The Suppliant Maidens
Euripides
Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. I. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1906.
- Poor mother mine, behold I bring my father’s bones gathered from the fire,
- a burden grief has rendered heavy, though this tiny urn contains my all.
- Ah me! ah me! Why bear thy tearful load to the fond mother of the dead,
- a handful of ashes in the stead of those who erst were men of mark in Mycenae?
- Woe worth the hour! woe worth the day! Reft of my hapless sire, a wretched orphan shall I inherit a desolate house, torn from my father’s arms.
- Woe is thee! Where is now the toil I spent upon my sons? what thank have I for nightly watch? Where the mother’s nursing care? the sleepless vigils mine eyes have kept? the loving kiss upon my children’s brow?
- Thy sons are dead and gone. Poor mother!
- dead and gone; the boundless air now wraps them round.[*](The second half of this line is assigned to the Chorus in the Greek.)
- Turned to ashes by the flame, they have winged their flight to Hades.[*](These lines are assigned to the Chorus in the Greek.)
- Father, thou hearest thy children’s lamentation; say, shall I e’er, as warrior dight, avenge thy slaughter?
- God grant it, O my child!
- Some day, if god so will, shall the avenging of my father be my task; not yet this sorrow sleeps.