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.

  1. Evil has changed sides; he who was once a mighty king is now turning his life backward into the road to Hades. Hail to you! Justice and heavenly retribution.
  2. At last have you reached the goal where your death will pay the penalty, for your insults against your betters.
  3. Joy makes my tears burst forth. He has come back—
  4. which I never once thought in my heart would happen—the prince of the land.
  5. Come, old friends, let us look within to see if someone has met the fate I hope.
Lycus
  1. Ah me! ah me!
Chorus
  1. Ha! how sweet to hear that opening note of his within the house; death is not far off him now. The prince cries out, wailing a prelude of death.
Lycus
  1. O kingdom of Cadmus, I am perishing by treachery!
Chorus
  1. You were yourself for making others perish; endure your retribution; it is only the penalty of your own deeds you are paying.
  2. Who was he, only a mortal, that aimed his silly saying at the blessed gods of heaven with impious blasphemy, maintaining that they are weaklings after all?
  3. Old friends, our godless foe is now no more.
  4. The house is still; let us turn to the dance.
  5. Yes, for fortune smiles upon my friends as I desire.
Chorus
  1. Dances, dances and banquets now prevail throughout the holy town of Thebes.
  2. For change from tears, change from sorrow give birth to song. The new king is gone; our former monarch
  3. rules, having made his way even from the harbor of Acheron. Hope beyond all expectation is fulfilled.
Chorus
  1. The gods, the gods take care to heed the right and wrong. It is their gold and their good luck
  2. that lead men’s hearts astray, bringing in their train unjust power. For no man ever had the courage to reflect what reverses Time might bring; but, disregarding law to gratify lawlessness, he shatters
  3. the black chariot of prosperity.
Chorus
  1. O Ismenus, deck yourself with garlands! Break forth into dancing, you paved streets of our seven-gated city! come Dirce, fount of waters fair;