THIRD SONG.

Of these two the troubled language — in the chamber as she heard,

Lost herself in grief the daughter — thus took up the doleful word.

Why to sorrow thus abandoned?— weep not thus, as all forlorn,

Hear ye now my speech, my parents — and your sorrows may be borne.

Me with right ye may abandon — none that right in doubt will call,

Yield up her that best is yielded — I alone may save you all.

Wherefore wishes man for children?— they in need mine help will be:

Lo, the time is come, my parents — in your need find help in me.

Ever here the son by offering — or hereafter doth atone,

Either way is he th’ atoner — hence the wise have named him son.

Daughters too, the great forefathers — of a noble race desire,

And I now shall prove their wisdom — saving thus from death my sire.

Lo, my brother but an infant!— to the other world goest thou,

In a little time we perish — who may dare to question how?

But if first depart to heaven — he that after me was born,

Cease our race's sacred offerings — our offended sires would mourn.

Without father, without mother — of my brother too bereft,

I shall die, unused to sorrow — yet to deepest sorrow left.

But thyself, my sire! my mother — and my gentle brother save,

And their meet, unfailing offerings — shall our fathers’ spirits have.

A second self the son, a friend the wife — the daughter's but a grief,

From thy grief thy daughter offering — thou of right wilt find relief.

Desolate and unprotected — ever wandering here and there,

Shall I quickly be, my father!— reft of thy paternal care!

But wert thou through me, my father — and thy race from peril freed,

Noble fruit should I have borne thee — having done this single deed.

But if thou from hence departing-leav'st me, noblest, to my fate,

Down I sink to bitterest misery — save, Oh save me from that state!

For mine own sake, and for virtue's — for our noble race's sake,

Yield up her who best is yielded — me thine own life's ransom make.

Instantly this step, the only — the inevitable take.

Hath the world a fate more wretched — than when thou to heaven art fled,

Like a dog to wander begging — and subsist on others’ bread.

But my father, thus preserving — thus preserving all that's thine,

I shall then become immortal — and partake of bliss divine,

And the gods, and our forefathers — all will hail the prudent choice,

Still will have the water offerings — that their holy spirits rejoice.

As they heard her lamentation — in their troubled anguish deep,

Wept the father, wept the mother —‘ gan the daughter too to weep.

Then the little son beheld them — and their doleful moan he heard;

And with both his eyes wide open — lisped he thus his broken word.

“Weep not father, weep not mother — Oh my sister, weep not so!”

First to one, and then to th’ other — smiling went he to and fro.

Then a blade of spear-grass lifting — thus in bolder glee he said,

“With this spear-grass will I kill him — this man-eating giant dead.”

Though o'erpowered by bitterest sorrow — as they heard their prattling boy,

Stole into the parents’ bosoms — mute and inexpressive joy.