Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/78

50 And bitter unto those whom fate endows

With power to give their city safety's balm.

I go. Farewell! What must befall will I—

One midst a multitude—endure:—what help?

Turns to go.

Abide here, ancient!

Lay not hold on me.

Tarry: why flee?

Thy fortune flies, not I.

Tell citizens and city safety's path.

Ay, fain art thou!—but loth thou soon shalt be.

How?—not desire to save my fatherland?

Wouldst thou indeed hear? Art thou set thereon?

Yea: whereunto more earnest should I be?

Then straightway shalt thou hear mine oracles.