Rouse now your courage, and boast of your warlike deeds. She has taken the name of hero, because you were unworthy of it; and is as much above you, as it was a harder task to subdue you, the greatest of conquerors, than those whom you overcame. The glory of your actions redounds to her. Resign your claim of praise: a mistress has become
heir to your trophies. For shame! do you suffer the bristly hide, torn from the ribs of the savage lion, to enfold her feeble limbs? Weak man, to be thus deluded! These are not the spoils of the lion, but yours: you have indeed triumphed over the savage monster; but she triumphs over you. A woman, scarcely able to sustain the distaff loaded with wool, bears the darts dipped in the poison of the Lernæan Hydra; she has armed her right hand with the club which could subdue the most ferocious beasts; and has viewed in a mirror the armour of her spouse. These things, indeed, I only heard, and was willing to disbelieve common report; but now the mournful tale forces itself upon my senses. A foreign harlot is caressed in my sight; and it is no longer in my power to hide what I suffer. I am not even allowed to be absent. The captive, whom I behold with unwilling eyes, is led through the midst of the city, not in the manner of slaves, with her hair disheveled, and hiding her face in token of her disaster; but in triumphal pomp, adorned with shining gold, and clad in the same attire which you wore when in Phrygia. She carries her dead high amidst the captives subdued by Hercules, as if Œchalia still stood, and her father yet existed. Perhaps too, laying aside the name of mistress, she will be received as your spouse, and Deianira of Ætolia be ba-
nished from your bed. An impious marriage may join, in unchaste bands, Iole the daughter of Eurytus, and the infatuated Alcides. My mind sickens with the apprehension; a shivering coldness spreads itself over all my limbs; and my languid hands lie motionless upon my knees. You loved also me among many others; but your love to me was without a crime. Think it no dishonor that twice you fought victorious in my behalf. Achelous gathered his shattered horns upon his oozy banks, and plunged his mutilated temples in the muddy stream. Nessus the Centaur fell near the stream of fatal Evenus, and tinged the waters with his unnatural blood. But why do I now mention these things? Even while I write, Fame brings me the news that my husband perishes by the poison of the shirt that I sent him. Alas! what have I done? Whither has my despairing love driven me? Impious Deianira, do you yet doubt whether you should die? Shall your husband perish miserably on Mount
Œta; and you, the cause of that barbarous crime, survive? If aught yet remains to be done by which I may shew myself the wife of Hercules, death shall be the confirmation of our union. You also, Meleager, shall own in me a true sister. Impious Deianira, do you yet doubt whether you should die? Oh! ill-fated house! Agrios usurps the lofty throne, and a desolate old age oppresses Œneus. My brother Tydeus wanders an exile on unknown coasts: the other perished alive in devouring flames. My mother transfixed her heart with steel. Impious Deianira, do you yet doubt whether you should die? It is my only request, by all the most sacred ties of marriage, that I may not be thought to have betrayed you to your fate. Nessus, when his breast was pierced by the flying arrow, said to me, "This blood of mine contains the powers of love." I sent you a robe stained with the poison of the Centaur. Impious Deianira, do you yet doubt whether you should die? And now, my aged sire, and sister Gorge, adieu. Farewell, my country, and my brother, banished from your native home. Adieu, light of day, the last to my now fading eyes. Farewell, my husband, (Oh that thou could'st fare well!) Hyllus, my dear Hyllus, adieu!
