Hyllos. My mother, I could wish one thing of three—
Or that thou should'st no longer live; or else
Live, and be called my mother nevermore;
Or gain in some way better heart than now.
Deian. What is there, son, thus worthy of thy hate?
Hyllos. Know, of thy husband, whom I father call,
Thou art, this very day, the murderess.740
Deian. Ah me, my son! what word is this thou bring'st?
Hyllos. One which no power on earth can cancel now;
For who can make undone what once has been?
Deian. What say'st thou, Ο my son? By what man taught,
Say'st thou that I have done so base a deed?
Hyllos. I, with these eyes my father's piteous fate
Myself beholding, to no tales gave heed.
Deian. Where did'st thou meet him? Where stand by and see?
Hyllos. If thou must learn, 'tis well to tell thee all.
When he had sacked the town of Eurytos,
Renowned in story, and was on his way
With trophies and first-fruits of victory,750
There stands a high Eubœan promontory,
Keneian named, sea-washed on either side,
And there to Zeus, his father, he marks out
His altars, and the consecrated grove,
And there with eager welcome first I saw him;
And, when about to offer sacrifice
Of many victims, Lichas comes from home,
His home-reared herald, bearing in his arms
Thy gift, the fatal robe. And he, arrayed
In it, as thou did'st bid him, slaughtered there
Twelve oxen tall, the first-fruits of the spoil;760
But altogether, cattle great and small,
