The Trojan Women
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.
- I weep for you now left behind.
- Now do you behold your piteous end.
- And you, my house, where I gave birth.
- O my children! bereft of her city as your mother is, she now is losing you. Oh, what mourning and what sorrow! . . .
- oh, what endless streams of tears in our houses! The dead alone forget their griefs and never shed a tear.
- What sweet relief to sufferers it is to weep, to mourn, lament, and chant the dirge that tells of grief!
- Do you see this, mother of that man, Hector, who once laid low in battle many a son of Argos?
- I see that it is heaven’s way to exalt what men accounted nothing, and ruin what they most esteemed.