Chorus
For now no more is my mind free from doubts, unlooked-for sights greet my vision; for lo! I see the morning star of Athens, eye of Hellas, driven by his father’s fury
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to another land. Mourn, ye sands of my native shores, ye oak-groves on the hills, where with his fleet hounds he would hunt the quarry to the death,
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attending on Dictynna, awful queen.
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Hippolytus. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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