(Ant. 2)
When his mother would not be contented
To hide her for him in the tomb,
Nor his grey-haired father consented,
Unholpen he looked on his doom.
Whom they bare—the hard-hearted!—they cared not,
Though hoary their locks were, to save! 470
Thou art gone, for thy great love spared not
Thy blossom of youth from the grave.
Ah, may it be mine, such communion
Of hearts!—'tis vouchsafed unto few:—
Then ours should be sorrowless union
Our life-days through.
Enter Herakles.
Herakles.
Strangers, who dwell in this Pheraian land,
Say, do I find Admetus in his home?
Chorus.
Herakles, in his home is Pheres' son.
Yet say, what brings thee to Thessalian land,
That thou shouldst come to this Pheraian town? 480
Herakles.
A toil for King Eurystheus, lord of Tiryns.
Chorus.
And whither journeyest? To what wanderings yoked?
Herakles.
For Thracian Diomedes' four-horsed chariot.
