Page:The Plays of Euripides Vol. 1- Edward P. Coleridge (1910).djvu/248

220 the young their place, when they no more can benefit the world.

. Woe, woe! Behold your dead sons' bones are brought hither; take them, servants of your weak old mistress, for in me is no strength left by reason of my mourning for my sons; time's comrade long have I been, and many a tear for many a sorrow have I shed. For what sharper pang wilt thou ever find for mortals than the sight of children dead?

. Poor mother mine, behold I bring my father's bones gathered from the fire, a burden grief has rendered heavy, though this tiny urn contains my all.

. Ah me! ah me! Why bear thy tearful load to the fond mother of the dead, a handful of ashes in the stead of those who erst were men of mark in Mycenæ?

. Woe worth the hour! woe worth the day! Reft of my hapless sire, a wretched orphan shall I inherit a desolate house, torn from my father's arms.

. Woe is thee! Where is now the toil I spent upon my sons? what thank have I for nightly watch? Where the mother's nursing care? the sleepless vigils mine eyes have kept? the loving kiss upon my children's brow?

. Thy sons are dead and gone. Poor mother! dead and gone; the boundless air now wraps them round.

. Turned to ashes by the flame, they have winged their flight to Hades.

. Father, thou hearest thy children's lamentation; say, shall I e'er, as warrior dight, avenge thy slaughter?

. God grant it, O my child!

. Some day, if god so will, shall the avenging of my father be my task; not yet this sorrow sleeps.

. Alas! Fortune's sorrows are enough for me, I have troubles and to spare already.

. Shall Asopus' laughing tide ever reflect my brazen arms as I lead on my Argive troops?