For whom 'tis freely offer'd. Nor wilt thou,
O mighty goddess of th' infernal shades!
Whose image sanctifies this threshold floor,
Disdain the victim.
Phe. All prepared the prey!
And to our blood allied! O Heaven!-and yet
Thou bad'st me weep no more!
And thus again I say, thou shalt not weep
Thy son's, nor I deplore my husband's doom.
Let him be saved, and other sounds of woe
Less deep, less mournful far, shall here be heard
Than those his death had caused. - With some few
But grief, and mingled with a gleam of joy,
E'en while the involuntary tribute lasts,
The victim shall be honour'd who resign'd
Life for Admetus. - Would'st thou know the prey,
The vow'd, the willing, the devoted one,
Offer'd and hallow'd to th' infernal gods,
Father!-'tis I.
Phe. What hast thou done? O Heaven!
What hast thou done? - And think'st thou he is saved
By such a compact? - Think'st thou he can live
Bereft of thee? - Of thee, his light of life,
His very soul! - Of thee, beloved far more
Than his loved parents--than his children more-
More than himself? -Oh! no, it shall not be!
Thou perish, O Alcestis! in the flower
Of thy young beauty!-perish, and destroy
Not him, not him alone, but us, but all,
Who as a child adore thee! Desolate
Would be the throne, the kingdom, reft of thee.
And think'st thou not of those whose tender years
Demand thy care? - thy children! think of them!
O thou, the source of each domestic joy,
Thou, in whose life alone Admetus lives,
His glory, his delight, thou shalt not die
While I can die for thee!-Me, me alone,
The oracle demands-a wither'd stem,
Whose task, whose duty, is for him to die.
My race is run-the fulness of my years,
The faded hopes of age, and all the love
Which hath its dwelling in a father's heart,
And the fond pity, half with wonder blent,
Inspired by thee, whose youth with heavenly
So richly is endow'd;-all, all unite
To grave in adamant the just decree,
That I must die. But thou, I bid thee live!
Pheres commands thee, O Alcestis-live!
Ne'er, ne'er shall woman's youthful love surpass
An aged sire's devotedness.
Thy lofty soul, thy fond paternal love;
Pheres, I know them well, and not in vain
Strove to anticipate their high resolves.
But if in silence I have heard thy words,
Now calmly list to mine, and thou shalt own
They may not be withstood.
Phe. What canst thou say
Which I should hear? I go, resolved to save Him who with thee would perish; - to the shrine E'en now I fly.
Alc. Stay, stay thee! 'tis too late.
Already hath consenting Proserpine,
From the remote abysses of her realms,
Heard and accepted the terrific vow
Which binds me, with indissoluble ties,
To death. And I am firm, and well I know
None can deprive me of the awful right
That yow hath won.
Yes! thou may'st weep my fate :
Mourn for me, father! but thou canst not blame
My lofty purpose. Oh! the more endear'd
My life by every tie-the more I feel
Death's bitterness, the more my sacrifice
Is worthy of Admetus. I descend
To the dim shadowy regions of the dead
A guest more honour'd.
In thy presence here
Again I utter the tremendous vow,
Now more than half fulfill'd. I feel, I know
Its dread effects. Through all my burning veins
Th' insatiate fever revels. Doubt is o'er.
The Monarch of the Dead hath heard-he calls,
He summons me away-and thou art saved,
O my Admetus!
In the opening of the third act, Alcestis enters, with her son Eumeles, and her daughter, to complete the sacrifice by dying at the feet of Proserpine's statue. The following scene ensues between her and Admetus.
Alc. Here, O my faithful handmaids! at the feet Of Proserpine's dread image spread my couch, For I myself e'en now must offer here The victim she requires. And you, meanwhile, My children! seek your sire. Behold him there, Sad, silent, and alone. But through his veins Health's genial current flows once more, as free As in his brightest days: and he shall live— Shall live for you. Go, hang upon his neck, And with your innocent encircling arms Twine round him fondly.
Eum. Can it be indeed,
Father, loved father! that we see thee thus
Restored? What joy is ours!
Adm. There is no joy!
Speak not of joy! away, away! my grief
Is wild and desperate; cling to me no more!
I know not of affection, and I feel
No more a father.
Eum. Oh! what words are these?
Are we no more thy children? Are we not
Thine own? Sweet sister! twine around his neck
More close; he must return the fond embrace.
Adm. O children! O my children! to my soul
Your innocent words and kisses are as darts
That pierce it to the quick. I can no more
Sustain the bitter conflict. Every sound
Of your soft accents but too well recalls
The voice which was the music of my life.
Alcestis! my Alcestis!-was she not
Of all her sex the flower? Was woman e'er
Adored like her before? Yet this is she,
The cold of heart, th' ungrateful, who hath left
Her husband and her infants! This is she,
O my deserted children! who at once
Bereaves you of your parents.
I hear the bitter and reproachful cries
Of my despairing lord. With life's last powers, O! let me strive to soothe him still. Approach, My handmaids, raise me, and support my steps To the distracted mourner. Bear me hence,
That he may hear and see me.
Adm. Is it thou?
And do I see thee still? and com'st thou thus
• To comfort me, Alcestis?
The dying accents thus?
To thy sad couch, return! 'tis meet for me
There by thy side for ever to remain.
Alc. For me thy care is vain. Though meet for
Adm. O voice! O looks of death! are these, are
Thus darkly shrouded with mortality,
The eyes that were the sunbeams and the life
Of my fond soul? Alas! how faint a ray
Falls from their faded orbs, so brilliant once,
Upon my drooping brow! How heavily
With what a weight of death thy languid voice
Sinks on my heart! too faithful far, too fond.
Alcestis! thou art dying-and for me!
Alcestis! and thy feeble hand supports
With its last power, supports my sinking head,
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