That's left to cheer my woeful heart. No fruit
Of all thy toils have I as yet enjoyed;
But ever either stormy seas I've feared,
Or monsters. Every savage king who raves
In all the world, for impious altars famed,1255
Is cause of dread to me. Thy father longs
For joy of thee, to feel and see thee near.
Hercules: Why I should longer keep my soul in life,
And linger on the earth, there is no cause;
For I have lost my all: my balanced mind,1260