And shall I never see you both again,
Except in enmity? Do thou come first
Into thy mother's arms, who hast endured
So many toils, so many miseries,465
And, worn with weary exile, see'st at last
Thy mother's face. Come nearer to me here.
Now sheathe thine impious sword; and this thy spear,
Which even now is quivering with hate
And eager to be thrown, thrust in the ground.
Put by thy shield as well; it keeps me off470