Poem by Constance Caroline Woodhill Naden

Hercules

THIS fruitage from the far Hesperides
I bring to great Eurystheus, feared and hated,
Whom I, his slave, nor hate nor fear; my fated,
My full reward, he has no power to seize,
Nor is it bought with golden gauds like these;
I seek supreme delights, untold, undated;
Of joys wherewith these kings of men are sated
Right little recks the Jove-born Hercules.

I live content to bear my destined burden,
To toil unthanked, unhonoured, void of guerdon,
To work a tyrant's will through lonely years;
That, neither shunning pain nor scorning pleasure,
My strenuous soul may win Olympian leisure,
And dwell in peace among the Gods, my peers.

1. To a Hyacinth in January
2. The Sister of Mercy
3. May, 1879
4. December, 1879
5. Love Versus Learning

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