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Chorus
You too, honored lady, once bore a son, [55] and thus made your bed dear to your husband; then share, share with me your feelings, in such measure as my sad heart grieves for my own dead sons; [60] and persuade your son, O, we implore you, to go unto the river Ismenus, and place within my arms the bodies of the dead, slain in their prime and wandering without a tomb.

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