Nurse: ⁠Why dost thou feed thy passion's flames, poor child,
And nurse thy grief? Why cherish needless fear?
He did feel love for Iole, 'tis true;
But in the time while yet her father reigned,
And while she was a haughty monarch's child.
The princess now has fallen to the place
Of slave, and love has lost its power to charm, 355
Since her unhappy state has stol'n from her
Her loveliness. The unattainable
Is ever sought in love. But from the thing
That is within his reach love turns away.
Deianira: ⁠Nay: fallen fortunes fan the flames of love;
And for this very reason does he love,
Because her home is lost, and from her head
The crown of gleaming gold and gems has fallen. 360
For these her woes he pities her—and loves.
'Twas e'er his wont to love his captive maids.
Nurse: ⁠'Tis true, he loved the captive Trojan maid,
Young Priam's sister; but he gave her up.
Recall how many dames, how many maids
Aforetime he has loved, this wandering swain. 365
The Arcadian maiden Auge, while she led
The choral dance of Pallas, roused his love
And suffered straight his passionate embrace.
But from his heart she quickly fell away,
And now retains no traces of his love.
Why mention others? The Thespiades
Enjoyed the passing love of Hercules, 370
But are forgotten. Soon, a wanderer
Upon Timolus, he caressed the queen
Of Lydia, and, smitten by her love,
He sat beside the whirling distaff there,
His doughty fingers on the moistened thread.
His neck no longer bears the lion's spoil;
But there he sits, a languid, love-sick slave,
His shaggy locks with Phrygian turban bound, 375
And dripping with the costly oil of myrrh.
Yes, everywhere he feels the fires of love,