Muse
O my son, your mother’s grief, I mourn for you in my native strains of woe! What a journey you made to
Troy
, a very path of ill-fortune and sorrow!
895
starting, in spite of all my warnings and your father’s earnest prayers, in defiance of us. Woe to me for you, my dear, dear son! Ah, woe!
900
Rhesus. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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