DÊ
Enter DÊANIRA .
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Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house
Holds converse with the captives ere he go,
I have stol’n forth to you, partly to tell
The craft my hand hath compassed, and in part,
To crave your pity for my wretchedness.
For I have taken to my hearth a maid,—
And yet, methinks, no maiden any more,
Like some fond shipmaster, taking on board
A cargo fraught with treason to my heart.
And now we two are closed in one embrace
Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed
For faith in guarding home this dreary while
Hath the kind Heracles our trusty spouse,
Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught
This same distemperature, I know not how
To harbour indignation against him.
But who that is a woman could endure
To dwell with her, both married to one man?
One bloom is still advancing, one doth fade.
The budding flower is cropped, the full-blown head
Is left to wither, while love passeth by
Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid
He will be called my husband, but her mate,
For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife
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Would take this angerly, as I have said.
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But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way,
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Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent
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This heart-break. I had hidden of long time
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In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur’s gift,
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Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound
Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death.
He o’er Evenus’ rolling depths, for hire,
Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying
Or rowing-boat, or canvas-wingèd bark.
Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride,
I followed by my father’s sending forth,
Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed
With wanton touch. And I cried out; and he,
Zeus’ son, turned suddenly, and from his bow
Sent a wing’d shaft, that whizzed into his chest
To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice
Spake to me:—‘Child of aged Oeneüs,
Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win
Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do
What now I bid thee. With a careful hand
Collect and bear away the clotted gore
That clogs my wound, e’en where the monster snake
Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall;
And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul
For Heracles, that never through the eye
Shall he receive another love than thine.’
Whereof bethinking me, for since his death
I kept it in a closet locked with care,
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I have applied it to this robe, with such
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Addition as his living voice ordained.—
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The thing is done. No criminal attempts
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Could e’er be mine. Far be they from my thought,
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As I abhor the woman who conceives them!
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But if by any means through gentle spells
And bonds on Heracles’ affection, we
May triumph o’er this maiden in his heart,
My scheme is perfected. Unless you deem
Mine action wild. If so, I will desist.
