Stasimon 4
[Choral 1]
No more a happy mother I, with children blest; no more I share, among Argive women, who have sons, their happy lot; nor any more will Artemis in the hour of travail kindly greet these childless mothers.
955
Chorus
Most dreary is my life, and like some wandering cloud I drift before the howling blast.
960
The seven noblest sons in Argos once we had,
we seven hapless mothers; but now my sons are dead, I have no child, and on me steals old age in piteous wise, nor ’mongst the dead nor ’mongst the living do I countDindorf, followed by Nauck, reads κρινομένα. myself,
965
having as it were a lot apart from these.
970
[Choral]
Tears alone are left me; in my house sad memories of my son are stored; mournful tresses shorn from his head, chaplets that he wore, libations for the dead departed,
Chorus
and songs, but not such as golden-haired Apollo welcometh; and when I wake to weep, my tears will ever drench the folds of my robe upon my bosom.
975
