Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/102

74 Our king, as victor, winner of the fight,

Casting his sword down, fell to spoiling him,

Heeding but that, nor recking his own risk;

Which thing undid him. Faintly breathing yet,

Still grasping in his grievous fall his sword,

First-fallen Polyneikes with hard strain

Plunged into Eteokles' heart the blade.

Gnashing in dust their teeth, there side by side

They lie, those twain, the victory doubtful still.

Alas! I wail thy sore griefs, Oedipus!

Thy malisons, I wot, hath God fulfilled.

Ah, but hear now what woes remain to tell.

Even as her fallen sons were leaving life,

Their wretched mother rusheth on the scene,—

She and the maid, with haste of eager feet;

And, seeing them stricken with their mortal wounds,

She wailed, "Ah sons, too late for help I come!"

Then, falling on her sons, on each in turn,

She wept, she wailed, her long vain nursing-toil

Bemoaning: and their sister at her side—

"Props of your mother's age, dear brethren, who

Leave me a bride unwed!" One dying gasp

Hard-heaving from his breast, King Eteokles

His mother heard, touched her with clammy hand,

Uttered no word, but from his eyes he spake

With tears, as giving token of his love.

But Polyneikes breathing yet, and gazing

On sister and on aged mother, spake:

"Mother, our death is this. I pity thee,