98Yet the loss of his stolen ornament tamed him; all else he keeps unharmed; 99and the damage to his head is hidden by willow leaves or by reeds placed over it. 101But you, fierce Nessus, passion for the same maiden had destroyed, your back pierced by a winged arrow. 103For the son of Jove, returning with his new wife to his father's walls, had come to the swift waters of the Euenus. 105Fuller than usual, swollen by winter rains and thick with whirlpools, the river was impassable. 107To him, fearless for himself but anxious for his wife, came Nessus, strong in limb and knowing the fords, and said, 'By my service she will be set down on that bank, Alcides.
110You, use your strength in swimming!' 111and the Aonian handed over to Nessus the trembling Calydonian girl, pale with fear, afraid both of the river and of Nessus himself. 113Soon, just as he was, heavy with quiver and lion's skin (for he had thrown his club and curved bow across to the bank), 'Since I have begun, let the river be conquered!' 115he said, and does not hesitate, nor seek where the river is gentlest, and scorns to be carried down by the waters' yielding. 118And now, holding the bank, as he was picking up the bow he had thrown, he recognised his wife's voice: and to Nessus, who was preparing to cheat him of what was entrusted to him, he shouts, 'Where is your vain trust in your feet carrying you, violent one?
121It is to you, two-formed Nessus, I speak. 122Hear me, and do not steal what is mine! 123If no reverence for me moved you, at least your father's wheel could have held you back from forbidden unions. 125Yet you will not escape, though you trust in a horse's help: I will catch you with a wound, not with my feet.' 126The deed proves his last words, and with a shot arrow he pierces the fleeing back: the hooked iron stood out from his chest. 129As soon as it was pulled out, blood spurted through both holes, mixed with the venom of the Lernaean poison. 131Nessus catches this, saying to himself, 'For I shall not die unavenged,' and gives a garment soaked in the warm gore as a gift to the woman he had carried off, as though it were a stimulant of love.
134Long was the interval of time between, and the deeds of great Hercules had filled the earth and sated his stepmother's hatred. 136Victorious from Oechalia, he was preparing vowed sacrifices to Cenaean Jove, when talkative Rumour went ahead to your ears, Deianira — Rumour, who delights to add the false to the true and grows from the smallest thing through her lies — saying that the son of Amphitryon was held by love for Iole. 141The loving wife believes it, and, terrified by the report of a new love, at first gave way to tears, and, pitiable, poured out her grief in weeping; 143but then soon, 'Yet why do I weep?' 144she says; 'the mistress will rejoice in these tears.
145Since she is coming, I must hurry and devise something new, while I may and another does not yet hold my marriage bed. 147Shall I complain or be silent? 147Shall I go back to Calydon, or linger here? 148Shall I leave the house, or, if nothing more, stand in their way? 149What if, remembering, Meleager, that I am your sister, I perhaps prepare a crime, and prove by cutting the mistress's throat what injury and a woman's grief can do?' 152Her mind runs off on various courses: to all of them she preferred sending the robe steeped in Nessus' blood, to restore strength to a failing love. 155And to Lichas, who does not know what he is handing on, she herself, not knowing, hands her own grief, and with coaxing words (most wretched woman!) charges him to give the gift to her husband.
157The hero, unknowing, takes it and puts on his shoulders the venom of the Lernaean hydra. 159He was offering incense and words of prayer to the first flames, and pouring wine from a bowl on the marble altars: that deadly force grew warm, and, released by the flames, went spreading far and wide through the limbs of Hercules. 163As long as he could, with his usual courage he held back his groans; 164after his endurance was overcome by the pain, he thrust away the altars and filled wooded Oeta with his cries. 166At once he tries to tear off the deadly robe: where it is pulled, it pulls the skin with it, and, foul to tell, it either clings to the limbs, tried in vain to be torn away, or lays bare the mangled flesh and the huge bones.
170The very blood hisses, as a white-hot blade once did when dipped in a cold pool, and boils in the burning poison.