Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/142
Yet in some sort it fits me, for I love 480
These brethren more than all: yea, mine own fate
Fain would I learn,—lest to the former ills
Some new pang added may torment thy soul.
Iolaus.
Daughter, long since have I had righteous cause
To praise thee chiefliest of Herakles' seed. 485
Our house, that seemed but now to prosper well,
Once more hath fallen into desperate case.
For oracle-chanters, saith this king, proclaim
That he must bid to slay nor bull nor calf,
But a maid, daughter of a high-born sire, 490
If we, if Athens, must not cease to be.
This then is our despair: the king refuseth
To slay his own or any other's child,
And saith to me,—albeit not in words,—
Except we find for this some remedy, 495
We must needs forth and seek another land;
But his own land he cannot choose but save.
Makaria.
On these terms hangeth our deliverance?
Iolaus.
On these,—if in all else our fortune speed.
Makaria.
Then dread no more the Argive foemen's spear. 500
Myself—I wait no bidding, ancient—am
Ready to die, and yield me to be slain.
What can we say, if Athens count it meet
To brave a mighty peril for our sake,