Chorus: At last our royal family,
The race of ancient Inachus,
Hath quelled the brothers' deadly strife
What fatal madness drives you on
To shed by turns each other's blood,340
And gain the throne through paths of crime?
O ye who lust for regal state,
Ye know not where true power is found;
For riches cannot make a king,
Nor Tyrian garments richly dyed,345
Nor royal crowns upon the brow,
Nor portals glittering with gold.
But he is king who knows no fear,
Whose heart is free from mad desires;
Whom vain ambition moveth not,350
Nor fickle favor of the mob.
The hidden treasures of the west
Move not his heart, nor sands of gold
Which Tagus' waters sweep along
Within their shining bed;355
Nor yet the garnered wealth of grain
Trod out on Libyan threshing-floors.
He fears no hurtling thunderbolt
In zig-zag course athwart the sky;
No Eurus ruffling up the sea,360
Nor the heaving Adriatic's waves,
Windswept and mad before the blast;
No hostile spear, nor keen, bare sword
Can master him; but, set on high,
In calm serenity he sees365
All things of earth beneath his feet.
And so with joy he goes to meet
His fate, and welcomes death.
In vain 'gainst him would kings contend,
Though from all lands they congregate—
They who the scattered Dacians lead;370
Who dwell upon the red sea's marge
Whose depths are set with gleaming pearls;
Or who, secure on Caspian heights,
Leave all unclosed their mountain ways
Against the bold Sarmatians;375
They who through Danube's swelling waves
Dare make their way with fearless feet,
And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoil
The famed and far-off Serians:
In vain all these, for 'tis the soul380
That makes the king. He needs no arms,
No steeds, no ineffectual darts
Such as the Parthian hurls from far
In simulated flight; for him
No engines huge with far-hurled rocks385
Lay waste the hostile city's walls.
But he is king who knows no fear,
And he is king who has no lust;
And on his throne secure he sits
Who is self-crowned by conscious worth.390
Let him who will, in pride of power,
Upon the brink of empire stand:
For me, be sweet repose enough;
In humble station fixed, would I
My life in gentle leisure spend,395
In silence, all unknown to fame.
So when my days have passed away
From noisy, restless tumult free,
May I, in meek obscurity400
And full of years, decline in death.
But death lies heavily on him
Who, though to all the world well known,
Is stranger to himself alone.
Thyestes: At last do I behold the welcome roofs
Of this my fatherland, the teeming wealth
Of Argos, and, the greatest and the best
Of sights to weary exiles, here I see405
My native soil and my ancestral gods
(If gods indeed there be). And there, behold,
The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared,
In beauty far excelling human art;
The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimes
Have I within my father's chariot
Sped on to victory and fair renown.410
Now will all Argos come to welcome me;
The thronging folk will come—and Atreus too!
Oh, better far reseek thy wooded haunts,
Thy glades remote, and, mingled with the brutes,
Live e'en as they. Why should this splendid realm
With its fair-seeming glitter blind my eyes?415
When thou dost look upon the goodly gift,
Scan well the giver too. Of late I lived
With bold and joyous spirit, though my lot
All men considered hard to bear. But now
My heart is filled with fears, my courage fails;
And, bent on flight, my feet unwilling move.420
Tantalus [one of Thyestes' sons]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter so
With steps uncertain, turn away thy face,
And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?
Thyestes [in soliloquy]: Why hesitate, my soul, or why so long
Deliberate upon a point so clear?
To such uncertain things dost thou intrust
Thyself as throne and brother? And fearest thou
Those ills already conquered and found mild?425
Dost flee those cares which thou hast well bestowed?
Oh, now my former wretchedness is joy.
Turn back, while still thou mayst, and save thyself.
Tantalus: What cause, O father, forces thee to leave
Thy native land at last regained? Why now,430
When richest gifts are falling in thy lap,
Dost turn away? Thy brother's wrath is o'er;
And he has turned himself once more to thee,
Has given thee back thy share of sovereignty,
Restored our shattered house to harmony,
And made thee master of thyself again.
Thyestes: Thou askest why I fear—I cannot tell.
No cause for fear I see, but still I fear. 435
I long to go, and yet my trembling limbs
Go on with faltering steps, and I am borne
Where I most stoutly struggle not to go.
So, when a ship by oar and sail is driven,
The tide, resisting both, bears it away.
Tantalus: But thou must overcome whate'er it be440
That doth oppose and hold thy soul in check;
And see how great rewards await thee here:
Thou canst be king.
Thyestes: Since I have power to die.
Tantalus: But royal power is—
Thyestes: Naught, if only thou
No power dost covet.
Tantalus: Leave it to thy sons.
Thyestes: No realm on earth can stand divided power.
Tantalus: Should he, who can be happy, still be sad?445
Thyestes: Believe me, son, 'tis by their lying names
That things seem great, while others harsh appear
Which are not truly so. When high in power
I stood, I never ceased to be in fear;
Yea, even did I fear the very sword
Upon my thigh. Oh, what a boon it is
To be at feud with none, to eat one's bread450
Without a trace of care, upon the ground!
Crime enters not the poor man's humble cot;
And all in safety may one take his food
From slender boards; for 'tis in cups of gold
That poison lurks—I speak what I do know.
Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.
For since my palace does not threatening stand455
In pride upon some lofty mountain top,
The people fear me not; my towering roofs
Gleam not with ivory, nor do I need
A watchful guard to keep me while I sleep.
I do not fish with fleets, nor drive the sea
With massive dykes back from its natural shore;460
I do not gorge me at the world's expense;
For me no fields remote are harvested
Beyond the Getae and the Parthians;
No incense burns for me, nor are my shrines
Adorned in impious neglect of Jove;
No forests wave upon my battlements,
No vast pools steam for my delight; my days465
Are not to slumber given, nor do I spend
The livelong night in drunken revelry.
No one feels fear of me, and so my home,
Though all unguarded, is from danger free;
For poverty alone may be at peace.
And this I hold: the mightiest king is he,
Who from the lust of sovereignty is free.470
Tantalus: But if some god a kingdom should bestow,
It is not meet for mortal to refuse:
Behold, thy brother bids thee to the throne.
Thyestes: He bids? 'Tis but a cloak for treachery.
Tantalus: But brotherly regard ofttimes returns
Unto the heart from which it has been driven;
And righteous love regains its former strength.
Thyestes: And dost thou speak of brother's love to me?475
Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears,
The raging waves of Sicily be still;
And sooner shall the Ionian waters yield
Ripe fields of grain; black night illume the earth;
And fire shall mate with water, life with death, 480
And winds shall make a treaty with the sea:
Than shall Thyestes know a brother's love.
Tantalus: What treachery dost thou fear?
Thyestes: All treachery.
What proper limit shall I give my fear?
My brother's power is boundless as his hate.
Tantalus: How can he harm thee?
Thyestes: For myself alone485
I have no fears; but 'tis for you, my sons,
That Atreus must be held in fear by me.
Tantalus: But canst thou be o'ercome, if on thy guard?
Thyestes: Too late one guards when in the midst of ills.
But let us on. In this one thing I show
My fatherhood: I do not lead to ill,
But follow you.
Tantalus: If well we heed our ways,
God will protect us. Come with courage on.490
Atreus [coming upon the scene, sees Thyestes and his three sons, and
gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power.
He speaks aside]: Now is the prey fast caught within
my toils.
I see the father and his hated brood,
And here my vengeful hate is safe bestowed;
For now at last he's come into my hands;
He's come, Thyestes and his children—all!495
When I see him I scarce can curb my grief,
And keep my soul from breaking madly forth.
So when the Umbrian hound pursues the prey,
Keen scented, on the long leash held, he goes
With lowered muzzle questing on the trail.
While distant still the game and faint the scent,
Obedient to the leash, with silent tongue500
He goes along; but when the prey is near,
With straining neck he struggles to be free,
Bays loud against the cautious hunter's check,
And bursts from all restraint.
When, near at hand,
Hot wrath perceives the blood for which it thirsts,
It cannot be restrained. Yet must it be.
See how his unkempt, matted hair conceals505
His woeful countenance; how foul his beard.
[He now addresses Thyestes.]
My promised faith, my brother, will I keep;
'Tis a delight to see thee once again.
Come to my arms in mutual embrace;
For all the anger which I felt for thee
Has melted clean away. From this time forth
Let ties of blood be cherished, love and faith;510
And let that hatred which has cursed us both
Forever vanish from our kindred souls.
Thyestes: I should attempt to palliate my sins,
Hadst thou not shown me such fraternal love;
But now I own, my brother, now I own
That I have sinned against thee past belief.
Thy faithful piety has made my case
Seem blacker still. A double sinner he515
Who sins against a brother such as thou.
Now let my tears my penitence approve.
Thou, first of all mankind, beholdest me
A suppliant; these hands, which never yet
Have touched the feet of man, are laid on thine.
Let all thy wrathful feelings be forgot,
Be utterly erased from off thy soul;520
And take, O brother, as my pledge of faith
These guiltless sons of mine.
Atreus: Lay not thy hands
Upon my knees. Come, rather, to my arms.
And you, dear youths, the comforters of age,
Come cling about my neck. Those rags of woe,
My brother, lay aside, and spare mine eyes;
And clothe thyself more fittingly in these,525
The equal of my own. And, last of all,
Accept thine equal share of this our realm.
'Twill bring a greater meed of praise to me,
To restore thee safely to thy father's throne.
For chance may put the scepter in our hands;
But only virtue seeks to give it up.
Thyestes: May heaven, my brother, worthily repay530
These deeds of thine. But this my wretched head
Will not consent to wear a diadem,
Nor my ill-omened hand to hold the staff
Of power. Nay, rather, let me hide myself
Among the throng.
Atreus: There's room upon the throne.
Thyestes: But I shall know that all of thine is mine.535
Atreus: But who would throw away good fortune's gifts?
Thyestes: Whoe'er has found how easily they fail.
Atreus: And wouldst thou thwart thy brother's great renown?
Thyestes: Thy glory is attained; mine bides its time.
My mind is resolute to shun the crown.540
Atreus: Then I refuse my share of power as well.
Thyestes: Nay then, I yield. The name of king I'll wear,
But laws and arms—and I, are thine to sway.
Atreus [placing the crown on his brother's head]: I'll place this crown upon thy reverend head,
And pay the destined victims to the gods.545
Chorus: The sight is past belief. Behold,
This Atreus, fierce and bold of soul,
By every cruel passion swayed,
When first he saw his brother's face
Was held in dumb amaze.
No force is greater than the power
Of Nature's ties of love. 'Tis true
That wars with foreign foes endure;550
But they whom true love once has bound
Will ever feel its ties.
When wrath, by some great cause aroused,
Hath burst the bonds of amity,
And raised the dreadful cry of war;
When gleaming squadrons thunder down
With champing steeds; when flashing swords,555
By carnage-maddened Mars upreared,
Gleam with a deadly rain of blows:
E'en then for sacred piety
Those warring hands will sheathe the sword
And join in the clasp of peace.
What god has given this sudden lull560
In the midst of loud alarms? But now
Throughout Mycenae's borders rang
The noisy prelude of a strife
'Twixt brothers' arms. Here mothers pale
Embraced their sons, and the trembling wife
Looked on her arméd lord in fear,
While the sword to his hand reluctant came,565
Foul with the rust of peace.
One strove to renew the tottering walls,
And one to strengthen the shattered towers,
And close the gates with iron bars;
While on the battlements the guard570
His anxious nightly vigils kept.
The daily fear of war is worse
Than war itself.
But fallen now are the sword's dire threats,
The deep-voiced trumpet-blare is still,
And the shrill, harsh notes of the clarion575
Are heard no more. While peace profound
Broods once again o'er the happy state.
So when, beneath the storm blast's lash,
The heaving waves break on the shore
Of Bruttium, and Scylla roars
Responsive from her cavern's depths;
Then, even within their sheltered port,580
The sailors fear the foaming sea
Which greedy Charybdis vomits up;
And Cyclops dreads his father's rage
Where he sits on burning Aetna's crag,
Lest the deathless flames on his roaring forge585
Be quenched by the overwhelming floods;
When poor Laërtes feels the shock
Of reeling Ithaca, and thinks
That his island realm will be swallowed up:
Then, if the fierce winds die away,
The waves sink back in their quiet depths;
And the sea, which of late the vessels feared,590
Now far and wide with swelling sails
Is overspread, while tiny skiffs
Skim safely o'er its harmless breast;
And one may count the very fish
Deep down within the peaceful caves,
Where but now, beneath the raging blast,
The battered islands feared the sea.595
No lot endureth long. For grief
And pleasure, each in turn, depart;
But pleasure has a briefer reign.
From lowest to the highest state
A fleeting hour may bring us. He,
Who wears a crown upon his brow,
To whom the trembling nations kneel,600
Before whose nod the barbarous Medes
Lay down their arms, the Indians too,
Who dwell beneath the nearer sun,
And Dacians, who the Parthian horse
Are ever threat'ning: he, the king,
With anxious mind the scepter bears,
Foresees and fears the fickle chance605
And shifting time which soon or late
Shall all his power overthrow.
Ye, whom the ruler of the land
And sea has given o'er subject men
The fearful power of life and death,
Abate your overweening pride.
For whatsoever fear of you610
Your weaker subjects feel today,
Tomorrow shall a stronger lord
Inspire in you. For every power
Is subject to a greater power.
Him, whom the dawning day beholds
In proud estate, the setting sun
Sees lying in the dust.
Let no one then trust overmuch615
To favoring fate; and when she frowns,
Let no one utterly despair
Of better fortune yet to come.
For Clotho mingles good and ill;
She whirls the wheel of fate around,
Nor suffers it to stand.
To no one are the gods so good
That he may safely call his own620
Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheel
Has God our fortunes placed for good or ill.
Messenger: Oh, for some raging blast to carry me
With headlong speed through distant realms of air,
And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds;
That so I might this monstrous horror tear
From my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame625
To Pelops even and to Tantalus!
Chorus: What is the news thou bring'st?
Messenger: What realm is this?
Argos and Sparta, once the noble home
Of pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shores
Two rival oceans beat? Or do I see
The barbarous Danube on whose frozen stream
The savage Alani make swift retreat?630
Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?
Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?
What place is this that knows such hideous crime?
Chorus: But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be.
Messenger: When I my scattered senses gather up,
And horrid fear lets go its numbing hold
Upon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still,
The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed!635
Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far,
Far distant, where the vanished day is borne.
Chorus: Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty.
Speak out and tell us what this horror is,
And who its author. Yet would I inquire
Not who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then.640
Messenger: There is upon the lofty citadel
A part of Pelops' house that fronts the south,
Whose farther side lifts up its massive walls
To mountain heights; for so the reigning king
May better sway the town, and hold in check
The common rabble when it scorns the throne.
Within this palace is a gleaming hall,645
So huge, it may a multitude contain;
Whose golden architraves are high upborne
By stately columns of a varied hue.
Behind this public hall where people throng,
The palace stretches off in spacious rooms;
And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies,650
Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spot
An ancient grove within a dale confines,
Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords,
Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress trees
And yews, and woods of gloomy ilex wave
Their melancholy boughs. Above them all655
A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad,
O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this place
The royal sons of Tantalus are wont
To ask consent of heaven to their rule,
And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns.
Here hang their consecrated offerings:
Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots,
Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea;660
Still hang upon the treacherous axle-trees
The conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grim
Of every crime this sinful race has done.
Here also is the Phrygian turban hung
Of Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes,
A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war.
An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade,665
And sluggish creeps along within the swamp,
Just like the ugly waters of the Styx
Which bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that here
At dead of night the hellish gods make moan,
And all the grove resounds with clanking chains,
And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen670
Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear.
The spirits of the ancient dead come forth
From old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad;
While monsters, greater than the world has known,
Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible.
The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light,
And without sign of fire the palace glows.
Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound675
Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell,
And oft do mighty shapes affright the house.
Nor are these fears allayed by light of day;
For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noon
The horror of the underworld abides.
From this dread spot are sure responses given680
To those who seek the oracle; the fates
With mighty sound from out the grot are told,
And all the cavern thunders with the god.
'Twas to this spot that maddened Atreus came,
His brother's children dragging in his train.
The sacrificial altars are adorned—
Oh, who can worthily describe the deed?
Behind their backs the noble captives' hands685
Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows.
All things are ready, incense, sacred wine,
The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife.
The last detail is properly observed,
That this outrageous murder may be done
In strict observance of the ritual!
Chorus: Who lays his hand unto the fatal steel?690
Messenger: He is himself the priest; the baleful prayer
He makes, and chants the sacrificial song
With wild and boisterous words; before the shrine
He takes his place; the victims doomed to death
He sets in order, and prepares the sword.
He gives the closest heed to all details
And misses no least portion of the rite.695
The grove begins to tremble, earth to quake,
And all the palace totters with the shock,
And seems to hesitate in conscious doubt
Where it shall throw its ponderous masses down.
High on the left a star with darkling train
Shoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred wine
Poured at the altar fires, with horrid change,700
Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crown
Fell twice and yet again from Atreus' head,
And the ivory statues in the temple wept.
These monstrous portents moved all others sore;
But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved,
And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.
And now delay is at an end. He stands705
Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.
As in the jungle by the Ganges stream
A hungry tigress stands between two bulls,
Eager for both, but yet in doubtful mood
Which first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns710
With gaping jaws, then back to that again,
And holds her raging hunger in suspense):
So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomed
To sate his curséd wrath; and hesitates
Who first shall feel the knife, and who shall die
The next in order. 'Tis of no concern,
But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile715
In planning how to do the horrid deed.
Chorus: Who then is first to die?
Messenger: First place he gives
(Lest you should think him lacking in respect)
Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.
Chorus: What spirit, what demeanor showed the youth?
Messenger: He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead,720
Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neck
That savage butcher plunged his gleaming sword
Clear to the hilt and drew it forth again.
Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long,
As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall,725
At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.
Then he, his rancor unabated still,
Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine,
And quickly meted him his brother's fate.
With one keen blow he smote him on the neck,
Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth;
While with a murmur inarticulate,
His head with look complaining rolled away.
Chorus: What did he then, this twofold murder done?730
The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?
Messenger: As when some manéd lion in the woods
Victorious attacks the Armenian herds—
(His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone;
And yet he does not lay aside his wrath;735
Now here, now there he charges on the bulls,
And now the calves he worries, though his teeth
Are weary with their work)—so Atreus raves;
He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his hand
The sword with double slaughter dripping yet,
By fury blinded but with deadly stroke,
He drives clean through the body of the boy.740
And so, from breast to back transfixed, he falls
By double wound, and with his streaming blood
Extinguishes the baleful altar fires.
Messenger: What! horrid call ye that?
If only there the course of crime had stopped,
'Twould pious seem.745
Chorus: What more atrocious crime,
What greater sin could human heart conceive?
Messenger: And do ye think his crime was ended here?
'Twas just begun.
Chorus: What further could there be?
Perchance he threw the corpses to be torn
By raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?
Messenger: Would that he had! I do not pray for this,
That friendly earth may give them burial,
Or funeral fires consume; but only this,750
That as a ghastly meal they may be thrown
To birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer,
Which otherwise were direful punishment.
Oh, that the father might their corpses see
Denied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes,
Incredible in any age; a crime
Which coming generations will refuse
To hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life,755
The exta, plucked away, lie quivering,
The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.
But he the organs with a practiced hand
Turns deftly over, and inquires the fates,
Observing carefully the viscera.
With this inspection satisfied at length,
With mind at ease, he now is free to plan760
His brother's awful feast. With his own hand
The bodies he dismembers, carving off
The arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones,
And all with savage joy. He only saves
The heads and hands, those hands which he himself
Had clasped in friendly faith. Some of the flesh
Is placed on spits and by the roasting fires765
Hangs dripping; other parts into a pot
Are thrown, where on the water's seething stream
They leap about. The fire in horror shrinks
From the polluting touch of such a feast,
Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearth
Twice and again, until at last constrained,
Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.
The liver sputters strangely on the spits;770
Nor could I say whether the flesh or flames
Groan more. The fitful flames die out in smoke
Of pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself,
A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloft
In upward-shooting columns, straight and high,
But settles down like a disfiguring shroud
Upon the very statues of the gods.775
O all-enduring sun, though thou didst flee
In horror from the sight, and the radiant noon
Didst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.
The father tears his sons, and impiously feasts
On his own flesh. See, there in state he sits,
His hair anointed with the dripping nard,780
His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food,
As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.
In this thine evil hour one good remains,
One only, O Thyestes: that to know
Thy depth of suffering is spared to thee.
But even this will perish. Though the sun
Should turn his chariot backward on its course,785
And night, at noon arising from the earth,
Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crime
With shades unknown, it could not be concealed;
For every evil deed shall be revealed.
Chorus: O father of the earth and sky,
Before whose rising beams the night790
With all her glories flees away;
Oh, whither dost thou turn thy course,
And why, midway of heaven, does day
To darkness turn? O Phoebus, why
Dost turn away thy shining face?
Not yet has evening's messenger
Called forth the nightly stars; not yet795
The rounding of thy western goal
Bids loose thy horses from their toil;
Not yet, as day fades into night,
Sounds forth the trumpets' evening call.
The plowman stands in dumb amaze,800
With oxen still unspent with toil,
To see the welcome supper hour
So quickly come. But what, O sun,
Has driven thee from thy heavenly course?
What cause from their accustomed way
Has turned thy steeds? Is war essayed
Once more by giants, bursting forth
From out the riven gates of Dis?805
Does Tityos, though wounded sore,
Renew his ancient, deadly wrath?
Perchance Typhoeus has thrown off
His mountain, and is free once more;
Perchance once more a way to heaven810
Those giants, felled in Phlegra's vale,
Are building, and on Pelion's top
Are piling Thracian Ossa high.
The accustomed changes of the heavens
Are gone to come no more. No more
The rising and the setting sun
Shall we behold. Aurora bright,815
The herald of the dewy morn,
Whose wont it is to speed the sun
Upon his way, now stands amazed
To see her kingdom overturned.
She is not skilled to bathe his steeds,
A-weary with their rapid course,
Nor in the cooling sea to plunge820
Their reeking manes. The sun himself,
In setting, sees the place of dawn,
And bids the darkness fill the sky
Without the aid of night. No stars
Come out, nor do the heavens gleam
With any fires; no moon dispels825
The darkness' black and heavy pall.
Oh, that the night itself were here,
Whatever this portends! Our hearts
Are trembling, yea, are trembling sore,
And smitten with a boding fear
Lest all the world in ruins fall,830
And formless chaos as of yore
O'erwhelm us, gods and men; lest land,
And all-encircling sea, and stars
That wander in the spangled heavens,
Be buried in the general doom.
No more with gleaming, deathless torch,835
Shall Phoebus, lord of all the stars,
Lead the procession of the years
And mark the seasons; nevermore
Shall Luna, flashing back his rays,
Dispel the fears of night; and pass
In shorter course her brother's car.840
The throng of heavenly beings soon
Shall in one vast abyss be heaped.
That shining path of sacred stars,
Which cuts obliquely 'thwart the zones,845
The standard-bearer of the years,
Shall see the stars in ruin fall,
Itself in ruin falling. He,
The Ram, who, in the early spring,
Restores the sails to the warming breeze,
Shall headlong plunge into those waves850
Through which the trembling maid of Greece
He bore of old. And Taurus, who
Upon his horns like a garland wears
The Hyades, shall drag with him
The sacred Twins, and the stretched-out claws
Of the curving Crab. With heat inflamed,
Alcides' Lion once again855
Shall fall from heaven; the Virgin, too,
Back to the earth she left shall fall;
And the righteous Scales with their mighty weights,
Shall drag in their fall the Scorpion.
And he, old Chiron, skilled to hold860
Upon his bow of Thessaly
The feathered dart, shall lose his shafts
And break his bow. Cold Capricorn,
Who ushers sluggish winter in,
Shall fall from heaven, and break thy urn,
Whoe'er thou art, O Waterman.865
And with thee shall the Fish depart
Remotest of the stars of heaven;
And those monsters
[48] huge which never yet
Were in the ocean plunged, shall soon
Within the all-engulfing sea
Be swallowed up. And that huge Snake,
Which like a winding river glides870
Between the Bears, shall fall from heaven;
[49]United with that serpent huge,
The Lesser Bear, congealed with cold,
And that slow driver of the Wain
No longer stable in its course,
Shall all in common ruin fall.
Have we, of all the race of men,875
Been worthy deemed to be o'erwhelmed
And buried 'neath a riven earth?
Is this our age the end of all?
Alas, in evil hour of fate
Were we begotten, wretched still,
Whether the sun is lost to us880
Or banished by our impious sins!
But away with vain complaints and fear:
Eager for life is he who would not die,
Though all the world in death around him lie.