Of these two the troubled language — in the chamber as she heard, Lost herself in grief the daughter — thus took up the doleful word. Why to sorrow thus abandoned?— weep not thus, as all forlorn, Hear ye now my speech, my parents — and your sorrows may be borne.
Me with right ye may abandon — none that right in doubt will call, Yield up her that best is yielded — I alone may save you all. Wherefore wishes man for children?— they in need mine help will be: Lo, the time is come, my parents — in your need find help in me.
Ever here the son by offering — or hereafter doth atone, Either way is he th’ atoner — hence the wise have named him son. Daughters too, the great forefathers — of a noble race desire, And I now shall prove their wisdom — saving thus from death my sire.
Lo, my brother but an infant!— to the other world goest thou, In a little time we perish — who may dare to question how? But if first depart to heaven — he that after me was born, Cease our race's sacred offerings — our offended sires would mourn.
Without father, without mother — of my brother too bereft, I shall die, unused to sorrow — yet to deepest sorrow left. But thyself, my sire! my mother — and my gentle brother save, And their meet, unfailing offerings — shall our fathers’ spirits have.
A second self the son, a friend the wife — the daughter's but a grief, From thy grief thy daughter offering — thou of right wilt find relief. Desolate and unprotected — ever wandering here and there, Shall I quickly be, my father!— reft of thy paternal care!
But wert thou through me, my father — and thy race from peril freed, Noble fruit should I have borne thee — having done this single deed. But if thou from hence departing-leav'st me, noblest, to my fate, Down I sink to bitterest misery — save, Oh save me from that state!
For mine own sake, and for virtue's — for our noble race's sake, Yield up her who best is yielded — me thine own life's ransom make. Instantly this step, the only — the inevitable take. Hath the world a fate more wretched — than when thou to heaven art fled,
Like a dog to wander begging — and subsist on others’ bread. But my father, thus preserving — thus preserving all that's thine, I shall then become immortal — and partake of bliss divine, And the gods, and our forefathers — all will hail the prudent choice,
Still will have the water offerings — that their holy spirits rejoice. As they heard her lamentation — in their troubled anguish deep, Wept the father, wept the mother —‘ gan the daughter too to weep. Then the little son beheld them — and their doleful moan he heard;
And with both his eyes wide open — lisped he thus his broken word. “Weep not father, weep not mother — Oh my sister, weep not so!” First to one, and then to th’ other — smiling went he to and fro. Then a blade of spear-grass lifting — thus in bolder glee he said,
“With this spear-grass will I kill him — this man-eating giant dead.” Though o'erpowered by bitterest sorrow — as they heard their prattling boy, Stole into the parents’ bosoms — mute and inexpressive joy.
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