Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/458

430

Brighter it is—more clear than heretofore.

Is this delirium tossing yet thy soul?

This comprehend I not:—yet—yet—it passes,

My late mood—I am coming to myself.

Canst hearken aught then? Clearly canst reply?

Our words late-spoken—father, I forget them.

To what house earnest thou with bridal-hymns?

Echion's—of the Dragon-seed, men say.

Thou barest—in thine halls, to thy lord—whom?

Pentheus—born of my union with his sire.