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Enter Hyllus and an Old Man, followed by Heracles, borne upon a litter.
Ah ah, I mourn,
father, I mourn for your misery!
How can I hope to assist you? Ah ah!
Be silent, my son, and do not arouse
the savage pain of your frenzied father.
He lives though fallen; so bite your lip
Old man, is he living still?
You must not waken him out of his slumber
by stirring up and reviving
980the terrible, pulsing
disease, O my child.
But a burdensome weight
lies on me: my mind is in turmoil.
What land have I come to? What men are these
who stand around me while ceaseless pains
torment me? Ah ah! Oh, wretch that I am!
The putrid disease devours me. Oh!
Did I not tell you it would be better
by far to remain in silence, and not
990to scatter abroad
the sleep from his brain and eyes?
be still when I see him suffer.
O Cenaean rock where I built my altars,
how harshly you favor the sacrifice
I made in my wretchedness - O Zeus!
How great is the outrage you lay upon me!
I would that my eyes had never beheld you -
ah, woe is me! - for now I must glimpse
the inexorable flower of madness.
1000Oh where is the sorcerer, where is the healer -
save only Zeus - who has power enough
to soothe the destruction upon me?
If any should come, I would marvel