SEMI-CHORUS 1
Neither has he been found along the path
That leads from the eastern glances of the sun.
CHORUS
From whom, oh from whom? what hard son of the waves,
Plying his weary task without thought of sleep,
Or what Olympian nymph of hill or stream that flows
Down to the Bosporus' shore,
Might I have tidings of my lord
Wandering somewhere seen
Fierce of mood? Grievous it is
When I have toiled so long, and ranged far and wide
Thus to fail, thus to have sought in vain.
Still the afflicted hero nowhere may I find.
TECMESSA
Alas, woe, woe!
CHORUS
Whose cry was it that broke from yonder copse?
[Enter Tecmessa.]
TECMESSA
Alas, woe is me!
CHORUS
It is the hapless spear-won bride I see,
Tecmessa, steeped in that wail's agony.
TECMESSA
I am lost, destroyed, made desolate, my friends.
CHORUS
What is it? Speak.
TECMESSA
Aias, our master, newly slaughtered lies
Yonder, a hidden sword sheathed in his body.
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