before.—Sudden brightness. ZEUS in the shape of a youth.—MERCURY in the distance. ZEUS. Thou son of Maia! MERCURY. (Kneeling, with his head bowed reverentially.) Zeus! ZEUS. Up! Hasten! Turn Thy pinions' flight toward far Scamander's bank! A shepherd there is weeping o'er the grave Of his loved shepherdess. No one shall weep When Zeus is loving: Call the dead to life! MERCURY. (Rising.) Let but thy head a nod almighty give, And in an instant I am there,—am back In the same instant— ZEUS. Stay! As I o'er Argos Was flying, from my temples curling rose The sacrificial smoke: it gave me joy That thus the people worship me—so fly To Ceres, to my sister,—thus speaks Zeus: "Ten-thousandfold for fifty years to come Let her reward the Argive husbandmen!"— MERCURY. With trembling haste I execute thy wrath,— With joyous speed thy messages of grace, Father of all! For to the deities 'Tis bliss to make man happy; to destroy him Is anguish to the gods. Thy will be done! Where shall I pour into thine ears their thanks,— Below in dust, or at thy throne on high? ZEUS. Here at my throne on earth—within the palace, Of Semele! Away! [Exit Mercury. Does she not come, As is her wont, Olympus' mighty king To clasp against her rapture-swelling breast? Why hastens not my Semele to meet me? A vacant, deathlike, fearful silence reigns On every side around the lonely palace, So wont to ring with wild bacchantic shouts— No breath is stirring—on Cithaeron's height Exulting Juno stands. Will Semele Never again make haste to meet her Zeus? (A pause, after which he continues.) Ha! Can yon impious one perchance have dared To set her foot in my love's sanctuary?— Saturnia—Mount Cithaeron—her rejoicings Fearful foreboding!—Semele—yet peace!— Take courage!—I'm thy Zeus! the scattered heavens Shall learn, my Semele, that I'm thy Zeus! Where is the breath of air that dares presume Roughly to blow on her whom Zeus calls His? I scoff at all her malice.—Where art thou, O Semele? I long have pined to rest My world-tormented head upon thy breast,— To lull my wearied senses to repose From the wild storm of earthly joys and woes,— To dream away the emblems of my might, My reins, my tiller, and my chariot bright, And live for naught beyond the joys of love! Oh heavenly inspiration, that can move Even the Gods divine! What is the blood Of mighty Uranus—what all the flood Of nectar and ambrosia—what the throne Of high Olympus—what the power I own, The golden sceptre of the starry skies— What the omnipotence that never dies, What might eternal,
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