I bewail and mourn your son. Muse Curses on the son of Oeneus! Curses on Laertes ’ child! who has bereft me of my fair son and left me childless! and on that woman, too, that left her home in Hellas , and sailed here with her Phrygian lover, bringing death to you, my dearest, for the sake of Troy , and emptying countless cities of their brave heroes. Muse Many indeed are the wounds, Thamyris, son of Philammon, that you have inflicted on my heart, in your life and in your death. Yes, for it was your pride, your own undoing, and your rivalry with the Muses that made me mother of this poor son of mine. For as I crossed the river’s streams