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830
For if the guileful doom wrought by the Centaur
goads his sides and a cloud of blood surrounds him,
and poison clings to him, poison
whose father was Death and whose nurse was a gleaming serpent,
then how shall he ever behold another sunrise?
Gripped in the monstrous hydra's dreadful grasp,
he feels the vengeful torments, the stinging pangs,
840the seething, treacherous lash of black-haired Nessus.
The Women of Trachis and Philoctetes. A new translation in verse by Robert Torrance. Houghton Mifflin. 1966.
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