Chorus
Sorrow’s charm doth drive me wild, insatiate, painful,
endless, even as the trickling stream that gushes from some steep rock’s face; for ’tis woman’s way to fall a-weeping o’er
80
the cruel calamity of children dead. Ah me! would I could die and forget my anguish!
85
The Suppliant Maidens. Euripides. E. P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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