Deianira
I am happy —
To see my Hercules with victory crowned
'Tis fit I should rejoice ; and yet, my friends,
If we consider well, we still should fear
For the successful, lest they fall from bliss.
It moves my pity much when I behold
These wretched captives in a foreign land,
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Without 8, parent and without a home..
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Thus doomed to slavery here, who once perhaps
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Enjoyed fair freedom's best inheritance :
O Jove ! averter of each mortal ill,
Let not my children ever feel thy arm
Thus raised against them? or, if 'tis decreed,
Let it not be whilst Deianira Jives :
The sight of these alarms my fears. But tell me
Thou poor afflicted captive, who thou art. \To Idle.
Art thou a mother ? or, as by thy years
Thou seemst, a vii-gin, and of noble birth?
Canst not thou tell me, Lichas, whence she sprang ?
Inform me, for of all these slaves she most
Hath won my pity, and in her alone
Have I observed a firm and generous mind.
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Lie. Why ask of me 1 I know not who she is;
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Perhaps of no mean rank.
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Trachiniae. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.