Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/45

Rh Nor hearten thee in travail, O my child,

There, where nought gentler than the mother is.

For I must die, nor shall it be tomorn,

Nor on the third day comes on me this bane:

Straightway of them that are not shall I be.

Farewell, be happy. Now for thee, my lord,

Abides the boast to have won the noblest wife,

For you, my babes, to have sprung from noblest mother.

Fear not; for I am bold to speak for him

This will he do, an if he be not mad.

It shall, it shall be, dread not thou: for thee

Living I had; and dead, mine only wife

Shalt thou be called: nor ever in thy stead

Shall bride Thessalian hail me as her lord.

None is there of a father so high-born,

None so for beauty peerless among women.

Children enough have I: I pray the Gods

For joy in these—our joy in thee is nought.

Not for a year's space will I mourn for thee,

But long as this my life shall last, dear wife,

Loathing my mother, hating mine own sire,

For in word only, not in deed, they loved me.

Thou gav'st in ransom for my life thine all

Of precious, and didst save. Do I not well

To groan, who lose such yokefellow in thee?

Revels shall cease, and gatherings at the wine,

Garlands, and song, which wont to fill mine house.

For never more mine hand shall touch the lyre: