Chorus
Ah me! I see no way at all to turn death’s hand aside; all, all, ere this, is brought to light owing to that fatal draught of the wine-god’s juice mixed for death with drops of viper’s gore, quick to slay; detected is our offering to the dead; for me my life must end in woe, while death by stoning waits my mistress. How can I escape? Shall I take wings and fly away, or creep beneath the darksome caverns of the earth, striving to shun the doom of death by stoning? or shall I mount the car drawn by swiftest steeds, or embark upon a ship?
Chorus
No man may hide his guilt, save when some god of his own will steals him away. Ah! my poor mistress! what suffering now awaits thy soul? Must then our wish to work another harm end in our own discomfiture, as justice doth decree?
Creusa My trusty maids, the men of death are on my track; the vote of Delphi goes against me; they give me up to die.
Chorus Unhappy one! we know thy sad mischance, how thou art placed.
Creusa Oh! whither can I fly? for scarce had I the start of my pursuers from the house in my race for life; ’tis by stealth alone that I have thus far escaped my foes.
Chorus Where shouldst thou fly except to the altar?
Creusa What good is that to me?
Chorus To slay a suppliant is forbidden.
Creusa Aye, but the law has given me over to death.
Chorus Only if thou fall into their hands.
Creusa Look! here they come, cruel champions of vengeance, eagerly brandishing their swords.
Chorus Sit thee down upon the altar of burnt-offering! for if thou art slain there, thou wilt fix upon thy murderers the stain of bloodguiltiness; but we must bear our fortune.
Cite This Text