Chorus
Alas, alas! My mind is trembling with fear,
trembling; and through my flesh goes a throb of pity, of pity for the hapless mother. Which of her two sons will stain the other with blood—
1285
ah, for the suffering! O Zeus, O earth, alas!—a brother’s throat, a brother’s life, through his shield, through his blood? Ah me! ah me! which of them
1290
will I lament as dead?
1295
The Phoenician Women. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
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