for she is worn and wasted with illness, and lies[1] exhausted, a sad burden in his arms. Still, though her breath comes short and scant, she yearns to gaze yet on the sunshine, for nevermore, but now the last and latest time her eye shall see his radiant orb.[2] But I will go, thy presence to announce, for 'tis not all who have the goodwill to stand by their masters with kindly hearts in adversity. But thou of old hast been my master's friend.
Cho. O Zeus, what way out of these sorrows can be found? how can we loose the bonds of fate that bind our lord?
Comes some one forth? Am I at once to cut my hair, and cast the sable robe about me?
Too plainly, ay too plainly, friends; still let us to heaven pray; for the gods' power is very great.
O king Pæan, devise for Admetus some means of escape from his sorrows.
Yes, yes, contrive it; for thou in days gone by didst find salvation for him, so now be thou a saviour from the toils of death and stay bloodthirsty Hades.
Woe! woe! alas! Thou son of Pheres, woe ! Ah, thy fate in losing thy wife!
Is not this enough to make thee slay thyself, ah! more than cause enough to tie the noose aloft and fit it to the neck?
Yea, for to-day wilt thou witness the death of her that was not merely dear, but dearest of the dear.
Look, look! she cometh even now, her husband with her, from the house.
Cry aloud and wail, O land of Pheræ, wail for the best of women, as with sickness worn she passes 'neath the earth to Hades, lord below.
