Children
Your sons are dead and gone. Alas, father! [1140] dead and gone. Chorus
The boundless air now wraps them round, turned to ashes by the flame; they have winged their flight to Hades. Children
Father, do you hear your children's lamentation? Shall I ever, arrayed as a warrior, avenge [1145] your slaughter—if it may be so—and beget children?