Rise, hapless one, from the sacred floor of Persephone; rise, clasp him by the knees and implore him, O recover the bodies of our dead sons, the children that I lost—ah, woe is me!—beneath the walls of Cadmus’ town. Ah me! ah me!The words ἰω μοι to γεραιᾶς are probably interpolated. Nauck and Hartung reject them here. Take me by the hand, poor aged sufferer that I am, support and guide and raise me up. By thy beard, kind friend, glory of Hellas, I do beseech thee, as I clasp thy knees and hands in my misery; O pity me as I entreat for my sons with my tale of wretched woe, likeReading ὔ τιν’ ἀλάταν with Musgrave. some beggar; nor let my sons lie there unburied in the land of Cadmus, glad prey for beasts, whilst thou art in thy prime, I implore thee. See the teardrop tremble in my eye, as thus I throw me at thy knees to win my children burial.

TheseusMother mine, why weepest thou, drawing o’er thine eyes thy veil? Is it because thou didst hear their piteous lamentations? To my own heart it goes. Raise thy silvered head, weep not where thou sittest at the holy altar of Demeter.AethraAh woe!Theseus’Tis not for thee their sorrows to lament.