Ah, ah! see, the bolted doors of the lofty palace are being rolled apart.Ah me! see the wretched children lying before their unhappy father, who is sunk in dreadful slumber after shedding their blood.Round him are bonds and cords, made fast with many knots about the body of Heracles, and lashed to the stone columns of his house.

Chorus LeaderBut he, the aged father, like mother-bird wailing her unfledged brood, comes hastening here with halting steps on his bitter journey.The palace doors opening disclose Heracles lying asleep, bound to a shattered column.

AmphitryonSoftly, softly! you aged sons of Thebes, let him sleep on and forget his sorrows.

ChorusFor you, old friend, I weep and mourn, for the children too and that victorious chief.

AmphitryonStand further off, make no noise nor outcry, do not rouse him from his calm deep slumber.

ChorusO horrible! all this blood—