Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/380

282 And many a male wild olive, and on them

Place this my body, and then, taking fire

Of pine-wood torch, must burn it. Let no tear

Of wailing enter in, but do thy deed,

If thou art mine, without or tear or groan;

Or else, though I be in the grave, my curse

Shall rest upon thee, grievous evermore.

Hyllos. What say'st thou, Ο my father? Woe is me,

That thou hast thus dealt with me!

Hera. I have said

What thou must do, or nevermore be called

My son, but seek another father for thee.

Hyllos. Ah me! once more. And dost thou bid me, father,

To be thy slayer and thy murderer?

Hera. Not so bid I; but of the ills I bear,

To be the one great healer, strong to save.

Hyllos. And how can I work health by burning thee?

Hera. If this thou fearest, do at least the rest.

Hyllos. I shall not grudge to bear thy body there.

Hera. And wilt thou heap the pyre I bade thee heap?

Hyllos. All but the touching it with these my hands:

In all things else my labour shall not fail.

Hera. That, then, shall be enough. But add for me

One little favour to these greater ones.

Hyllos. Though it be very great, it shall be done.

Hera. Thou knowest that maiden, child of Eurytos?

Hyllos. Thou speakest, so I guess, of Iole?

Hera. E'en so. And this I charge thee, Ο my son,

When I am dead, if thou wilt reverence show,

Be mindful of the oath thou now hast sworn,