Now cocks had thrice sung out that night was e’er. 
    Then went Alcmena forth and told the thing
    To Teiresias the seer, whose words were truth,
    And bade him rede her what the end should be:—­
    ’And if the gods bode mischief, hide it not,
    Pitying, from me:  man shall not thus avoid
    The doom that Fate upon her distaff spins. 
    Son of Eueres, thou hast ears to hear.’

      Thus spake the queen, and thus he made reply: 
    “Mother of monarchs, Perseus’ child, take heart;
    And look but on the fairer side of things. 
    For by the precious light that long ago
    Left tenantless these eyes, I swear that oft
    Achaia’s maidens, as when eve is high
    They mould the silken yarn upon their lap,
    Shall tell Alcmena’s story:  blest art thou
    Of women.  Such a man in this thy son
    Shall one day scale the star-encumbered heaven: 
    His amplitude of chest bespeaks him lord
    Of all the forest beasts and all mankind. 
    Twelve tasks accomplished he must dwell with Zeus;
    His flesh given over to Trachinian fires;
    And son-in-law be hailed of those same gods
    Who sent yon skulking brutes to slay thy babe. 
    Lo! the day cometh when the fawn shall couch
    In the wolfs lair, nor fear the spiky teeth
    That would not harm him.  But, O lady, keep
    Yon smouldering fire alive; prepare you piles
    Of fuel, bramble-sprays or fern or furze
    Or pear-boughs dried with swinging in the wind: 
    And let the kindled wild-wood burn those snakes
    At midnight, when they looked to slay thy babe. 
    And let at dawn some handmaid gather up
    The ashes of the fire, and diligently
    Convey and cast each remnant o’er the stream
    Faced by clov’n rocks, our boundary:  then return
    Nor look behind.  And purify your home
    First with sheer sulphur, rain upon it then,
    (Chaplets of olive wound about your heads,)
    Innocuous water, and the customed salt. 
    Lastly, to Zeus almighty slay a boar: 
    So shall ye vanquish all your enemies.”

      Spake Teiresias, and wheeling (though his years
    Weighed on him sorely) gained his ivory car. 
    And Heracles as some young orchard-tree
    Grew up, Amphitryon his reputed sire. 
    Old Linus taught him letters, Phoebus’ child,
    A dauntless toiler by the midnight lamp. 
    Each fall whereby the sons of Argos fell,
    The flingers by cross-buttock, each his man
    By feats of wrestling:  all that boxers e’er,
    Grim in their gauntlets, have devised, or they
    Who wage mixed warfare and, adepts in art,
    Upon the foe fall headlong:  all such lore
    Phocian Harpalicus gave him, Hermes’ son: 
    Whom no man might behold while yet far off
    And wait his armed onset undismayed: 
    A brow so truculent roofed