Part I

Or as Alcmena, from Electryon born,
The guardian of his people, her lov’d home
And natal soil abandoning, to Thebes
Came with Amphitryon: with the brave in war.
She all the gentle race of womankind
In height surpass’d and beauty: nor with her
Might one in prudence vie, of all who sprang
From mortal fair-ones, blending in embrace
With mortal men. Both from her tressed head,
And from the darkening lashes of her eyes,
She breathed enamouring odour like the breath
Of balmy Venus: passing fair she was,
Yet not the less her consort with heart-love
Revered she; so had never woman loved.
Though he her noble sire by violent strength
Had slain, amid those herds, the cause of strife,
Madden’d to sudden rage: his native soil
He left, and thence to the Cadmean state,
Shield-bearing tribe, came supplicant: and there
Dwelt with his modest spouse; yet from the joys
Of love estranged: for he might not ascend
The couch of her, the beautiful of feet,
Till for the slaughter of her brethren brave,
His arm had wreak’d revenge; and burn’d with fire
The guilty cities of those warlike men
Taphians and Teloboans. This the task
Assign’d: the gods on high that solemn vow
Had witness’d: of their anger visitant
In fear he stood; and speeded in all haste
T’ achieve the mighty feat, imposed by Heaven.
Him the Bœotians, gorers of the steed,
Who coveting the war-shout and the shock
Of battle o’er the buckler breathe aloft
Their open valour: him the Locrian race
Close-combating; and of undaunted soul,
The Phocians follow’d: towering in the van
Amphitryon gallant shone: and in his host
Gloried. But other counsel secret wove
Within his breast the sire of gods and men:
That both to gods and to th’ inventive race
Of man a great deliverer might arise
Sprung from his loins, of plague-repelling fame.
Deep-framing in his inmost soul deceit,
He through the nightly darkness took his way
From high Olympus, glowing with the love
Of her, the fair-one of the graceful zone.
Swift to the Typhaonian mount he pass’d:
Thence drew nigh Phycium’s lofty ridge: sublime
There sitting, the wise counsellor of heaven
Revolved a work divine. That self-same night
He sought the couch of her, who stately treads
With long-paced step; and melting in her arms
Took there his fill of love. That self-same night
The host-arousing chief, the mighty deed
Perform’d, in glory to his home returned:
Nor to the vassals and the shepherd hinds
His footstep bent, before he climb’d the couch
Of his Alcmena: such inflaming love
Seiz’d in the deep recesses of his heart
The chief of thousands. And as he, that scarce
Escapes, and yet escapes, from grievous plague
Or the hard-fettering chain, flies free away
Joyful,—so struggling through that arduous toil
With pain accomplish’d, wishful, eager, traced
The prince his homeward way. The live-long night
He with the modest partner of his bed
Embracing lay, and revell’d in delight
The bounteous bliss of love’s all-charming queen.

Thus by a god and by the first of men
Alike subdued to love, Alcmena gave
Twin-brethren birth, within the seven-fold gates
Of Thebes: yet brethren though they were, unlike
Their natures: this of weaker strain; but that
Far more of man; valorous and stern and strong.
Him, Hercules, conceived she from th’ embrace
Of the cloud-darkener: to th’ Alcæan chief,
Shaker of spears, gave Iphiclus: a race
Distinct: nor wonder: this of mortal man,
That of imperial Jove. The same who slew
The lofty-minded Cygnus, child of Mars.

For in the grove of the far-darting god
He found him: and insatiable of war
His father Mars beside. Both bright in arms,
Bright as the sheen of burning flame, they stood
On their high chariot; and the horses fleet
Trampled the ground with rending hoofs: around
In parted circle smoked the cloudy dust,
Up-dash’d beneath the trampling hoofs, and cars
Of complicated frame. The well-framed cars
Rattled aloud: loud clash’d the wheels: while rapt
In their full speed the horses flew. Rejoiced
The noble Cygnus; for the hope was his,
Jove’s warlike offspring and his charioteer
To slay, and strip them of their gorgeous mail.
But to his vows the Prophet-god of day
Turn’d a deaf ear: for he himself set on
Th’ assault of Hercules. Now all the grove,
And Phœbus’ altar, flash’d with glimmering arms
Of that tremendous god: himself blazed light,
And darted radiance from his eye-balls glared
As it were flame. But who of mortal mould
Had e’er endured in daring opposite
To rush before him, save but Hercules,
And Ioläus, an illustrious name?
For mighty strength was theirs: and arms that stretch’d
From their broad shoulders unapproachable
In valorous force, above their nervous frames:
He therefore thus bespoke his charioteer:

“Oh hero Ioläus! dearest far
To me of all the race of mortal men;
I deem it sure that ’gainst the blest of Heaven
Amphitryon sinn’d, when to the fair-wall’d Thebes
He came, forsaking Tirynth’s well-built walls,
Electryon midst the strife of wide-brow’d herds
Slain by his hand: to Creon suppliant came,
And her of flowing robe, Henioche:
Who straight embraced, and all of needful aid
Lent hospitable, as to suppliant due:
And more for this, e’en from the heart they gave
All honour and observance. So he lived,
Exulting in his graceful-ankled spouse
Alcmena. When the rapid year roll’d round,
We, far unlike in stature and in soul,
Were born, thy sire and I: him Jove bereaved
Of wisdom; who from his parental home
Went forth, and to the fell Eurystheus bore
His homage. Wretch! for he most sure bewail’d
In after-time that grievous fault, a deed
Irrevocable. On myself has Fate
Laid heavy labours. But, oh friend! oh now
Quick snatch the purple reins of these my steeds
Rapid of hoof: the manly courage rouse
Within thee: now with strong unerring grasp
Guide the swift chariot’s whirl, and wind the steeds
Rapid of hoof: fear nought the dismal yell
Of mortal-slayer Mars, whilst to and fro
He ranges fierce Apollo’s hallow’d grove
With frenzying shout: for, be he as he may
War-mighty, he of war shall take his fill.”

Then answer’d Ioläus: “Oh revered!
Doubtless the father of the gods and men
Thy head delights to honour; and the god
Who keeps the wall of Thebes and guards her towers,
Bull-visaged Neptune: so be sure they give
Unto thy hand this mortal huge and strong,
That from the conflict thou mayst bear away
High glory. But now haste—in warlike mail
Dress now thy limbs, that, rapidly as thought
Mingling the shock of cars, we may be join’d
In battle. He th’ undaunted son of Jove
Shall strike not with his terrors, nor yet me
Iphiclides: but swiftly, as I deem,
Shall he to flight betake him, from the race
Of brave Alcæus: who now pressing nigh
Gain on their foes and languish for the shout
Of closing combat; to their eager ear
More grateful than the banquet’s revelry.”

He said: and Hercules smiled stern his joy
Elate of thought: for he had spoken words
Most welcome. Then with winged accents thus:
“Jove-foster’d hero! it is e’en at hand,
The battle’s rough encounter: thou, as erst,
In martial prudence firm, aright, aleft,
With vantage of the fray, unerring guide
Arion huge, the sable-maned, and me
Aid in the doubtful contest, as thou mayst.”

Thus having said, he sheathed his legs in greaves
Of mountain brass, resplendent-white: famed gift
Of Vulcan: o’er his breast he fitted close
The corselet, variegated, beautiful,
Of shining gold; this Jove-born Pallas gave,
When first he rush’d to meet the mingling groans
Of battle. Then the mighty man athwart
His shoulder slung the sword, whose edge repels
Th’ approach of mortal harms: and clasp’d around
His bosom, and reclining o’er his back,
He cast the hollow quiver. Lurk’d therein
Full many arrows: shuddering horror they
Inflicted, and the agony of death
Sudden, that chokes the suffocated voice:
The points were barb’d with death, and bitter steep’d
In human tears: burnish’d the lengthening shafts:
And they were feather’d from the tawny plume
Of eagles. Now he grasp’d the solid spear
Sharpen’d with brass: and on his brows of strength
Placed the forged helm, high-wrought in adamant,
That cased the temples round, and fenced the head
Of Hercules: the man of heavenly birth.

Then with his hands he raised THE SHIELD, of disk
Diversified: might none with missile aim
Pierce, nor th’ impenetrable substance rive
Shattering: a wondrous frame: since all throughout
Bright with enamel, and with ivory,
And mingled metal; and with ruddy gold
Refulgent, and with azure plates inlaid.
The scaly terror of a dragon coil’d
Full in the central field; unspeakable;
With eyes oblique retorted, that aslant
Shot gleaming flame: his hollow jaw was fill’d
Dispersedly with jagged fangs of white,
Grim, unapproachable. And next above
The dragon’s forehead fell, stern Strife in air
Hung hovering, and array’d the war of men:
Haggard; whose aspect from all mortals reft
All mind and soul; whoe’er in brunt of arms
Should match their strength, and face the son of Jove.
Below this earth their spirits to th’ abyss
Descend: and through the flesh that wastes away
Beneath the parching sun, their whitening bones
Start forth, and moulder in the sable dust.
Pursuit was there, and fiercely rallying Flight,
Tumult and Terror: burning Carnage glow’d:
Wild Discord madden’d there, and frantic Rout
Ranged to and fro. A deathful Destiny
There grasp’d a living man, that bled afresh
From recent wound: another, yet unharm’d,
Dragg’d furious; and a third, already dead,
Trail’d by the feet amid the throng of war:
And o’er her shoulders was a garment thrown
Dabbled in human blood: and in her look
Was horror: and a deep funereal cry
Broke from her lips. There indescribable
Twelve serpent heads rose dreadful: and with fear
Froze all, who drew on earth the breath of life,
Whoe’er should match their strength in brunt of arms,
And face the son of Jove: and oft as he
Moved to the battle, from their clashing fangs
A sound was heard. Such miracles display’d
The buckler’s field, with living blazonry
Resplendent: and those fearful snakes were streak’d
O’er their cærulean backs with streaks of jet:
And their jaws blacken’d with a jetty dye.