mother, followed your corpse to the tomb, or closed your
eyes, or bathed your wounds, shrouding you with the
robe which I worked so hard to finish day and night, and
made the loom the medicine of an old wife’s sorrow!
Where shall I seek you? what land now contains those 10
severed limbs, that mutilated corpse? is this the sole relic
of yourself that you bring back to me, my son? is this
what I followed over land and sea? Pierce me, if you have
aught of human feeling—shower on me all your darts, ye
Rutulians, let the sword make me its first meal; or do 15