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Chorus
94
STRO. 1. O thou, whom saphir-spangled Night
(That vanquish'd flies before thy golden ray)
Calls forth thy orient lustre to display,
And curtains close thy setting light,
To thee, O Sun, I call; declare,
Bright blazing through the lucid air,
Where dwells the hero through this length of time?
Where does Alcmena's son reside?
Rolls he on ocean's billowy tide?
Lies he reposed in some soft eastern clime,
Or where decline thy west'ring rays?
Oh say, for all thy piercing eye surveys !
ANTIS. 1. Desire, and doubt, and anxious fear
Incessant harrow Deianira's breast;
Like the poor bird that wails her widow'd nest,
As from her eye still streams the tear,
Mindful she mourns her lord, each thought
With terrors at his wand'rings fraught,
And at imagined dangers melts away:
As on her lonely couch she lies,
The sleepless night she wastes in sighs,
And sinks to sorrow and despair a prey;
Whilst to her fancy ills unknown
In all their hideous threat'ning shapes are shown.
As when with terror we behold
From South or North the wild winds sweep,
Waves after waves with fury roll'd
Swell the vex'd bosom of the deep;
Such is the Theban Hero's state,
95
Tost in the ceaseless storms of fate.
95
Toils rise on toils, an endless train,
95
As billows on the troubled main;
95
Yet to his virtues just some god
95
Saves him from Pluto's drear abode.
95
Let me then blame thy anxious fear;
95
Far other views if I display,
95
My words bring comfort to thy ear:
95
Thou shou'dst not throw sweet Hope away.
95
The sovereign ruler of our fate
95
Gives mortals no untroubled state;
95
But joy and grief are ever found
95
Revolving their alternate round,
95
As circling in the Arctic skies...
95
The constellations set and rise.
95
Nor Night in sable stole array'd
95
O'er mortals always spreads her solemn shade;
95
Nor always griefs remain,
95
Nor riches; their light wings at once they spread,
95
Away at once are fled;
95
The heart now welcomes joy's bright train,
95
Now sickens at th' approach of pain.
95
Then sink not, Queen, with griefs opprest,
95
But let hope brighten in thy breast;
95
Jove o'er his sons his care extends,
95
And all his glorious race defends.
95
STRO. 1. O thou, whom saphir-spangled Night
(That vanquish'd flies before thy golden ray)
Calls forth thy orient lustre to display,
And curtains close thy setting light,
To thee, O Sun, I call; declare,
Bright blazing through the lucid air,
Where dwells the hero through this length of time?
Where does Alcmena's son reside?
Rolls he on ocean's billowy tide?
Lies he reposed in some soft eastern clime,
Or where decline thy west'ring rays?
Oh say, for all thy piercing eye surveys !
ANTIS. 1. Desire, and doubt, and anxious fear
Incessant harrow Deianira's breast;
Like the poor bird that wails her widow'd nest,
As from her eye still streams the tear,
Mindful she mourns her lord, each thought
With terrors at his wand'rings fraught,
And at imagined dangers melts away:
As on her lonely couch she lies,
The sleepless night she wastes in sighs,
And sinks to sorrow and despair a prey;
Whilst to her fancy ills unknown
In all their hideous threat'ning shapes are shown.
As when with terror we behold
From South or North the wild winds sweep,
Waves after waves with fury roll'd
Swell the vex'd bosom of the deep;
Such is the Theban Hero's state,
95
Tost in the ceaseless storms of fate.
95
Toils rise on toils, an endless train,
95
As billows on the troubled main;
95
Yet to his virtues just some god
95
Saves him from Pluto's drear abode.
95
Let me then blame thy anxious fear;
95
Far other views if I display,
95
My words bring comfort to thy ear:
95
Thou shou'dst not throw sweet Hope away.
95
The sovereign ruler of our fate
95
Gives mortals no untroubled state;
95
But joy and grief are ever found
95
Revolving their alternate round,
95
As circling in the Arctic skies...
95
The constellations set and rise.
95
Nor Night in sable stole array'd
95
O'er mortals always spreads her solemn shade;
95
Nor always griefs remain,
95
Nor riches; their light wings at once they spread,
95
Away at once are fled;
95
The heart now welcomes joy's bright train,
95
Now sickens at th' approach of pain.
95
Then sink not, Queen, with griefs opprest,
95
But let hope brighten in thy breast;
95
Jove o'er his sons his care extends,
95
And all his glorious race defends.
95
Trachiniae. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.