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 For shouldst thou perish and forsake me in death,

That very day assuredly I too

Shall be seized by the Argives, with thy son

To endure henceforth the portion of a slave.

Then one of my new masters with barbed words

Shall wound me scoffing: "See the concubine

Of Aias, who was mightiest of the host,

What servile tasks are hers who lived so daintily!"

Thus will men speak, embittering my hard lot,

But words of shame for thee and for thy race.

Nay, piety forbid thee to forsake

Thy father in his drear old age—thy mother

With her sad weight of years, who many a time

Prays to the gods that thou come home alive.

And pity, king, thy son, who without thee

To foster his youth, must live the orphaned ward

Of loveless guardians. Think how great a sorrow

Dying thou wilt bequeath to him and me.

For I have nothing left to look to more

Save thee. By thy spear was my country ravaged;

And by another stroke did fate lay low

My mother and my sire to dwell with Hades.

Without thee then what fatherland were mine?

What wealth? On thee alone rests all my hope.

O take thought for me too. Do we not owe

Remembrance, where we have met with any joy?

For kindness begets kindness evermore.

But he who from whose mind fades the memory

Of benefits, noble is he no more.

CHORUS

Aias, would that thy soul would feel compassion,

As mine does; so wouldst thou approve her words.

AIAS

Verily my approval shall she win,

If only she find heart to do my bidding.