E'en for the gift of empire did he give
A murderous ship designed to work my death.
I would have wept my comrades' plight, and more,
My son's most cruel deed: no time for tears
Was given, but even higher did he heap605
His sum of crime. Though I escaped the sea,
I felt the keen sword's thrust, and, with my blood
The very gods defiling, poured my soul
In anguish forth. But even yet his hate
Was not appeased. Against my very name