fraught with evil as it was to my children and house, had not thrown oer thee, my son, Hermiones deadly net! O that the thunderbolt had slain her sooner! and that thou, rash mortal, hadst never charged the great god Phoebus with aiming that murderous shaft that spilt thy hero-fathers blood!Phoebus was said to have aimed the arrow of Paris, that slew Achilles.

ChorusWoe! woe! alas! With due observance of funeral rites will I begin the mourning for my dead master.PeleusAlack and well-a-day! I take up the tearful dirge, ah me! old and wretched as I am.Chorus’Tis Heaven’s decree; God willed this heavy stroke.