Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/253

Rh

To Orestes.

I wail for thee, for whom there wait

The drops barbaric, on thy brow

To fall, to doom thee to be slain.

This asks not pity. Stranger maids, farewell.

To Pylades.

Thee count I blessed for thy fate,

Thine happy fate, fair youth, that thou

Shalt tread thy native shore again.

Small cause to envy friends, when die their friends.

Ah, cruel journeying for thee!

Woe! thou art ruined utterly!

Alas! woe worth the day!

Whether of you is deeper whelmed in woe?

For yet my soul in doubt sways to and fro—

Thee shall I chiefly wail, or thee? How shall I say?

'Fore heaven, Pylades, is thy thought mine?—

I know not: this thy question baffles me.