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Rh And half I know he bears some weight of woe,

For no short time is passed, but ten long months

Added to five, and still no message comes.

And some sore woe comes on; for so it tells,

The tablet which he left us, and I pray

The Gods that gift may not bring woe to me.

Attend. My mistress, Deianeira, I have seen thee

Bewailing oft, with loud and bitter wails,

The absence of thy Heracles; but now,

(If it be right with bond-slave's thoughts to school

Those that are free, and I must speak for thee),—

How comes it thou art rich in many sons,

Yet sendest none to track thy husband's steps?

Not even Hyllos, whom 'twere fit to send,

If he care aught about his father's fate,

To find it prospering. And lo! he comes,

Just at the moment, speeding by the house.

So, if I seem to give thee counsel good,

Thou may'st at once make use of him and it.

Deian. My son, dear boy, good words of counsel fall

E'en from the meanest. Lo! this woman speaks,

Slave though she be, a free and noble speech.

Hyllos. What was it, mother? Tell me, if thou may'st.

Deian. That not to seek where now thy father dwells,

After such length of absence, brings thee shame.

Hyllos. Yet if one trust to rumours, I know well.

Deian. And where dost hear, my son, that he abides?

Hyllos. Long while, from seed-time unto seed-time round,

They say he served a Lydian lady's will.

Deian. Could he do that, one might hear anything.