Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/418

362 Who strives, I hold him but a foolish man.

Since we must needs die, better 'tis to die

Not with fire roasted, yielding laughter-scoff

To foes, an evil worse than death to me.

Great is our debt of honour to our house:—

Thou hast been crowned with glorious battle-fame;

Thou canst not, must not, die a coward's death:

Nor any witness needs my glorious spouse

That he would not consent to save these sons

Stained with ill-fame: for fathers gently born

Are crushed beneath the load of children's shame.

My lord's example I cannot thrust from me.

Thine own hope—mark how lightly I esteem it:

Thou think'st, from the underworld thy son shall come;

Yet, of the dead, who hath returned from Hades?

Or might we appease this wretch with words, think'st thou?

Never!—of all foes must thou shun the churl.

To wise and nobly-nurtured foes give ground;

So thy submission may find chivalrous grace.

Even now methought, "What if we asked for these

The boon of exile?"—nay, 'twere misery

To give them life with wretched penury linked.

For upon exile-friends the eyes of hosts

Look kindly, say they, one day and no more.

Face death with us: it waits thee in any wise.

Thy noble blood I challenge, ancient friend.

Whoso with eager struggling would writhe out

From fate's net, folly is his eagerness.

For doom's decree shall no man disannul.

Had any outraged thee while yet mine arms