shouted in triumph and added this boast, "One of Eurystheus' fledglings here lies dead: he hath fallen to avenge his father's enmity." Then on another he 'gan aim his bow -the one who had cowered at the altar's base, thinking to escape unseen. But the ill-starred child prevents the shot, falling at his father's knees, and laying his hand on the hero's neck and chin exclaimed, "Dearest father, slay me not, father: thy, thy child am I: it is not Eurystheus' son thou would'st slay." But he, turning on his son a glaring Gorgon-like eye, as soon as the boy came within range of the pitiless shot, smote him with all a blacksmith's might over the head and dashed a cudgel at his golden head and broke his bones: and from the death-blow of his second son at once was off to add yet a third to the two victims he had already slain. But lo! the wretched mother prevents him and steals away with the child within the house and bars the gates. And Heracles, as though he were at the very Cyclops' work, hews, wrenches away the door and rooting up the posts, laid low his wife and child with one arrow. Then on he rushes to the murder of his sire-but sudden there came a spirit, so to our eyes it seemed, Pallas brandishing her spear over her crested head: she hurled a stone against the breast of Heracles which stayed him at once from his bloodthirstiness and lulled him into sleep, and he fell to earth and dashed his back against a pillar which in the downfall of the house was lying cleft in twain across the floor. And we, freeing our steps from flight, joined old Amphytryon and hasted to fasten bonds. of firm cordage to the pillar, to the intent that when he waked from sleep he might add no work to what he had already done. And there I left the hapless hero sleepingno happy sleep-after the murder of his wife and children: nay I know not of any man whose lot is harder. FROM SOUTHEY'S "JOAN OF ARC." THEN the Maid Rode through the thickest battle; fast they fell, Plunged her strong war-horse; by the noise of arms Or with the lance protended from his front, Thrusts down the thronging squadrons. Where she turns Such was the sound As when a tempest, mingling air and sea, Of horror death was there. They fall transfix'd By the random arrow's point, or fierce-thrust lance, IDEM GRECE. Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἡ ῥά τιν' ἤδη ὑπερμενέων βασιλήων Ἡ μὲν, μάλισθ' ἵν ̓ ὅπλα πυκνοῦται, κόρη A 2 |