Andromache.
My streaming eyelids weep,
As from a sheer crag's steep
The sunless waters well.
Molossus.
Woe's me! O might revealing
But come of help, of healing,
Our darkness to dispel!
Menelaus.
What dost thou to fall at my feet, making moan
To a rock of the sea, to a wave doom-crested?
True helper am I, good sooth, to mine own:
No love-spell from thee on my spirit hath rested. 540
Too deeply it drained my life-blood away
To win yon Troy and thy dam for a prey.
Herein be thy joy and be this thy crown
When thou passest to Hades' earth-dens down!
Chorus.
Lo, lo, I see yon Peleus drawing nigh! 545
In haste his aged foot strides hitherward.
Enter Peleus, attended.
Peleus.
Ho ye! ho thou, the overseer of slaughter!
What meaneth this?—how is the house, and why,
In evil case? What lawless plots weave ye?
Menelaus, hold! Press not where justice bars. 550
