Women of Trakhis (Τραχίνιαι, Trachiniai) is an Athenian tragedy by Sophocles. Perhaps one of his least famous ones. It's unclear when it was written and the plot is one of deceptive simplicity: Deianira anxiously awaits the return of her husband Herakles to their somewhat temporary home in Trakhis. Hyllos, her son, who has been informed that his father is sacking the city of King Eurytos in Euboea, goes off to search for him. But as a foretaste of victory, Herakles' commander, LiKhas, returns with a band of captive women, headed by the King's daughterd Iole. Deianira realizes Herakles sacked the city to capture Iole and knows Herakles' love for her is fading. She goes through great lengths to make a tunic drenched in--what she believes--is a love potion but which turns out to be a poison that will kill Herakles. When she realizes she is responsible for his death, she kills herself. With his last breath, Herakales weds Ione and his son and urges them to build him a pyre on Mt. Oeta. 

 In the play is a section I would like to quote to you today; a poem of sorts, or reminder. It summarizes the play quite well, I think, in saying that fortune and misfortune follows one another naturally and as such, one should not hasten to act on its perceived insurmountable consequences. The tides will, most likely, shift once more. Had Deianira not hastened to assume the worst and accepted a potion she did not know the true nature of, things would have turned out s lot different, after all!

I'm going to give you two translations, both with their own merit. The first is from Plutarch's 'Life of Demetrius', Loeb Classical Library edition, and the second is from The Light and The Darkness, Brill Archive edition.

"But my fate on the swiftly turning wheel of God
Goes whirling round forever and ever changes shape,
Just as the moon's appearance for two kindly nights
Could never be identical and show no change,
But out of darkness first she comes forth young and new,
With face that ever grows more beautiful and full,
And when she reaches largest and most generous phase,
Again she vanisheth away and comes to naught."

"For Kronos' son, who rules all things,
Has melted out to men no painless lot:
Joy and sorrow come round to all
Like the wheeling path of the Bear.
For so the starry night abides
Not forever, nor the Keres, nor wealth,
But all soon shifts, and then another
Must take his turn of joy or sorrow."