Children
Poor mother mine, behold I bring my father’s bones gathered from the fire,
a burden grief has rendered heavy, though this tiny urn contains my all.
1125
Chorus
Ah me! ah me! Why bear thy tearful load to the fond mother of the dead,
a handful of ashes in the stead of those who erst were men of mark in Mycenae?
1130
The Suppliant Maidens. Euripides. E. P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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