Euripides, Alcestis 213–279: First choral song; Alcestis comes out to die

O Zeus, what way out of these sorrows can be found? how can we loose the bonds of fate that bind our lord? Comes some one forth? Am I at once to cut my hair, and cast the sable robe about me? Too plainly, ay too plainly, friends; still let us to heaven pray; for the gods’ power is very great. O king Paean, devise for Admetus some means of escape from his sorrows. Yes, yes, contrive it; for thou in days gone by didst find salvation for him, so now be thou a saviour from the toils of death and stay bloodthirsty Hades.

Woe! woe! alas! Thou son of Pheres, woe! Ah, thy fate in losing thy wife! Is not this enough to make thee slay thyself, ah! more than cause enough to tie the noose aloft and fit it to the neck? Yea, for to-day wilt thou witness the death of her that was not merely dear, but dearest of the dear. Look, look! she cometh even now, her husband with her, from the house. Cry aloud and wail, O land of Pherae, wail for the best of women, as with sickness worn she passes ’neath the earth to Hades, lord below.

Never, never will I say that marriage brings more joy than grief, as I conjecture by the past and witness these misfortunes of our king, for he when widowed of this noble wife will for the future lead a life that is no life at all.

O sun-god, lamp of day! O scudding clouds that dance along the sky!

He sees us both with anguish bowed, albeit guiltless of any crime against the gods, for the which thy death is due.

O earth, O sheltering roof, and ye my maiden chambers in my native land Iolcos!

Lift thyself, unhappy wife, forsake me not; entreat the mighty gods to pity us.

I see the two-oared skiff, I see it; and Charon, death’s ferryman, his hand upon the boatman’s pole, is calling me e’en now, Why lingerest thou? Hasten. Thou art keeping me. Thus in his eager haste he hurries me.

Ah me! bitter to me is this voyage thou speakest of. Unhappy wife, what woes are ours!

One draws me, draws me hence, seest thou not? to the courts of death, winged Hades glaring from beneath his dark brows. What wilt thou with me? Unhand me. On what a journey am I setting out, most wretched woman I!

Bitter journey to thy friends, yet most of all to me and to thy babes, the partners in this sorrow.

Hands off! hands off at once! Lay me down, I cannot stand. Hades standeth near; and with its gloom steals night upon my eyes. O my children, my children, ye have no mother now. Fare ye well, my babes, live on beneath the light!

Woe is me! this is a message of sorrow to me, worse than aught that death can do. Steel not thy heart to leave me, I implore, by heaven, by thy babes whom thou wilt make orphans; nay, raise thyself, have courage. For if thou die I can no longer live; my life, my death are in thy hands; thy love is what I worship.