The Suppliants.
417
Sorrows like-feathered never wilt thou see.
For who might guess that, in unhoped-for flight,
Thine ancient kindred should to Argos drift,
Cowering through horror of the nuptial couch.
King.
From these Agonian gods what your request,
Holding these white-wreathed branches newly-culled?
Chorus.
That to Ægyptos' sons I be not slave.
King.
Speakest from hate or fearing tie unlawful? 330
Chorus.
One's kinsmen who would wish to buy as lords?[1]
King.
By such alliance waxeth strength to mortals.
Chorus.
Ay, and the wretched to desert is easy.
King.
How then towards you pious may I prove?
- ↑ The MS. gives ὤνοιτο, which I have retained, and which seems to me to give a more satisfactory meaning than ὄνοιτο, the correction of Boissonade. Paley adopts the latter, and translates the line thus: "Why, who would object to masters if they were friends?"
