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Translated by E. Coleridge.
63 pages - You are on Page 50 Amphitryon: Fortune has spread her wings, and we are ruined, ruined. Theseus: What meanest thou? what hath he done? Amphitryon: Slain them in a wild fit of frenzy with arrows dipped in the venom of the hundred-headed hydra. Theseus: This is Hera's work; but who lies there among the dead, old man? Amphitryon: My son, my own enduring son, that marched with gods to Phlegra's plain, there to battle with giants and slay them, warrior that he was. Theseus: Ah, woe for him! whose fortune was e'er so curst as his? Amphitryon: Never wilt thou find another that hath borne a larger share of suffering or been more fatally deceived. Previous Page / First / Next Page of Heracles
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