ANTISTROPHE IX.
Chorus.
O Earth, O Earth, would thou hadst yawned,
And in thy black pit whelmed me wholly,
Ere I had seen my dear-loved lord
In the silver bath thus bedded lowly!
Who will bury him? and for him
With salt tears, what eyes shall brim?
Wilt thou do it? thou, the wife
That killed thy husband with the knife?
Wilt thou dare, with blushless face,