Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/242

186 In what proud house hast thou a bondman's place,

Leaving thy woeful sister lone

Here in the halls ancestral of our race

In sore distress to moan?

Come, a Redeemer from this anguish, heeding

My desolation and my pain:

Come Zeus, come Zeus, the champion of a bleeding

Father most foully killed—to Argos leading

The wanderer's feet again.

Set down this pitcher from thine head:

Let me prevent the morn

With wailings for a father dead,

Shrieks down to Hades borne,

Through the grave's gloom, O father, ringing:

Through Hades' hall to thee I call,

Day after day my cries outflinging;

And aye my cheeks are furrowed red

With blood by rending fingers shed.

Mine hands on mine head smiting fall—

Mine head for thy death shorn.

Rend the hair grief-defiled!

As swan's note, ringing wild

Where some broad stream still-stealeth,

O'er its dear sire outpealeth,

Mid guileful nets who lies

Dead—so o'er thee the cries

Wail, father, of thy child,

Thee, on that piteous death-bed laid

When that last bath was o'er!

Woe for the bitter axe-edge swayed,

Father, adrip with gore!