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272 Where none might see her, on the altar fell,

And wailed aloud that they were desolate,

And wept, poor wretch, still touching household things

Which use had made familiar. Wandering round,

Now here, now there, throughout her dwelling-place,

If she perchance some faithful servant saw,

The poor soul wept, as she did look on them,

Still calling out upon her evil fate,

Her future lot of utter childlessness:

And when this ceased, I see her suddenly

Rush wildly to the bed of Heracles,

And I, close hidden, with a secret eye,

Watched her, and saw her lay the coverlet

Outspread upon the couch of Heracles;

And when this ended, leaping in, she sat,

Just in the very centre of the bed:

And weeping scalding tide of many tears,

Thus spake she: "Ah, my bridal bower, and bed,

Henceforth, farewell; for never more shall ye

Receive me in this couch a slumberer."

And, saying this, with eager hand she loosed

Her robe, where golden buckle fastened it

Below her breast, and tore the garment off

From her left arm and bosom. And I ran

With all my strength to tell her son of this

That she was doing. While we went and came,

We saw that she had struck with two-edged blade

Below the heart and bosom, and her son

Saw it, and groaned. For well he knew, poor wretch,

That he, in wrath, had driven her on to this,

Learning too late from those that are within

That she against her will had done the deed,

Led to it by the Kentaur. And her son,

In deepest woe, ceased not to pour lament,