Gods should not resemble mortals in their anger.
My father Zeus approved this long ago.
Alas! A miserable exile has been decreed for us, old man.
Why then do you delay what must necessarily be?
Child, what a terrible disaster we have all come to—unhappy you, your sisters, and unhappy me. I shall reach a foreign land as an aged immigrant. Still it is foretold that I shall bring into Hellas a motley barbarian army. Leading their spears, I, having the fierce nature of a serpent, will bring my wife Harmonia, daughter of Ares, to the altars and tombs of Hellas. I will neither rest from my troubles in my misery, nor will I sail over the downward flowing Acheron and be at peace.
O father, I will go into exile deprived of you.
Why do you embrace me with your hands, child, like a swan for its exhausted gray-haired parent?
For where can I turn, banished from my father-land?
I do not know, child; your father is a poor all