tantane me tenuit vivendi, nate, voluptas, ut pro me hostili paterer succedere dextrae, quem genui? tuane haec genitor per vulnera servor morte tua vivens? heu, nunc misero mihi demum exilium infelix, nunc alte vulnus adactum! idem ego, nate, tuum maculavi crimine nomen, pulsus ob invidiam solio sceptrisque paternis.
My son, did such joy of life possess me that in my stead I let you meet the foemans sword'you whom I begot? Am I, your father, saved by these wounds of yours, alive through your death? Alas! now at last I know, wretch that I am, the bitterness of exile; now my wound is driven deep! I myself, my son, have stained your name with guilt'I, driven in loathing from the throne and sceptre of my fathers.