Euripides, The Phoenician Women, ed. Gilbert Murray, 293

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Χορός

γονυπετεῖς ἕδρας προσπίτνω σʼ, ἄναξ,

τὸν οἴκοθεν νόμον σέβουσʼ —

ἔβας ὢ χρόνῳ γᾶν πατρῴαν.
295

ἰὼ ἰώ· πότνια, μόλε πρόδομος,

ἀμπέτασον πύλας.

κλύεις, ὦ τεκοῦσα τόνδε μᾶτερ;

τί μέλλεις ὑπώροφα μέλαθρα περᾶν

θιγεῖν τʼ ὠλέναισιν τέκνου;
300

Ἰοκάστη

Φοίνισσαν βοὰν

κλύουσʼ, ὦ νεάνιδες, γηραιὸν

πόδʼ ἕλκω, τρομερὰν βάσιν· ἰὼ τέκνον,

χρόνῳ σὸν ὄμμα μυρίαις τʼ ἐν ἁμέραις
305

προσεῖδον· ἀμφίβαλλε μα-

στὸν ὠλέναισι ματέρος,

παρηίδων τʼ ὄρεγμα βο-

στρύχων τε κυανόχρωτα χαί-

τας πλόκαμον, δέραν σκιάζων ἁμάν.

ἰὼ ἰώ, μόλις φανεὶς
310

ἄελπτα κἀδόκητα ματρὸς ὠλέναις.

τί φῶ σε; πῶς ἅπαντα

καὶ χερσὶ καὶ λόγοισι

πολυέλικτον ἁδονὰν

ἐκεῖσε καὶ τὸ δεῦρο
315

περιχορεύουσα τέρψιν παλαιᾶν λάβω

χαρμονᾶν; ἰὼ τέκος,

ἔρημον πατρῷον ἔλιπες δόμον

φυγὰς ἀποσταλεὶς ὁμαίμου λώβᾳ,

ἦ ποθεινὸς φίλοις,
320

ἦ ποθεινὸς Θήβαις.

ὅθεν ἐμάν τε λευκόχροα κείρομαι

δακρυόεσσʼ ἀνεῖσα πένθει κόμαν,

ἄπεπλος φαρέων λευκῶν, ὦ τέκνον,

δυσόρφναια δʼ ἀμφὶ τρύχη τάδε
325

σκότιʼ ἀμείβομαι.

The Phoenician Women. Euripides. ed. Gilbert Murray. Oxford. 1913.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.

Current edition Perseus

Φοίνισσαι (Greek) (Euripides. Euripidis Fabulae, Vol. III. Murray, Gilbert, editor. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913. (Reprinted 1920-1978))

Translations (3)

The Phoenician Maidens Perseus (Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891. (Modernized by Perseus.)) — 293 focus

I fall to my knees before you, lord, honoring the custom of my home.

At last you have come to your native land. Hail to you! all hail! Lady, come from the house, open wide the gates! Do you hear, you who gave birth to this man? Why do you delay to leave the sheltered hall
295

and hold your son in your embrace?
300

Jocasta

Maidens, I hear your Phoenician voice, and my old feet drag their tottering steps. O my son,

at last after countless days I see your face; throw your arms about your mother’s breast, stretch out to me your cheeks and the dark, curly locks of your hair, overshadowing my neck.
305

Hail to you! all hail! scarcely here in your mother’s arms, beyond hope and expectation. What can I say to you? How in every way, by hands, by words, in the mazy delight
310

of the dance, shall I find the pleasure of my former joy? Ah! my son, you left your father’s house desolate, when your brother’s outrage drove you away in exile.
315

Truly you were missed alike by your friends and Thebes . And so I cut my white hair and let it fall for grief, in tears, not clad in robes of white, my son,
320

but taking instead these dark rags.
325

The Phoenician Virgins (OCR draft) Experimental (The Phoenician Virgins. Robert Potter's English verse translation, first published in 1781–1783; text from the 1808 Oxford printing.)

No corresponding passage available

German (J. J. C. Donner, 1841; OCR review) (OCR draft) Experimental (Euripides. Deutsch in den Versmaßen der Urschrift. Volume 1, Heidelberg: C. F. Winter, 1841. Harvard OCR compared with an independent BSB copy. Native Donner verse citations, Murray reference cards, explicitly located notes and page facsimiles. Unresolved OCR, verse divisions, unlocated notes and printed errata are documented in the source review.) — 293 focus

Laß mich, zu Füßen dir, dich anbeten, Fürst,

Die Weise meines Landes ehrend!

Du kommst, ach, so spåt in dein heimisch Land!
295

Auf, eil' hervor, Gebieterinn,

Deffne die Pforten ihm!

Du, die ihn geboren, Mutter, hörst du?

Warum såumst du noch in dem gewölbten Gemach?

Schlinge die Arm' um deinen Sohn!
300

Jokaste.

Ihr Mädchen, drinnen im Palast vernahm mein Ohr Phô= nikerlaute,

Und heraus, zitternd vor Alter, wankt mein matter Schritt.¹

Ach, trautes Kind,

Nach langer Zeit, viel tausend Tagen seh' ich nun

Dein Auge wieder; mit dem Arm umschlinge deiner Mutter Brust;
305

Laß deine Wange küssen, laß die schwarzen

Locken des Hauptes, hinwallend um meinen Hals, dunkel ihn beschatten!

So kamst du denn, o Wonne!

Liegst unerwartet, ungehofft, im Mutterarm!

Was sag' ich dir? Wie drück' ich
310

Mit Hånden, wie mit Worten

Meiner Wonn' Unendlichkeit,

Dich dort und hier umhupfend, aus?

Und wie kost' ich, Kind, wiederum alter Lust Seligkeit ?

Mein Kind, trautes Kind,
315

Wie still ward, das Vaterhaus, seit du flohst,

Seit in die Fremde frevelnd dich der Bruder stieß,

Wohl ersehnt manchem Freund,

Wohl ersehnt Thebe's Volk!

Daher schor ich ab mein schneeweißes Haar,
320

Das ich, von Thränen feucht, trauernd hinflattern lief;

Kein weißes Gewand mehr schmuckt mich, o Kind;

In dies nächtlich distre Kleid hull' ich Jammernde die Glieder mir.

Euripides The Phoenician Women 293

ed. Gilbert Murray

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