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Alas, alas! My mind is trembling with fear, [1285] 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— [1290] 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 [1295] will I lament as dead?

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