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Theseus
What is this lamentation that I hear, this beating of the breast, these dirges for the dead, with cries that echo from this shrine? How fluttering fear disquiets me,
lest haply my mother have gotten some mischance, in quest of whom I come, for she hath been long absent from home. Ha! what now? A strange sight challenges my speech; I see my aged mother sitting at the altar and stranger dames are with her, who in various note
90
proclaim their woe; from aged eyes the piteous tear is starting to the ground, their hair is shorn, their robes are not the robes of joy.
95
What means it, mother? ’Tis thine to make it plain to me, mine to listen; yea, for I expect some tidings strange.
What is this lamentation that I hear, this beating of the breast, these dirges for the dead, with cries that echo from this shrine? How fluttering fear disquiets me,
lest haply my mother have gotten some mischance, in quest of whom I come, for she hath been long absent from home. Ha! what now? A strange sight challenges my speech; I see my aged mother sitting at the altar and stranger dames are with her, who in various note
90
proclaim their woe; from aged eyes the piteous tear is starting to the ground, their hair is shorn, their robes are not the robes of joy.
95
What means it, mother? ’Tis thine to make it plain to me, mine to listen; yea, for I expect some tidings strange.
Aethra
My son, these are the mothers of those chieftains seven, who fell around the gates of Cadmus’ town. With suppliant boughs they keep me prisoner, as thou seest, in their midst.
100
My son, these are the mothers of those chieftains seven, who fell around the gates of Cadmus’ town. With suppliant boughs they keep me prisoner, as thou seest, in their midst.
100
Theseus
And who is yonder man, that moaneth piteously in the gateway?
And who is yonder man, that moaneth piteously in the gateway?
Aethra
Adrastus, they inform me, king of
Argos
.
105
Adrastus, they inform me, king of
Argos
.
105
Theseus
Are those his children, those boys who stand round him?
Are those his children, those boys who stand round him?
Aethra
Not his, but the sons of the fallen slain.
Not his, but the sons of the fallen slain.
Theseus
Why are they come to us, with suppliant hand outstretched?
Why are they come to us, with suppliant hand outstretched?
Aethra
I know; but ’tis for them to tell their story, my son.
I know; but ’tis for them to tell their story, my son.
Theseus
To thee, in thy mantle muffled, I address my inquiries; unveil thy head, let lamentation be, and speak; for naught can be achieved save through the utterance of thy tongue.
1
110
To thee, in thy mantle muffled, I address my inquiries; unveil thy head, let lamentation be, and speak; for naught can be achieved save through the utterance of thy tongue.
1
110
The Suppliant Maidens. Euripides. E. P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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