But a long way lieth between, unaccomplished yet is the toil.’
So spake they on this side and that through the city: the women the while,
Heavenward uplifting their hands, to the Gods that abide for aye
Made vehement prayer for the heart’s delight of the homecoming day.
And one to another made answer, and moaned, as her tears fell fast: {250}
‘Hapless Alkimedê, thee too evil hath found at the last;
Nor to thee was vouchsafed amid bliss to the end of thy days to attain!
Woe’s me for Aison the ill-starred!—verily this had been gain
For him, if rolled in his shroud before this woeful day,
Deep under Earth, with the cup of affliction untasted, he lay: