_Alc._ Woe is me! I hear the bitter and reproachful cries Of my despairing lord. With life’s last powers, Oh! let me strive to soothe him still. Approach, My handmaids, raise me, and support my steps To the distracted mourner. Bear me hence, That he may hear and see me. _Adm._ Is it thou? And do I see thee still? and com’st thou thus To comfort me, Alcestis? Must I hear The dying accents _thus_? Alas! return To thy sad couch--return! ’tis meet for me There by thy side for ever to remain. _Alc._ For me thy care is vain. Though meet for thee-- _Adm._ O voice! O looks of death! are these, are _these_, Thus darkly shrouded with mortality, The eyes that were the sunbeams and the life Of my fond soul? Alas! how faint a ray Falls from their faded orbs, so brilliant once, Upon my drooping brow! How heavily, With what a weight of death thy languid voice Sinks on my heart! too faithful far, too fond. Alcestis! thou art dying--and for me! * * * * * Alcestis! and thy feeble hand supports With its last power, supports my sinking head, E’en now, while death is on thee! Oh! the touch Rekindles tenfold frenzy in my heart. I rush, I fly impetuous to the shrine, The image of yon ruthless Deity, Impatient for her prey. Before thy death, There, there, I too, self-sacrificed, will fall. * * * * * Vain is each obstacle--in vain the gods Themselves would check my fury. I am lord Of my own days--and thus I swear---- _Alc._ Yes! swear, Admetus! for thy children to sustain The load of life. All other impious vows, Which thou, a rebel to the sovereign will Of those who rule on high, mightst dare to form Within thy breast, thy lip, by them enchain’d, Would vainly seek to utter. Seest thou not, It is from them the inspiration flows Which in my language breathes? They lend me power, They bid me through thy strengthen’d soul transfuse High courage, noble constancy. Submit, Bow down to them thy spirit. Be thou calm; Be near me. Aid me. In the dread extreme To which I now approach, from whom but thee Should comfort be derived? Afflict me not, In such an hour, with anguish worse than death. O faithful and beloved, support me still! The choruses with which this tragedy is interspersed are distinguished for their melody and classic beauty. The following translation will give our readers a faint idea of the one by which the third act is concluded. _Alc._ My children! all is finish’d. Now, farewell! To thy fond care, O Pheres! I commit My widow’d lord: forsake him not. _Eum._ Alas! Sweet mother! wilt thou leave us? From thy side Are we for ever parted?