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 SEMI-CHORUS 1

Neither has he been found along the path

That leads from the eastern glances of the sun.

CHORUS From whom, oh from whom? what hard son of the waves,

Plying his weary task without thought of sleep,

Or what Olympian nymph of hill or stream that flows

Down to the Bosporus' shore,

Might I have tidings of my lord

Wandering somewhere seen

Fierce of mood? Grievous it is

When I have toiled so long, and ranged far and wide

Thus to fail, thus to have sought in vain.

Still the afflicted hero nowhere may I find.

TECMESSA

Alas, woe, woe!

CHORUS

Whose cry was it that broke from yonder copse?

TECMESSA

Alas, woe is me!

CHORUS

It is the hapless spear-won bride I see,

Tecmessa, steeped in that wail's agony.

TECMESSA

I am lost, destroyed, made desolate, my friends.

CHORUS

What is it? Speak.

TECMESSA

Aias, our master, newly slaughtered lies

Yonder, a hidden sword sheathed in his body.