Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/364

266 Hyllos. My mother, I could wish one thing of three—

Or that thou should'st no longer live; or else

Live, and be called my mother nevermore;

Or gain in some way better heart than now.

Deian. What is there, son, thus worthy of thy hate?

Hyllos. Know, of thy husband, whom I father call,

Thou art, this very day, the murderess.

Deian. Ah me, my son! what word is this thou bring'st?

Hyllos. One which no power on earth can cancel now;

For who can make undone what once has been?

Deian. What say'st thou, Ο my son? By what man taught,

Say'st thou that I have done so base a deed?

Hyllos. I, with these eyes my father's piteous fate

Myself beholding, to no tales gave heed.

Deian. Where did'st thou meet him? Where stand by and see?

Hyllos. If thou must learn, 'tis well to tell thee all.

When he had sacked the town of Eurytos,

Renowned in story, and was on his way

With trophies and first-fruits of victory,

There stands a high Eubœan promontory,

Keneian named, sea-washed on either side,

And there to Zeus, his father, he marks out

His altars, and the consecrated grove,

And there with eager welcome first I saw him;

And, when about to offer sacrifice

Of many victims, Lichas comes from home,

His home-reared herald, bearing in his arms

Thy gift, the fatal robe. And he, arrayed

In it, as thou did'st bid him, slaughtered there

Twelve oxen tall, the first-fruits of the spoil;

But altogether, cattle great and small,