might she have left the dark abode and gates of Hades and have come again, for he would raise the dead to life, till that the thunderbolt's forked flame, hurled by Zeus, smote him. But now what further hope of life can I welcome to me? Our lords have ere this done all they could; on every altar streams the blood of abundant sacrifice; yet our sorrows find no cure.
Lo! from the house cometh a handmaid weeping; what shall I be told hath chanced? Grief may well be pardoned, if aught happeneth to one's master; yet I fain would learn whether our lady still is living or haply is no more.
Maid. Alive, yet dead thou may'st call her.
Cho. Why, how can the same person be alive, yet dead?
Maid. She is sinking even now, and at her last gasp.
Cho. My poor master! how sad thy lot to lose so good a wife!
Maid. He did not know his loss, until the blow fell on him.
Cho. Is there then no more a hope of saving her?
Maid. None; the fated day comes on so fast.
Cho. Are then the fitting rites already taking place o'er her body?
Maid. Death's garniture is ready, wherewith her lord will bury her.
Cho. Well let her know, though die she must, her fame ranks far above any other wife's beneath the sun.
Maid. Far above! of course it does; who will gainsay it? What must the woman be who hath surpassed her? For how could any wife have shown a clearer regard for her lord than by offering in his stead to die? Thus much the whole city knows right well; but thou shalt hear with wonder what she did within the house. For when she knew the fatal day was come, she washed her fair white skin with water from the stream, then from her cedar chests drew forth vesture and ornaments and robed herself becomingly; next,
