Hearing the many rumours back-revenging: And for now This to come, now That bring after Woe, and still worse woe, bawling in the household! And truly, if so many wounds had chanced on My husband here, as homeward used to dribble Report, he’s pierced more than a net to speak of! While, were he dying (as the words abounded) A triple-bodied Geruon the Second, Plenty above — for loads below I count not — Of earth a three-share cloak he’d boast of taking, Once only dying in each several figure! Because of suchlike rumours back-revenging, Many the halters from my neck, above head, Others than I loosed — loosed from neck by main force! From this cause, sure, the boy stands not beside me — Possessor of our troth-plights, thine and mine too — As ought Orestes: be not thou astonished! For, him brings up our well-disposed guest-captive Strophios the Phokian — ills that told on both sides To me predicting — both of thee ’neath Ilion 
 The danger, and if anarchy’s mob-uproar Should overthrow thy council; since ’t is born with Mortals, — whoe’er has fallen, the more to kick him. Such an excuse, I think, no cunning carries!
 As for myself — why, of my wails the rushing Fountains are dried up: not in them a drop more! And in my late-to-bed eyes I have damage, Bewailing what concerned thee, those torch-holdings For ever unattended to. In dreams — why, Beneath the light wing-beats o’ the gnat, I woke up