Crowning the utmost wishes of thy Lord,
Speak therefore what thou think'st of our distress
In language suited to the griefs I feel

For the deceas'd whom I brought forth; persuade
Thy Son, whose succour we implore, to march
Across Ismenos' channel, and consign
To me the bodies of the slaughter'd youths,
That I beneath the monumental stone
May bury them with every sacred rite.
Though not by mere necessity constrain'd,
We at thy knees fall down and urge our suit
Before these altars of the Gods, where smokes
The frequent incense: for our cause is just:
And through the prosperous fortunes of thy Son
With power sufficient to remove our woes
Art thou endued: but since the ills I suffer
Thy pity claim, a miserable suppliant,

I crave that to these arms thou would'st restore
My Son, and grant me to embrace his corse.

ÆTHRA.

OD E.
I.

Here a fresh groupe of mourners stands, Your followers in succession wring their hands.

CHORUS.

Attune expressive notes of anguish,

O ye sympathetic choir,

And in harmonious accents languish,
Such as Pluto loves t' inspire.
Tear those cheeks of pallid hue,

And let gore your bosoms stain,

For from the living is such honour due
To the shades of heroes slain,
Whose corses welter on th' embattled plain.
II.

I feel a pleasing sad relief,

Unsated as I brood o'er scenes of grief;

My lamentations never ending,

Are like the moisture of the sea

In drops from some high rock descending,
Which flows to all eternity.

For those youths who breathe no more
Nature bids the Mother weep

And with incessant tears their loss deplore:
In oblivion would I steep

My woes, and welcome death's perpetual sleep.

THESEUS, ÆTHRA, ADRASTUS, CHORUS.

THESEUS.

What plaints are these I hear? who strike their breasts, Attuning lamentations for the dead

In such loud notes as issue from the fane?
Borne hither by my fears with winged speed,
I come to see if any recent ill

May have befallen my Mother; she from home
Hath long been absent.-Ha! what objects new
And strange are these which now mine eyes behold?
Fresh questions hence arise: my aged Mother
Close to the altar seated with a band

Of foreign matrons, who their woes express
In various warbled notes, and on the ground
Shed from their venerable eyes a stream

Of tears their heads are shorn, nor is their garb
Suited to those who tend the sacred rites?

What means all this? My Mother, say; from you
I wait for information, and expect

Some tidings of importance,

ÆETHRA.

O my Son

These are the Mothers of those seven fam'd chiefs
Who perish'd at the gates of Thebes: you see
How they with suppliant branches on all sides
Encompass me.

THESEUS.

But who is he who groans

So piteously, stretcht forth before the gate?

ÆETHRA.

Adrastus, they inform me, king of Argos.

THESEUS.

Are they who stand around, those (3) Matrons' Sons?

ETHRA.

Not theirs; they are the children of the slain.

THESEUS.

Why with those suppliant tokens in their hands Come they to us?

ÆTHRA.

I know: but it behoves ·

Them, O my Son, their errand to unfold.

THESEUS.

To thee who in a fleecy cloak art wrapp'd,

My questions I address: thy head unveil,
Cease to lament, and speak; for while thy tongue
Utters no accent, nought canst thou obtain.

ADRASTUS.

O king of the Athenian land, renown'd
For your victorious arms, to you, O Theseus.
And to your city, I a suppliant come.

THESEUS.

What's thy pursuit, and what is it thou need'st?

ADRASTUS.

Know you not how ill-fated was the host

I led ?

THESEUS.

Thou didst not pass thro' Greece in silence.

ADRASTUS.

The noblest youths of Argos there 1 lost.

THESEUS.

Such dire effects from luckless war arise.

(3) Finding by Dr. Musgrave's note, that there is the authority of a manuscript for reading Trwy instead of rare, I gladly avail myself of it, as an amendment of the text which Minerva's apostrophe at the close of this play to Egialeus son of Adrastus strongly supports.

ADRASTUS.

From Thebes I claim'd the bodies of the slain.

THESEUS.

Did'st thou rely on Heralds to procure

Leave to inter the dead?

Ask not the reason: they are now elate With a success they know not how to bear.

THESEUS.

Art thou come hither to consult me then, Or on what errand?

ADRASTUS.

'Tis my wish, O Theseus, That you the Sons of Argos would redeem.

THESEUS,

But where is Argos now? were all her boasts Of no effect?

ADRASTUS.

We by this one defeat

Are ruin'd, and to you for succour come.

THESEUS.

This on thy private judgement, or the voice Of the whole city?

ADRASTUS.

All the race of Danaus

Implore you to inter the slain.

THESEUS.

To what brave chiefs

Of Argos didst thou give thy Daughters' hands?

ADRASTUS.

My family in wedlock I with those Of our own nation join'd not.

THESEUS.

Didst thou yield

Those Argive damsels to some foreign bridegrooms

ADRASTUS.

To Tydeus; and to Polynices sprung

From Theban sires.

THESEUS.

What dotage could induce thee

To form alliances like these?

ADRASTUS.

Dark riddles

Phoebus propounded, which my judgement sway'd.

THESEUS.

Such union for the virgins to prescribe,

What said Apollo?

ADRASTUS.

That I must bestow

My Daughters on the lion and the boar.

THESEUS.

But how didst thou interpret this response Of the prophetic God?