I am the sister of thunder.

What other name can I claim, now I’m a stranger to Jupiter?

As a widow, I’ve given up my heavenly home

And ceded my space in the sky, pummeled by paramours.

I must dwell upon the earth; the others cover the void.

See, here Callisto’s bear guides the Argive fleets,

Pointing to the north pole with her star,

And here, where the day stretches with spring warmth,

My husband’s bullish form shines,

like it did when he bore Tyrian Europa through the waves.

There, the wandering Pleiades extend their dreadful presence

Everywhere, to ship and sea the same.

Here, menacing Orion threatens the gods with his sword,

And golden Perseus grasps his own stars;

Here, the bright signs of the Tyndarid twins, Castor and Pollux, shine,

And those other twins, Diana and Apollo, for whose birth the moving earth stood still.

Not only Bacchus himself, but his mother

Has risen above, and, so no place would be free of insult,

The world wears the garland of his Cretan girl, Ariadne.

But these are old hurts; one single place,

The fierce and feral land of Thebes, strewn with brazen girls—

How often it has hurt me!

Well, let victorious Alcmene ascend and hold my place,

And let her spawn take up his promised star all the same—

That wretch’s birth held back daylight from the world

When Apollo rose late from the dawnside waves,

Commanded to hold daylight submerged in seawater—

But my resentment is not so easily quenched. My raging heart

Wells with endless anger, and my savage sorrow wages

Eternal war, supplanting peace.

What war? Whatever horror the inimical earth bore,

Whatever the sea or air sustained—

Terrible, pestilent, dire, atrocious, wild—

Now lies broken and bent. He overcomes, rises above my malice,

And thrives on my ire. My own hatred

Becomes his grace. When I order tasks too terrible,

I only prove his parentage and make space for spectacle.

From where the Sun renews the day to where he lays it down,

In both extremes tinging the Ethiopians dark with his torch,

He cultivates indomitable reputation and is called a god

By all the world. Now there are no monsters left for me,

And it is less work for Hercules to fulfill my commands

Than for me to command them. He happily accepts my orders.

What cruel dictates of a violent tyrant could harm this youth?

Indeed, he bears as weapons the beasts

Which used to terrify, which he overthrew;

He goes armed with lion and hydra. And it isn’t enough

That the whole earth is at his feet;

Look, he has broken the gate of the underworld king

And brought back above the loot of conquest.

I saw it myself—I saw hell with its covering of night repulsed

And Pluto broken, fraternal spoils displayed for

his father. At that point, why not drag up Dis himself in chains,

subdued and oppressed, that god who drew a lot equal to Jupiter?

Why not reign over captured Erebos and recover the Styx?

Returning from death is too small now. The compact of the dead is destroyed;

The way out of the depths is now cleared for the shades,

And the mysteries of dire death lie open.

But he, wild from having broken open the prison of shadows,

Triumphs over me and, with his domineering grasp,

Leads the Black Dog through the cities of Greece.

I witnessed daylight falter at the sight of Cerberus

And the sun take fright; a tremor went through me, too,

And I shrank from looking upon the triple heads of the beast,

Conquered as I had commanded.

And now I complain of trifles—

We ought to fear for heaven itself, that he might seek a higher throne,

Having conquered the lowest, and rip away the reign of his father.

No, he won’t come to his stars by the easy road, as Bacchus did;

He will seek a path of ruin and try to rule

The emptied world. His ego swells with success,

And he has learned how he can conquer the sky

Just by dint of his own might.

He has borne the weight of the world on his shoulders,

And even that immense mass could not bend him;

The pole sat better on the neck of Hercules than of Atlas.

His back lifted the stars and sky unmoved,

Even with me pressing down. He seeks a road to higher office.

Well, go on, then, rage, go on and crush this man pondering

Such wicked doings, tear him apart yourself with your own hands!

Why would you outsource such hatred? Leave the monsters alone,

Let Eurystheus, himself tired of commanding, lie fallow.

Set free the Titans who disrupted Jupiter’s reign,

Open the cave at Sicily’s vertex,

Let the Dorian earth, trembling with the thrashing of the giant,

Uplift the head of the terrible monster buried beneath,

Let Luna on high conceive new beasts.

But then, he has conquered such petty things.

Do you seek a match for him?

There is none but himself, so now let him fight himself.

Let the Furies be stirred from the depths of Tartarus,

Let fire spread from their flaming hair,

Let their savage hands strike with serpentine whips!

Go now, arrogant one, seek the seat of heaven,

Scorn a human’s place. Do you think now that you have escaped

The Styx and its fearsome shades? Here on earth, I will show you hell.

I will call into the light she who has been shrouded in gloom,

Exiled far beyond the treacherous dead: the goddess Discord,

Guarded by a great mountain set atop her prison cave.

I will bring her forth and draw her out of the innards

Of what is left of hell’s reign. Unthinkable Evil will come,

And raving Impiety stained with the blood of kin,

And Roguery and Madness forever in arms against itself!

This, this is what my pain will use for balm!

Begin, handmaids of Dis! Brandish your burning branches,

Hurry! Let Megaera lead her fearsome snake-ridden fellows

And snatch up a great trunk from the burning pyre with her vicious hand!

Get to it! Seek vengeance for the violated Styx.

Strike his heart, boil his mind with a flame more bitter

Than the one which fuels the forge of Aetna.

If Hercules’ spirit is to be taken, struck by great madness,

My own furor must come first. Juno, why do you hesitate to fall?

Oh, sisters, you must throw me out of my mind first,

Me, if I am to devise some evildoing

Equal to my injury. Let me alter my prayer—

I pray for him to return to see his sons unharmed

And his might undiminished. I have found the time

Where Hercules’ hateful glory will give me joy.

He has conquered me, so let him conquer himself and wish to die,

Who has recently returned from death. In this, at least, it may help me

That he is born of Jupiter. I will stand with him, and,

So that he will not miss with his aim,

balance his arrows with my hand as they fly from the string,

Straighten his maddened weapons, and favor great Hercules in battle,

At long last. With these crimes committed, let

His father admit those hands into heaven!

Now the war must begin; daybreak shines,

And the glowing Sun rises in its saffron glory.