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 | | CREUSA Silence is mine no more; instruct not me; For I behold the ark, wherein of old I laid thee, O my son, an infant babe; And in the caves of Cecrops, with the rocks Of Macrai roof'd, exposed thee: I will quit This altar, though I run on certain death. |
 | | CREUSA Dreadful was then my fortune, dreadful here, Whirl'd by the eddying blast from misery there To misery here, and back again to joy: Her boisterous winds are changed; may she remain In this repose: enough of ills are past: After the storm soft breathes a favouring gale. |
 | | CREUSA By her, who 'gainst the giants in her car Fought by the side of Jove, victorious Pallas, No one of mortal race is father to thee, But he who brought thee up, the royal Phoebus. |
| classics.mit.edu /Euripides/ion.pl.txt (9668 words) |
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