Chorus
Joy is here and sorrow too,— for the state fair fame, and for our captains double meed of honour. Bitter for me it is to see the limbs of my dead sons, and yet a welcome sight withal, because I shall behold the unexpected day after sorrow’s cup was full.
Chorus
Would that Father Time had kept me unwed from my youth up e’en till now when I am old! What need had I of children? Methinks I should not have suffered excessively, had I never borne the marriage-yoke; but now I have my sorrow full in view, the loss of children dear.
Chorus
Lo! I see the bodies of the fallen youths. Woe is me! would I could join these children in their death and descend to Hades with them!
Adrastus Mothers, raise the wail for the dead departed; cry in answer when ye hear my note of woe.
Chorus My sons, my sons! O bitter words for loving mothers to address to you! To thee, my lifeless child, I call.
Adrastus Woe! woe!
Chorus Ah me, my sufferings!
Adrastus Alas!
Chorus […]
Adrastus We have endured, alas!—
Chorus Sorrows most grievous.
Adrastus O citizens of Argos! do ye not behold my fate?
Chorus They see thee, and me the hapless mother, reft of her children.
Adrastus Bring near the blood-boltered corpses of those hapless chiefs, foully slain by foes unworthy, with whom lay the decision of the contest.
Chorus Let me embrace and hold my children to my bosom in my enfolding arms.
Adrastus There, there! thou hast—
Chorus Sorrows heavy enough to bear.
Adrastus Ah me!
Chorus Thy groans mingle with those of their parents.
Adrastus Hear me.
Chorus O’er both of us thou dost lament.
Adrastus Would God the Theban ranks had laid me dead in the dust!
Chorus Oh that I had ne’er been wedded to a husband!
Adrastus Behold this sea of troubles! Ah! hapless mothers.
Chorus Our nails have ploughed our cheeks in furrows, and o’er our heads have we strewn ashes.
Adrastus Ah me! ah me! Oh that earth’s floor would swallow me, or the whirlwind snatch me away, or Zeus’s flaming bolt descend upon my head!
Chorus Bitter the marriages thou didst witness, bitter the oracle of Phoebus! The curse of Oedipus, fraught with sorrow, after desolating his house, is come on thee.
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