Stasimon 4
[Choral 1]
Alas, alas! My mind is trembling with fear,
Chorus
trembling; and through my flesh goes a throb of pity, of pity for the hapless mother. Which of her two sons will stain the other with blood—
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ah, for the suffering! O Zeus, O earth, alas!—a brother’s throat, a brother’s life, through his shield, through his blood? Ah me! ah me! which of them
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will I lament as dead?
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Ah, the earth! Ah, the earth! Twin savage beasts, two murderous souls with brandished spears will soon be draining the fallen, fallen enemy’s blood. Unhappy,
that they ever thought of single combat! In foreign voice I will chant a dirge of tears and wailing, in mourning for the dead. Close to murder stands their fortune;
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the coming day will decide it. Fatal this slaughter, fatal, because of the Furies.
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