Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/254

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Who is the maiden? With how Greek a heart

She asked us of the toils in Ilium,

The host's home-coming, Kalchas the wise seer

Of birds, Achilles' name! How pitied she

Agamemnon's wretched fate, and questioned me

Touching his wife, his children! Sure, her birth

Is thence, of Argos; else she ne'er would send

A letter thither, nor would question thus,

As one whose welfare hung on Argos' weal.

Mine own thought but a little thou forestallest,

Save this—that the calamities of kings

All know, who have had converse with the world.

But my mind runneth on another theme.

What? Share it, and thou better shalt conclude.

'Twere base that I live on, when thou art dead:

With thee I voyaged, and with thee should die.

A coward's and a knave's name shall I earn

In Argos and in Phocis' thousand glens.

Most men will think—seeing most men be knaves—

That I forsook thee, escaping home alone,—

Yea, slew thee, mid the afflictions of thine house

Devising, for thy throne's sake, doom for thee,

As being to thine heiress sister wed.