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 t