Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/152

54 Where are ye, Ο my children? Come, oh, come

To these your brother's hands, that now have brought

Your father's once bright eyes to this fell pass,

Who, Ο my children, blind and knowing nought,

Became your father e'en by her who bore me.

I weep for you, (for sight is mine no more,)

Picturing in mind the sad and dreary life

Which waits you at men's hands in years to come;

For to what friendly gatherings will ye go,

Or solemn feasts, from whence, for all the joy

And pride, ye shall not home return in tears?

And when ye come to marriageable age,

Who is there, Ο my children, rash enough

To make his own the shame that then will fall,

Reproaches on my parents, and on yours?

What evil fails us here? Your father killed

His father, and was wed in incest foul

With her who bore him, and you twain begat

Of her who gave him birth. Such shame as this

Will men lay on you, and who then will dare

To make you his in marriage? None, not one,

My children! but ye needs must waste away,

Unwedded, childless. Thou, Menœkeus' son,

Since thou alone art left a father to them,

(For we their parents perish utterly,)

Suffer them not to wander husbandless,

Nor let thy kindred beg their daily bread,

Nor make them sharers with me in my woe;

But look on them with pity, seeing them

At their age, but for thee, deprived of all.

Ο noble soul, I pray thee, touch my hand

In token of consent. And ye, my girls,

Had ye the minds to hearken I would fain

Give ye much counsel. As it is, pray for me