Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/151

Rh A fiercer nature than Tyrrhenian Scylla.

But—for untold revilings would not sting

Thee, in thy nature is such hardihood:—

Avaunt, thou miscreant stained with thy babes' blood!

For me remains to wail my destiny,

Who of my new-wed bride shall have no joy,

And to the sons whom I begat and nurtured

Living I shall not speak—lost, lost to me!

I might have lengthened out long controversy

To these thy words, if Father Zeus knew not

How I have dealt with thee and thou with me.

'Twas not for thee to set my couch at nought

And live a life of bliss, bemocking me!

Nor for thy princess, and thy marriage-kinsman,

Kreon, unscathed to banish me this land!

Wherefore a tigress call me, an thou wilt,

Or Scylla, haunter of Tyrrhenian shore;

For thine heart have I wrung, as well behoved.

Ha, but thou sorrowest too, thou shar'st mine ills!

O yea: yet grief is gain, so thou laugh not.

O children mine, what miscreant mother had ye!

O sons, destroyed by your own father's lust!