Book 9
raising both hands up towards the stars of heaven,
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he cried, “Come Juno, feast upon my death;
feast on me, cruel one, look down from your
exalted seat; behold my dreadful end
and glut your savage heart! Oh, if I may
deserve some pity from my enemy,
from you I mean, this hateful life of mine
take from me—sick with cruel suffering
and only born for toil. The loss of life
will be a boon to me, and surely is
a fitting boon, such as stepmothers give!
“Was it for this I slew Busiris, who
defiled his temples with the strangers' blood?
For this I took his mother's strength from fierce
antaeus—that I did not show a fear
before the Spanish shepherd's triple form?
Nor did I fear the monstrous triple form
of Cerberus.—And is it possible
my hands once seized and broke the strong bull's horns?
And Elis knows their labor, and the waves
of Stymphalus, and the Parthenian woods.
For this the prowess of these hands secured
the Amazonian girdle wrought of gold;
and did my strong arms, gather all in vain
the fruit when guarded by the dragon's eyes.
The centaurs could not foil me, nor the boar
that ravaged in Arcadian fruitful fields.
Was it for this the hydra could not gain
double the strength from strength as it was lost?
And when I saw the steeds of Thrace, so fat
with human blood, and their vile mangers heaped
with mangled bodies, in a righteous rage
I threw them to the ground, and slaughtered them,
together with their master! In a cave
I crushed the Nemean monster with these arms;
and my strong neck upheld the wide-spread sky!
And even the cruel Juno, wife of Jove—
is weary of imposing heavy toils,
but I am not subdued performing them.
“A new calamity now crushes me,
