Chorus.
Which shall come first in my wail, I 1
Which shall be last to prevail,
Is a doubt that will never be done.
Trouble at home may be seen, I 2
Trouble is looked for with teen;
And to have and to look for are one.
Would some fair wind II 1
But waft me forth to roam
Far from the native region of my home,
Ere death me find, oppressed with wild affright
Even at the sudden sight
Of him, the valiant son of Zeus most High!
Before the house, they tell, he fareth nigh,
A wonder beyond thought,
With torment unapproachable distraught.
Hark! . . . . . . . II 2
The cause then of my cry
Was coming all too nigh:
(Doth the clear nightingale lament for nought?)
Some step of stranger folk is this way brought.
As for a friend they love
Heavy and slow with noiseless feet they move.
Which way? which way? Ah me! behold him come.
His pallid lips are dumb.
Dead, or at rest in sleep? What shall I say?
[Heracles is brought in on a litter, accompanied
by Hyllus and an Old Man
Hyl. Oh, woe is me!
My father, piteous woe for thee!
Oh, whither shall I turn my thought! Ah me!
Old M. Hush! speak not, O my child,
Lest torment fierce and wild
Rekindle in thy father’s rugged breast,
And break this rest
