Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/74

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Thee Fortune hath met,

Strong wrestler, and thrown;

Yet no bounds hast thou set—

Woe's me!—

To thy moan.

O, thy burden is heavy!

Alas!

Yet endure it: thou art not alone.

Not thou art the first

Of bereaved ones.

Ah me!

Such tempest hath burst

Upon many ere thee.

Unto each his mischance, when the surges roll up from Calamity's sea.

O long grief and pain

For belovèd ones passed!