Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/62

34 Nor I, left lorn, should thus mine ills bemoan.

Yet all that may the fortunate betide

Fell to thy lot; in manhood's prime a king:

Me hadst thou son and heir unto thine house,

So that thou wast not, dying, like to leave

A childless home for stranger folk to spoil.

Nor canst thou say that flouting thy grey hairs

I gave thee o'er to death, whose reverence

For thee was passing word:—and this the thank

That thou and she that bear me render me!

Wherefore, make haste: beget thee other sons

To foster thy grey hairs, to compass thee

With death's observance, and lay out thy corpse.

Not I with this mine hand will bury thee.

For thee dead am I. If I see the light,—

Another saviour found,—I call me son

To her, and loving fosterer of her age.

For nought the agèd pray for death's release,

Plaining of age and weary-wearing time.

Let death draw near—who then would die? Not one:

No more is eld a burden unto them.

O hush! Suffice the affliction at the doors.

O son, infuriate not thy father's soul.

Son, whom, think'st thou—some Lydian slave or Phrygian

Bought with thy money?—thus beratest thou?

What, know'st thou not that I Thessalian am,

Sprung from Thessalian sire, free man true-born?

This insolence passeth!—hurling malapert words