to avenge the mourning dead; but to me no champion remains; for he who yet was left hath been snatched away.
Ch. Hapless art thou, and hapless is thy lot!
El. Well know I that, too well,—I,850 whose life is a torrent of woes dread and dark, a torrent that surges through all the months!
Ch. We have seen the course of thy sorrow.
El. Cease, then, to divert me from it, when no more—
Ch. How sayest thou?
El. —when no more can I have the comfort of hope from a brother, the seed of the same noble sire.
Ch. For all men it is appointed to die.860
El. What, to die as that ill-starred one died, amid the tramp of racing steeds, entangled in the reins that dragged him?
Ch. Cruel was his doom, beyond thought!
El. Yea, surely; when in foreign soil, without ministry of my hands—
Ch. Alas!
El. —he is buried, ungraced by me with sepulture or with tears.870
Enter Chrysothemis.
Chr. Joy wings my feet, dear sister, not careful of seemliness, if I come with speed; for I bring joyful news, to relieve thy long sufferings and sorrows.
El. And whence couldst thou find help for my woes, whereof no cure can be imagined?
