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208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 432

To me, a wicked man who is also eloquent
Seems the most guilty off them all. He'll cut your throat
As bold as brass, because he knows he can dress up murder
In handsome words. He's not so clever after all.
For me, the man who is a villain, but clever
in speech, would have to pay the highest fine;
confident of cloaking his villainy in fine words
he dares anything; still, he's not overwise.
Visitations of love that come
Raging and violent on a man
Bring him neither repute nor goodness.
But if Aphrodite descends in gentleness
No other goddess brings such delight.
When passionate desires
descend in full force they never enhance
men's fame or virtue,
but if Aphrodite approaches
with reserve, there is
no goddess so gracious in her favors.
Earth, awake! Bright arrows of the Sun,
Look! Look down on the accursed woman
Before she lifts up a murderous hand
To pollute it with her children's blood!
Earth and dazzling ray of Sun,
look down, look down on this murderous woman,
keep her from laying her bloody,
kin-murdering hands on her own sons.
Down by the altar steps, hoping he was unseen,
Another boy was crouching. Heracles aimed at him;
The child was quicker -- he darted to his father's knees,
Reached for his beard and neck and cried, "I am your son --
Yours, not Eurystheus'. Father dear, don't kill your son!"
His father's eyes were like a Gorgon's -- twisted, cruel.
He could not use his arrows -- the boy stood too close;
So, like a blacksmith forging iron, he raised his club
High, and upon his son's fair head he crashed it down,
Shattering the skull.
And he was aiming his bow at another, who had cowered
around the altar's foundation, thinking that he was hidden,
and the wretch feel at his father's knees first,
and throwing his hands towards his father's chin and neck
said, "Dearest father, don't kill me;
I am yours, your child, you won't be killing Eurystheus'."
But he, since his child stood within the ruinous bow's range,
rolling his wild-looking Gorgon's eyes,
raised his club above his head, like a smith forging iron,
struck it against the child's blond head,
and shattered the bones.