

9:193 Th' unwitting hero takes the gift in haste,
9:194 And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poison cast,
9:195 As first the fire with frankincense he strows,
9:196 And utters to the Gods his holy vows;
9:197 And on the marble altar's polish'd frame
9:198 Pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame
9:199 Sudden dissolves the subtle pois'nous juice,
9:200 Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews.
9:201 With wonted fortitude he bore the smart,
9:202 And not a groan confess'd his burning heart.
9:203 At length his patience was subdu'd by pain,
9:204 He rends the sacred altar from the plain;
9:205 Oete's wide forests echo with his cries:
9:206 Now to rip off the deathful robe he tries.
9:207 Where-e'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears,
9:208 The mangled muscles, and huge bones he bares
9:209 (A ghastful sight!), or raging with his pain,
9:210 To rend the sticking plague he tugs in vain.

9:211 As the red iron hisses in the flood,
9:212 So boils the venom in his curdling blood.
9:213 Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow,
9:214 And livid sweats down all his body flow;
9:215 The cracking nerves burnt up are burst in twain,
9:216 The lurking venom melts his swimming brain.

9:217 Then, lifting both his hands aloft, he cries,
9:218 Glut thy revenge, dread Empress of the skies;
9:219 Sate with my death the rancour of thy heart,
9:220 Look down with pleasure, and enjoy my smart.
9:221 Or, if e'er pity mov'd a hostile breast
9:222 (For here I stand thy enemy profest),
9:223 Take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn,
9:224 Inur'd to trouble, and to labours born.
9:225 Death is the gift most welcome to my woe,
9:226 And such a gift a stepdame may bestow.
9:227 Was it for this Busiris was subdu'd,
9:228 Whose barb'rous temples reek'd with strangers' blood?
9:229 Press'd in these arms his fate Antaeus found,
9:230 Nor gain'd recruited vigour from the ground.
9:231 Did I not triple-form'd Geryon fell?
9:232 Or did I fear the triple dog of Hell?
9:233 Did not these hands the bull's arm'd forehead hold?
9:234 Are not our mighty toils in Elis told?
9:235 Do not Stymphalian lakes proclaim thy fame?
9:236 And fair Parthenian woods resound thy name?
9:237 Who seiz'd the golden belt of Thermodon?
9:238 And who the dragon-guarded apples won?
9:239 Could the fierce centaur's strength my force withstand,
9:240 Or the fell boar that spoil'd th' Arcadian land?
9:241 Did not these arms the Hydra's rage subdue,
9:242 Who from his wounds to double fury grew?
9:243 What if the Thracian horses, fat with gore,
9:244 Who human bodies in their mangers tore,
9:245 I saw, and with their barb'rous lord o'erthrew?
9:246 What if these hands Nemaea's lion slew?
9:247 Did not this neck the heav'nly globe sustain?
9:248 The female partner of the Thunderer's reign
9:249 Fatigu'd, at length suspends her harsh commands,
9:250 Yet no fatigue hath slack'd these valiant hands.
9:251 But now new plagues pursue me, neither force,
9:252 Nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course.
9:253 Devouring flame thro' my rack'd entrails strays,
9:254 And on my lungs and shrivel'd muscles preys.
9:255 Yet still Eurystheus breathes the vital air.
9:256 What mortal now shall seek the Gods with pray'r?