The Phoenician Women
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.
- and now he hides himself in darkness, always weeping and lamenting. And you, my child, I hear you have married and are begetting children to your joy in a foreign home,
- and are courting a foreign alliance, a ceaseless regret to me your mother and to Laius your ancestor, ruin brought by your marriage. I was not the one who lit for you the marriage-torch,
- the custom in marriage for a happy mother; Ismenus had no part at your wedding in supplying the luxurious bath, and there was silence through the streets of Thebes, at the entrance of your bride.
- Curses on them! whether the sword or strife or your father that is to blame, or heaven’s visitation that has burst riotously upon the house of Oedipus; for on me has come all the anguish of these evils.
- Their offspring are a wonderful thing to women; all of them have some love for their children.
- Mother, I have come among enemies wisely or foolishly; but all men must love their native land; whoever says otherwise
- is pleased to say so, but his thoughts are turned elsewhere. I was so fearful and in such terror, lest my brother should kill me by treachery, that I came through the city sword in hand, looking all round. I had one advantage,
- the truce and your word, which brought me to to the paternal walls; and I arrived here weeping, to see after a long time my home and the altars of the gods, the training ground, scene of my childhood, and the water of Dirce, from which I was unjustly driven to live in a foreign city,
- a stream of tears flowing from my eyes. Now, grief upon grief, I see you with hair cut short and in black robes, alas for my sorrows!
- What a terrible thing, mother, is hatred between dear friends.
- and how hard it makes reconciliation
- What is my old father doing within the house, looking on darkness? What of my two sisters? Surely the unhappy ones lament my exile?
- Some god with evil intent is destroying the race of Oedipus.
- So it began, my childbearing was unholy, and in an evil hour I married your father and you were born. But why repeat these horrors? What the gods send we have to bear. I am afraid to ask you what I would, for fear of stinging your heart; yet I long to.
- No, question me, leave out nothing; for your will, mother, is my pleasure too.
- Well then, first I ask you what I long to have answered. What is it, to be deprived of one’s country? Is it a great evil?
- The greatest; harder to bear than tell.