ACT THREE
55. Symphony
Scene 1
(Lichas and Trachinians)
56. Recitative
LICHAS
Ye sons of Trachin, mourn your valiant chief,
Return'd from foes and dangers threat'ning death
To fall, inglorious, by a woman's hand.
FIRST TRACHINIAN
Oh, doleful tindings!
LICHAS
As the hero stood
Prepar'd for sacrifice, and festal pomp
Adorn'd the temple, these unlucky hands
Presented him, in Dejanira's name,
A costly robe, the pledge of love's renewal.
With smiles that testified his rising joy,
Alcides o'er his manly shoulders threw
The treach'rous gift. But when the altar's flame
Began to shed its warmth upon his limbs,
The clinging robe, by cursed art envenom'd,
Through all his joints dispers'd a subtle poison.
Frantic with agonizing pain, he flings
His tortur'd body on the sacred floor,
Then strives to rip the deadly garment off,
But with it tears the bleeding, mangled flesh;
His dreadful cries the vaulted roof returns!
57. Air
LICHAS
O scene of unexampl'd woe,
O sun of glory sunk so low!
What language can our sorrow tell?
Gallant, unhappy chief, farewell!
58. CHORUS OF TRACHINIANS
Tyrants now no more shall dread
On necks of vanquish'd slaves to tread.
Horrid forms of monstrous birth
Again shall vex the groaning earth.
Fear of punishment is o'er,
The world's avenger is no more!
Scene 2
(The Temple of Jupiter. Hercules, Priest and Attendants)
59. Accompagnato
HERCULES
O Jove, what land is this, what clime accurst,
By raging Phoebus scorch'd? I burn, I burn,
Tormenting fire consumes me. Oh, I die,
Some ease, ye pitying powers! I rage, I rage,
With more than Stygian pains.
Along my feverish veins,
Like liquid fire the subtle poison hastes.
Boreas, bring thy northern blast,
And through my bosom roar!
Or, Neptune, kindly pour
Ocean's collected flood
Into my breast and cool my boiling blood!
60. Recitative
HYLLUS
Great Jove, relieve his pains!
HERCULES
Was it for this unnumber'd toils I bore?
O Juno and Eurystheus, I absolve ye!
Your keenest malice yield to Dejanira's,
Mistaken, cruel, treach'rous Dejanira!
Oh, this curst robe! It clings to my torn sides
And drinks my vital blood.
HYLLUS
Alas, my father!
HERCULES
My son, observe thy dying sire's request!
While yet I live, bear me to Œta's top;
There, on the summit of that cloud-capped hill,
The tow'ring oak and lofty cypress fell,
And raise a funeral pile: upon it lay me.
Then fire the kindling heap, that I may mount
On wings of flame, to mingle with the gods!
HYLLUS
O glorious thought! Worthy the son of Jove!
HERCULES
My pains redouble. Oh, be quick, my son.
And bear me to the scene of glorious death!
HYLLUS
How is the hero fall'n!
61. Air
HYLLUS
Let not fame the tidings spread
To proud Oechalia's conquer'd wall!
The baffled foe will lift his head,
And triumph in his victor's fall.
Let not fame… (da capo)
(Exeunt. Hercules borne off)
Scene 3
(The Palace. Dejanira alone)
62. Accompagnato
DEJANIRA
Where shall I fly? Where hide this guilty head?
O fatal error of misguided love!
O cruel Nessus, how art thou reveng'd!
Wretched I am! By me Alcides dies!
These impious hands have sent my injur'd lord
Untimely to the shades! Let me be mad!
Chain me, ye Furies, to your iron beds,
And lash my guilty ghost with whips of scorpions!
See, see, they come! Alecto with her snakes,
Megaera fell, and black Tisiphone!
See the dreadful sisters rise,
Their baneful presence taints the skies!
See the snaky whips they bear!
What yellings rend my tortur'd ear!
Hide me from their hated sight,
Friendly shades of blackest night!
Alas, no rest the guilty find
From the pursuing furies of the mind!
Scene 4
(Dejanira; to her Iole)
63. Recitative
DEJANIRA
Lo, the fair fatal cause of all this ruin!
Fly from my sight, detested sorceress, fly,
Lest my ungovern'd fury rush upon thee,
And scatter thee to all the winds of Heav'n!
Alas, I rave! The lovely maid is innocent,
And I alone the guilty cause of all!
IOLE
Though torn from every joy, a father's love,
My native land and dear-priz'd liberty.
By Hercules' arms, still must I pity
The countless woes of this unhappy house.
64. Air
IOLE
My breast with tender pity swells
At sight of human woe;
And sympathetic anguish feels
Where'er Heav'n strikes the blow.
My breast… (da capo)
Scene 5
(To them the Priest of Jupiter, Hyllus, Lichas and Trachinians)
65. Recitative
PRIEST OF JUPITER
Princess, rejoice, whose Heav'n-directed hand
Has rais'd Alcides to the court of Jove's!
DEJANIRA
Speak, priest, what means this dark,
mysterious greeting?
That he is dead, and by this fatal hand,
Too sure, alas, my bleeding heart divines.
PRIEST
Borne, by his own command, to Oeta's top,
Stretched on a funeral pile, the hero lay.
The crackling flames surround his manly limbs,
When lo, an eagle, stooping from the clouds,
Swift to the burning pile his flight directs!
There lights a moment, then, with speedy wing,
Regains the sky. Astonish'd, we consult
The sacred grove, where sounds oracular
From vocal oaks disclose the will of Jove.
Here the great sire his offspring's fate declar'd:
«His mortal part by eating fires consum'd,
His part immortal to Olympus borne,
There with assembl'd deities to dwell!»
66. Air
LICHAS
He, who for Atlas propp'd the sky,
Now sees the sphere beneath him lie,
In bright abodes
Of kindred gods,
A new-admitted guest,
With purple lips
Brisk nectar sips,
And shares th'ambrosial feast.
67. Recitative
DEJANIRA
Words are too faint to speak the warring passions
That combat in my breast: grief, wonder, joy
By turns deject and elevate my soul.
PRIEST
(to Iole)
Nor less thy destiny, illustrious maid,
Is Jove's peculiar care, who thus decrees:
«Hymen with purest joys of love shall crown
Oechalia's princess and the son of Hercules»
HYLLUS
How blest is Hyllus, if the lovely Iole,
Consenting, ratifies the gift of Heav'n!
IOLE
What Jove ordains, can Iole resist?
68. Duet
IOLE
O prince, whose virtues all admire,
Since Jove has every bar remov'd,
I feel my vanquish'd heart conspire
To crown a flame by Heav'n approv'd.
HYLLUS
O princess, whose exalted charms
Above ambition fire my breast,
How great my joy to fill those arms,
At once with love and empire blest!
IOLE
I grieve no more, since now I see
All happiness restor'd in thee.
HYLLUS
I ask no more, since now I find
All earthly good in thee combin'd.
69. Recitative
PRIEST
Ye sons of freedom, now, in every clime,
With joyful accents sing the deathless chief,
By virtue to the starry mansions rais'd.
70. CHORUS OF TRACHINIANS
To him your grateful notes of praise belong,
The theme of liberty's immortal song!
Aw'd by his name, oppression shuns the light,
And slavery hides her head in depths of night,
While happy climes to his example owe
The blessings that from peace and freedom flow.
To him… (da capo)
(libretto: Thomas Broughton)
