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HYL.
I will obey thee, father, though my heart
Sinks heavily in approaching such a theme.

HER.
Before aught else, lay thy right hand in mine.

HYL.
Why so intent on this assurance, sire?

HER.
Give it at once and be not froward, boy.

HYL.
There is my hand: I will gainsay thee nought.

HER.
Swear by the head of him who gave me life.

HYL.
Tell me the oath, and I will utter it.

HER.
Swear thou wilt do the thing I bid thee do.

HYL.
I swear, and make Zeus witness of my troth.

HER.
But if you swerve, pray that the curse may come.

HYL.
It will not come for swerving:–but I pray.

HER.
Now, dost thou know on Oeta’s topmost height
The crag of Zeus?

HYL.
I know it, and full oft
Have stood there sacrificing.

HER.
Then even there,
With thine own hand uplifting this my body,
Taking what friends thou wilt, and having lopped
Much wood from the deep-rooted oak and rough
Wild olive, lay me on the gathered pile,
And burn all with the touch of pine-wood flame.
Let not a tear of mourning dim thine eye;
But silent, with dry gaze, if thou art mine,
Perform it. Else my curse awaits thee still
To weigh thee down when I am lost in night.

HYL.
How cruel, O my father, is thy tongue!

HER.
‘Tis peremptory. Else, if thou refuse,
Be called another’s and be no more mine.

HYL.
Alas that thou shouldst challenge me to this,
To be thy murderer, guilty of thy blood!

HER.
Not I, in sooth: but healer of my pain,
And sole preserver from a life of woe.

HYL.
How can it heal to burn thee on the pyre?

HER.
If this act frighten thee, perform the rest.

HYL.
Mine arms shall not refuse to carry thee.

HER.
And wilt thou gather the appointed wood?

HYL.
So my hand fire it not. In all but this,
Not scanting labour, I will do my part.

HER.
Enough. ‘Tis well. And having thus much given
Add one small kindness to a list so full.

HYL.
How great soe’er it were, it should be done.

HER.
The maid of Eurytus thou knowest, I ween.

HYL.
Of Iole thou speak’st, or I mistake.

HER.
Of her. This then is all I urge, my son.
When I am dead, if thou wouldst show thy duty,
Think of thine oath to me, and, on my word,
Make her thy wife: nor let another man
Take her, but only thou; since she hath lain
So near this heart. Obey me, O my boy!
And be thyself the maker of this bond.
To spurn at trifles after great things given,
Were to confound the meed already won.

HYL.
Oh, anger is not right, when men are ill!
But who could bear to see thee in this mind?

HER.
You murmur, as you meant to disobey.

HYL.
How can I do it, when my mother’s death
And thy sad state sprang solely from this girl?
Who, not possessed with furies, could choose this?
Far better, father, for me too to die,
Than to live still with my worst enemy.