Tightenings around the body of Herakles
To the stone columns of the house made fast!
But—like a bird that grieves
For callow nestlings some rude hand bereaves—
See, here, a bitter journey overpast,
The old man—all too late—is here at last!
Amph. Silently, silently, aged Kadmeians!
Will ye not suffer my son, diffused
Yonder, to slide from his sorrows in sleep?
Cho. And thee, old man, do I, groaning, weep,