At last have I escaped from endless nigh...

At last have I escaped from endless night,

That shadowy realm which close confines the dead.

And now my eyes can scarce endure the light

Which I have long desired. Eleusine now

Has four times reaped her ripened grain, the gift

Triptolemus bestowed; thrice and again

Has Libra measured equal day and night,

Since dubious battling with an unknown fate

Has held me in the toils of life and death.

To me, though dead to all things else, one part

Of life remained, the consciousness of ill.

Alcides was the end. When he came down

To bring the dog by force from Tartarus,

He brought me also to the upper world.

But ah, my wearied frame has lost the strength

It had of old; I walk with faltering steps.

Alas! how great a task it was to reach

The world of light from lower Phlegethon,

To flee from death and follow Hercules!

But why this sound of wailing in my ears?

Let someone tell; for agonies of woe

And grief and lamentations sad I meet

Upon the very threshold of my home---

A fitting welcome to a guest from hell.

Seneca, Phaedra. Trans. Frank J. Miller. 1907.