The Argonautica

gently, scarcely, above her stooped back, and spoke thus:

Gifts, whatever Hypsipyle herself finds pleasing,

Gifts we should send to the strangers, since generous giving is better.

But what plan can secure a means of living for you

if a Thracian host bears down, or any other

foe; for such enemies often arise among mortals?

This unknown host has now arrived here unforeseen.

And if some blessed god should turn that danger aside,

countless disasters worse than warfare still wait behind,

when all the aged women dwindle and die away,

and you younger, childless women reach hateful old age.

How then will you live, ill-fated? Will the oxen

yoke themselves for you across the deep-plowed fields,

and drag the clod-cutting plow through fields lying fallow,

then reap the grain as the year comes round again?

For surely I, though the Fates still shrink from me now,

expect that as this coming year draws onward

earth will cover me, once death-gifts yield my rightful share,

as custom bids, before this misery draws near.

To younger women I urge this counsel without reserve:

now sure deliverance lies ready at your feet,

if you entrust both homes and all your rich possessions

to strangers' care, and give them charge of your splendid city.

So she spoke; through all the assembly rose a swelling murmur;