Chorus
Lo! E’en now our prince is being carried on a bier from Delphi’s land unto his home. Woe for him and his sad fate, and woe for thee, old sire! for this is not the welcome thou wouldst give Achilles’ son, the lion’s whelp; thyself too dost share his evil lot.
Peleus
Ah! woe is me! here is a sad sight for me to see and take unto my halls! Ah me! ah me! I am undone, thou city of Thessaly! My line now ends; I have no children left me in my home. Oh! the sorrows I seem born to endure! What friend can I look to for relief? Ah, dear lips, and cheeks, and hands! Would thy destiny had slain thee ’neath Ilium’s walls beside the banks of Simois!
Chorus
Had he so died, my aged lord, he had won him honour thereby, and thine had been the happier lot.
Peleus
O marriage, marriage, woe to thee! thou bane of my home, thou destroyer of my city! Ah my child, my boy! would that the honour of wedding thee, fraught with evil as it was to my children and house, had not thrown oer thee, my son, Hermiones deadly net! O that the thunderbolt had slain her sooner! and that thou, rash mortal, hadst never charged the great god Phoebus with aiming that murderous shaft that spilt thy hero-fathers blood!
Chorus Woe! woe! alas! With due observance of funeral rites will I begin the mourning for my dead master.
Peleus Alack and well-a-day! I take up the tearful dirge, ah me! old and wretched as I am.
Chorus ’Tis Heaven’s decree; God willed this heavy stroke.
Peleus O darling child, thou hast left me all alone in my halls, old and childless by thy loss.
Chorus Thou shouldst have died, old sire, before thy children.
Peleus Shall I not tear my hair, and smite upon my head with grievous blows? O city! of both my children hath Phoebus robbed me.
Chorus What evils thou hast suffered, what sorrows thou hast seen, thou poor old man! what shall be thy life hereafter?
Peleus Childless, desolate, with no limit to my grief, I must drain the cup of woe, until I die.
Chorus ’Twas all in vain the gods wished thee joy on thy wedding day.
Peleus All my hopes have flown away, fallen short of my high boasts.
Chorus A lonely dweller in a lonely home art thou.