Heracles
Euripides
Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.
- with arrows dipped in the venom of the hundred-headed hydra.
- This is Hera’s work; but who lies there among the dead, old man?
- My son, my own enduring son, that marched with gods to Phlegra’s plain, there to battle with giants and slay them, warrior that he was.
- Ah, ah! whose fortune was ever so cursed as his?
- Never will you find another mortal that has suffered more or been driven harder.
- Why does he veil his head, poor wretch, in his robe?
- He is ashamed to meet your eye;
- his kinsman’s kind intent and his children’s blood make him abashed.
- But I come to sympathize; uncover him.
- My son, remove that mantle
- from your eyes, throw it from you, show your face to the sun. As a counterweight, fighting along with my tears, I entreat you as a suppliant, as I grasp your beard, your knees, your hands, and let fall