Heracles Mad (115-236)

But I see Lycus, the ruler of this land, drawing near the house.

One question, if I may, to this father of Heracles and his wife; and certainly as your lord and master I have a right to put what questions I choose. How long do you seek to prolong your lives? What hope, what aid do you see to save you from death?

Do you trust that these children’s father, who lies dead in the halls of Hades, will return? How unworthily you show your sorrow at having to die, you to Amphitryon after your idle boasts, scattered broadcast through Hellas, that Zeus was partner in your marriage-bed and was your partner in children;

and you, to Megara after calling yourself the wife of so peerless a lord.

After all, what was the fine exploit your husband achieved, if he did kill a water-snake in a marsh or that monster of Nemea? which he caught in a snare, for all he says he strangled it to death in his arms.

Are these your weapons for the hard struggle? Is it for this then that Heracles’ children should be spared? A man who has won a reputation for valor in his contests with beasts, in all else a weakling;

who never buckled shield to arm nor faced the spear, but with a bow, that coward’s weapon, was ever ready to run away. Archery is no test of manly bravery; no! he is a man who keeps his post in the ranks and steadily faces the swift wound the spear may plough.

My policy, again, old man, shows no reckless cruelty, but caution; for I am well aware I slew Creon, the father of this woman, and am in possession of his throne. So I have no wish that these children should grow up and be left to take vengeance on me in requital for what I have done.

Let Zeus defend his his own share in his son; but as for me, Heracles, it is my concern on your behalf to prove by what I say this tyrant’s ignorance; for I cannot allow you to be ill spoken of. First then for that which should never have been said—for to speak

of you, Heracles, as a coward is, I think, outside the pale of speech—of that must I clear you with heaven to witness. I appeal then to the thunder of Zeus, and the chariot in which he rode, when he pierced the Giants, earth’s brood, to the heart with his winged shafts,

and with gods uplifted the glorious triumph song; or go to Pholoe and ask the insolent tribe of four-legged Centaurs, you craven king, ask them who they would judge the bravest of men; will they not say my son, who according to you is but a pretender?

Were you to ask Euboean Dirphys, your native place, it would not sing your praise, for you have never done a single gallant deed to which your country can witness. Next you disparage that clever invention, an archer’s weapon;

come, listen to me and learn wisdom. A man who fights in line is a slave to his weapons, and if his fellow-comrades want for courage he is slain himself through the cowardice of his neighbors, or, if he breaks his spear, he cannot defend his body from death, having only one means of defence;

whereas all who are armed with the trusty bow, though they have but one weapon, yet is it the best; for a man, after discharging countless arrows, still has others with which to defend himself from death, and standing at a distance keeps off the enemy, wounding them for all their watchfulness with invisible shafts,

and never exposing himself to the foe, but keeping under cover; and this is by far the wisest course in battle, to harm the enemy and keep safe oneself, independent of chance. These arguments completely contradict yours

with regard to the matter at issue. Next, why are you desirous of slaying these children? What have they done to you? One piece of wisdom I credit you with, your coward terror of a brave man’s descendants. Still it is hard on us,

if for your cowardice we must die; a fate that ought to have overtaken you at our braver hands, if Zeus had been fairly disposed towards us. But, if you are so anxious to make yourself supreme in the land, let us go into exile;

abstain from all violence, else you will suffer by it whenever the god causes fortune’s breeze to veer round.

Ah! you land of Cadmus—for to you too will I turn, distributing my words of reproach—is this your defense of Heracles and his children?

the man who faced alone all the Minyans in battle and allowed Thebes to see the light with free eyes. I cannot praise Hellas, nor will I ever keep silence, finding her so craven as regards my son; she should have come with fire and sword and warrior’s arms

to help these tender chicks, to requite him for all his labors in purging land and sea. Such help, my children, neither Hellas nor the city of Thebes affords you; to me a feeble friend you look, and I am empty sound and nothing more.

For the vigor which once I had, has gone from me; my limbs are palsied with age, and my strength is decayed. If I were young and still powerful in body, I would have seized my spear and dabbled those flaxen locks of his with blood, so that the coward would now

be flying from my spear beyond the bounds of Atlas.

Have not the brave among mankind a fair occasion for speech, although slow to begin?