Ion
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.
- Hadst thou but seen the babe stretch forth his hands to me!
- To find thy mother’s breast, to nestle in thy arms?
- By being kept therefrom he suffered grievous wrong from me.
- How earnest thou to think of casting forth thy babe?
- Methought the god would save his own begotten child.
- Ah me! what storms assail thy family’s prosperity!
- Why weepest thou, old man, with head close-veiled?
- To see the sorrows of thy sire and thee.
- Such is our mortal life; naught abideth in one stay.
- Daughter, let us cease to dwell on themes of woe.
- What must I do? Misfortune leaves us helpless.
- Avenge thee on the god who first did injure thee.
- How can I, weak mortal as I am, outrun those mightier powers?
- Set fire to Apollo’s awful sanctuary.
- I am afraid; my present sorrows are enough for me.
- Then what thou canst, that dare—thy husband’s death.
- Nay, I do respect his former love in the days when he was good and true.
- At least, then, slay the boy who hath appeared to supplant thee.
- How can I? would it were possible! how I wish it were!
- Arm thy followers with daggers.