Nurse
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'Twas most dreadful,
As thou shalt hear, for I will tell thee all :
Soon as she entered at the palace gate
And saw her son prepare the funeral bed.
To th' inmovst chamber silent she retired
From every eye, there, at the altar's feet
Falling, lamented loud her widowed state ;
And ever as she lit on aught her hands
Had used in happier days, the tears would flow ;
From room to room she wandered, and if chance
A loved domestic crossed her she would weep
And mourn her fate, for ever now deprived
Of converse sweet, and hymeneal joys ;
Then would she strew her garments on the bed
Of her Alcides (for, concealed, I watched
Her every motion), throw herself upon it,
And as the tears in a warm flood burst forth,
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" Farewell ! " she cried, " for ever farewell now,
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My nuptial couch ! for never shalt thou more
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Keceive this wretched burthen." Thus she spake,
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And with quick hand the golden button loosed,
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Then cast her robe aside, her bosom bared
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And seemed prepared to strike. I ran and told
The dreadful purpose to her son ; too late
We came, and saw her wounded to the heart.
The pious son beheld his bleeding mother,
And wept ; for well he knew, by anger fired,
And the fell centaur's cruel fraud betrayed,
Unweeting she had done the dreadful deed.
Close to her side he laid him down, and joined
His lips to hers, lamenting sore that thus
He had accused her guiltless ; then deplored
His own sad fate, thus suddenly bereaved
Of both his parents. You have heard my tale.
Who to himself shall promise length of life ?
None but the fool. For, oh ! to day alone
Is ours. We are not certain of to-morrow.
Trachiniae. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.