Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/226

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The twining hip-throw both essay

And hurtling foreheads’ fearful play,

And groans from each were wrung.

But the tender fair one far away

Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer,

(A mother’s heart will heed the thing I say,)

Till won by him who freed her from her fear.

Sudden she leaves her mother’s gentle side,

Borne through the waste, our hero’s tender bride.

. Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house

Holds converse with the captives ere he go,

I have stol’n forth to you, partly to tell

The craft my hand hath compassed, and in part,

To crave your pity for my wretchedness.

For I have taken to my hearth a maid,—

And yet, methinks, no maiden any more,

Like some fond shipmaster, taking on board

A cargo fraught with treason to my heart.

And now we two are closed in one embrace

Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed

For faith in guarding home this dreary while

Hath the kind Heracles, our trusty spouse,

Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught

This same distemperature, I know not how

To harbour indignation against him.

But who that is a woman could endure

To dwell with her, both married to one man?

One bloom is still advancing, one doth fade.

The budding flower is cropped; the full-blown head

Is left to wither, while love passeth by

Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid

He will be called my husband, but her mate,

For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife

Would take this angerly, as I have said.

But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way,

Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent

This heart-break. I had hidden of long time