Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/115

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Is it not then my due to share thine ills?

'Twere a maid's shame,—exile with her blind sire!

Nay, but—so she be wise—her glory, father.

That I may touch thy mother, guide me now.

Lo, touch her with thine hand—so old, so dear!

Ah mother! Ah, most hapless helpmeet mine!

Piteous she lies, with all ills crowned at once.

Eteokles' corse, and Polyneikes'—where?

Here lie they, each by other's side outstretched.

Lay my blind hand upon their ill-starred brows.

Lo there: touch with thine hand thy children slain.