Here, children! hang to these paternal robes,
Quick, haste, hold hard on him, since here's your true
Zeus that can save—and every whit as well!
Herakles. Oh, hail, my palace, my hearth's propula,—
How glad I see thee as I come to light!
Ha, what means this? My children I behold
Before the house in garments of the grave,
Chapleted, and, amid a crowd of men,
My very wife—my father weeping too,
Whatever the misfortune! Come, best take