That formerly she used, poor lady, wept
O’er all; and then went ranging through the rooms,
Where, if there caught her eye the well-loved form
Of any of her household, she would gaze
And weep aloud, accusing her own fate
And her abandoned lot, childless henceforth! 
When this was ended, suddenly I see her
Fly to the hero’s room of genial rest. 
With unsuspected gaze o’ershadowed near,
I watched, and saw her casting on the bed
The finest sheets of all.  When that was done,
She leapt upon the couch where they had lain
And sat there in the midst.  And the hot flood
Burst from her eyes before she spake:—­’Farewell,
My bridal bed, for never more shalt thou
Give me the comfort I have known thee give.’ 
Then with tight fingers she undid her robe,
Where the brooch lay before the breast, and bared
All her left arm and side.  I, with what speed
Strength ministered, ran forth to tell her son
The act she was preparing.  But meanwhile,
Ere we could come again, the fatal blow
Fell, and we saw the wound.  And he, her boy,
Seeing, wept aloud.  For now the hapless youth
Knew that himself had done this in his wrath,
Told all too late i’ the house, how she had wrought
Most innocently, from the Centaur’s wit. 
So now the unhappy one, with passionate words
And cries and wild embracings of the dead,
Groaned forth that he had slain her with false breath
Of evil accusation, and was left
Orphaned of both, his mother and his sire. 
  Such is the state within.  What fool is he
That counts one day, or two, or more to come? 
To-morrow is not, till the present day
In fair prosperity have passed away. [Exit

CHORUS. 
      Which shall come first in my wail, I 1
      Which shall be last to prevail,
    Is a doubt that will never be done.

      Trouble at home may be seen, I 2
      Trouble is looked for with teen;
    And to have and to look for are one.

      Would some fair wind II 1
    But waft me forth to roam
  Far from the native region of my home,
  Ere death me find, oppressed with wild affright
  Even at the sudden sight
  Of him, the valiant son of Zeus most High! 
  Before the house, they tell, he fareth nigh,
  A wonder beyond thought,
  With torment unapproachable distraught.

Hark! ...  II 2
The cause then of my cry
Was coming all too nigh: 
(Doth the clear nightingale lament for nought?)
Some step of stranger folk is this way brought. 
As for a friend they love
Heavy and slow with noiseless feet they move. 
Which way? which way?  Ah me! behold him come. 
His pallid lips are dumb. 
Dead, or at rest in sleep?  What shall I say?

                                      [HERACLES is brought in on a litter, accompanied

                                         by HYLLUS and an Old Man