In these Kadmeian co-mates of my age,
They would,—and I,—when warfare was to wage,
Stand by these children; but I am bereft
Of youth now, lone of that good genius left!
But hist, desist! for here come these,—
Draped as the dead go, under and over,—
Children long since—now hard to discover—
Of the once so potent Herakles!
And the loved wife dragging, in one tether
About her feet, the boys together;