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O mother, mother! he that begot me to this life of sorrow has gone and left me all alone.  Ah! woe is me! a bitter, bitter sight for me was Helen, evil Helen! to me now doomed to bleed and die, slaughtered by an impious father! I wish this Aulis had never received  in its havens here the stems of their bronze-beaked ships, the fleet which was speeding them to Troy; and would that Zeus had never breathed on the Euripus a wind to stop the expedition, tempering, as he does,  a different breeze to different men, so that some have joy in setting sail, and sorrow some, and others hard constraint, to make some start and others prepare and others delay!  Full of trouble then, it seems, is the race of mortals, full of trouble indeed; and it is Fate's decree that man should find distress. Woe! woe to you, you child of Tyndareus,  for the suffering and anguish sore, which you are causing the Danaids!
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