Book 10
Resolved to hang herself, she sat upright;
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then, as she tied her girdle to a beam,
she said, “Farewell, beloved Cinyras,
and may you know the cause of my sad death.”
And while she spoke those words, her fingers fixed
the noosed rope close around her death-pale neck.
They say the murmur of despairing words
was heard by her attentive nurse who watched
outside the room. And, faithful as of old,
she opened the shut door. But, when she saw
the frightful preparations made for death,
the odd nurse screamed and beat and tore her breast,
then seized and snatched the rope from Myrrha's neck;
and after she had torn the noose apart,
at last she had the time to weep and time,
while she embraced the girl, to ask her why
the halter had been fastened round her neck.
The girl in stubborn silence only fixed
her eyes upon the ground—sad that her first
attempt at death, because too slow, was foiled.
The old nurse-woman urged and urged, and showed
her gray hair and her withered breasts, and begged
her by the memory of her cradle days,
and baby nourishment, to hide no more
from her long-trusted nurse what caused her grief.
The girl turned from her questions with a sigh.
The nurse, still more determined to know all,
promised fidelity and her best aid—
“Tell me,” she said, “and let me give you help;
my old age offers means for your relief:
if it be frantic passion, I have charms
and healing herbs; or, if an evil spell
was worked on you by someone, you shall be
cured to your perfect self by magic rites;
or, if your actions have enraged the Gods,
a sacrifice will satisfy their wrath.
What else could be the cause? Your family
and you are prosperous—your mother dear,
and your loved father are alive and well.”
And, when she heard her say the name of father,
