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Come forth, salute your father, and with me

Bid him farewell: be reconciled to friends

Ye, with your mother, from the hate o'erpast.

Truce is between us, rancour hath given place.

Clasp ye his right hand.—Woe for ambushed ills!

I am haunted by the shadow of hidden things!

Ah children, will ye thus, through many a year

Living, still reach him loving arms? Ah me,

How swift to weep am I, how full of fear!

Feuds with your father ended—ah, so late!—

Have filled with tears these soft-relenting eyes.

And from mine eyes start tears of pale dismay.

Ah may no evil worse than this befall!

Lady, I praise this mood, yet blame not that:

'Tis nothing strange that womankind should rage

When the spouse trafficketh in alien marriage.

But now to better thoughts thine heart hath turned,

And thou, though late, upon the victor side

Hast voted: a wise woman's deed is this.

And for you, children, not unheedfully

Your sire hath ta'en much forethought, so help heaven.

For ye, I ween, in this Corinthian land

Shall with your brethren stand the foremost yet.

Grow ye in strength: the rest shall by your sire,

And whatso God is gracious, be wrought out.

You may I see to goodly stature grown,

In manhood's prime, triumphant o'er my foes.

Thou, why bedew'st thou with wan tears thine eyes,