Chorus
Woe, woe! Behold your dead sons’
bones are brought hither; take them, servants of your weak old mistress, for in me is no strength left by reason of my mourning for my sons; time’s comrade long have I been, and many a tear for many a sorrow have I shed.
1115
For what sharper pang wilt thou ever find for mortals than the sight of children dead?
1120
The Suppliant Maidens. Euripides. E. P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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