Tecmessa
1 beg tliee, he persuaded.
To think thy words will ever change my purpose.
Oh, happiest, best abode, my native isle,
Fair Salamis, encompassed by the sea,
On thee whilst gods and men indulgent smile,
My country, oh behold and pity me !
A long, long time on Ida's plain
Thus doomed inglorious to remain,
While circling years roll o'er my wretched head ;
New terrors still aifright me here,
Still is my heart appalled with fear.
Lest I should visit soon the mansions of the dead.
The bravest leader of the Grecian host,
Untimely visited by wrath divine.
And in the desp'rate cruel frenzy lost.
There was a time when sent by thee
He gained the wreath of victory.
Though now his weeping friends lament his fall :
The ungrateful chiefs revere no more
The virtues they admired before ;
His gallant deeds are now forgotten all.
Weighed down with years, when thou in hoary age,
Unhappy mother, shalt these tidings hear
How wilt thou weep and wail with grief sincere !
Not like the plaintive nightingale
That warbles sweet her tender tale,
But with loud shrieks of horrible despair :
With sharpest anguish sore opprest,
Then shalt thou beat thy aged breast,
And in deep sorrow rend thy wild dishevelled hair.
'Tis better far to die than, hopeless still
Of cure, to languish under sore disease ;
When mortals suffer such distinguished ill
The silent tomb is liberty and ease.
His ancient fame and glory lost,
Sinks down at last o'erwhelmed with foul disgiace*
How will hapless father bear
His son's distressful fate to hear,
E'en such as never fell on ^acus his race !
