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O mother, mother! he that begot me to this life of sorrow has gone and left me all alone. [1315] Ah! woe is me! a bitter, bitter sight for me was Helen, evil Helen! to me now doomed to bleed and die, slaughtered by an impious father! I wish this Aulis had never received [1320] in its havens here the stems of their bronze-beaked ships, the fleet which was speeding them to Troy; and would that Zeus had never breathed on the Euripus a wind to stop the expedition, tempering, as he does, [1325] a different breeze to different men, so that some have joy in setting sail, and sorrow some, and others hard constraint, to make some start and others prepare and others delay! [1330] Full of trouble then, it seems, is the race of mortals, full of trouble indeed; and it is Fate's decree that man should find distress. Woe! woe to you, you child of Tyndareus, [1335] for the suffering and anguish sore, which you are causing the Danaids!
Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, translated by E. P. Coleridge. Volume II. London. George Bell and Sons. 1891.
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