O for the power of Orpheus's lyre, that might rescue thee even from the realms of the dead!
But there await me till I die; prepare {374}
A mansion for me, as again with me
To dwell; for in thy tomb I will be laid,
In the same cedar, by thy side composed:
For e'en in death I will not be disjoin'd
From thee who hast alone been faithful to me!
As the Chorus join in Admetus's sorrow the pledge is reiterated, and the dying mother is satisfied.
Alc. Thus pledging, from my hands receive thy children. {386}
Adm. A much-loved gift, and from a much-loved hand!
The strength Alcestis had summoned for her last effort now forsakes her: she sinks rapidly.
Alc. A heavy weight hangs on my darkened eye. {396} Adm. If thou forsake me I am lost indeed! Alc. As one that is no more I now am nothing. Adm. Ah, raise thy face! forsake not thus thy children! Alc. It must be so perforce: farewell, my children. Adm. Look on them, but a look. Alc. I am no more. Adm. How dost thou? Wilt thou leave us so? Alc. Farewell. Adm. And what a wretch, what a lost wretch am I! Cho. She's gone! Thy wife, Admetus, is no more!
The little Son flings himself passionately on the corpse [the metre breaking out into strophic alternations.]
Strophe
Son. O my unhappy fate! {405}
My mother sinks to the dark realms of night,
Nor longer views this golden light;
But to the ills of life exposed
Leaves my poor orphan state!
Her eyes, my father, see, her eyes are closed,
And her hand nerveless falls.
Yet hear me, O my mother, hear my cries!
It is thy son who calls,
Who prostrate on the earth breathes on thy lips his sighs.
Adm. On one that hears not, sees not! I and you
Must bend beneath affliction's heaviest load.