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Chorus
O, too clearly didst thou hear our queen uplift her voice to tell her startling tale of piteous suffering. Come death ere I reach thy state of feeling,
1
loved mistress.
O horrible! woe, for these miseries! woe, for the sorrows on which mortals feed! Thou art undone! thou hast disclosed thy sin to heaven’s light. What hath each passing day and every hour in store for thee?
365
Some strange event will come to pass in this house. For it is no longer uncertain where the star of thy love is setting, thou hapless daughter
2
of Crete.
370
O, too clearly didst thou hear our queen uplift her voice to tell her startling tale of piteous suffering. Come death ere I reach thy state of feeling,
1
loved mistress.
O horrible! woe, for these miseries! woe, for the sorrows on which mortals feed! Thou art undone! thou hast disclosed thy sin to heaven’s light. What hath each passing day and every hour in store for thee?
365
Some strange event will come to pass in this house. For it is no longer uncertain where the star of thy love is setting, thou hapless daughter
2
of Crete.
370
Hippolytus. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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