'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woe
She makes her way, while in her breast she bears
The pitiful remains of Hercules.
[Enter Alcmena, carrying in her bosom a funeral urn.]
Alcmena: Ye powers of heaven, I bid you fear the fates.
[Holding up the urn.]
How small a space Alcides' ashes fill!
To this small compass has that giant come!
O shining sun, how great a man has gone1760
To nothingness. Alas, this agéd breast