The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 56

NEO. The Atridae are my foes; the man you see Is my fast friend, because he hates them sore.

Then, if you come in kindness, you must hide Nothing from him or me of all thou hast heard.

MER. Look what thou doest, my son!

NEO. I mark it well.

MER. Thou shalt be answerable.

NEO. Content: but speak.

MER. Then hear me. These two men whom I have named, Diomedes and Odysseus, are set forth Engaged on oath to bring this man by force If reasons fail. The Achaeans every one Have heard this plainly from Odysseus' mouth.

He was the louder and more confident.

NEO. Say, for what cause, after so long a time, Can Atreus' sons have turned their thoughts on him, Whom long they had cast forth? What pa.s.sing touch Of conscience moved them, or what stroke from Heaven, Whose wrath requites all wicked deeds of men?

MER. Methinks thou hast not heard what I will now Unfold to thee. There was a princely seer, A son of Priam, Helenus by name, Whom he for whom no word is bad enough, Crafty Odysseus, sallying forth alone One night, had taken, and in bonds displayed 'Fore all the Achaeans, a right n.o.ble prey.

He, 'mid his other prophecies, foretold No Grecian force should sack Troy's citadel, Till with fair reasons they had brought this man From Lemnos isle, his lonely dwelling-place.

When thus the prophet spake, Laertes' son Straight undertook to fetch this man, and show him To all the camp:--he hoped, with fair consent: But else, perforce.--And, if he failed in this, Whoever would might smite him on the head.

My tale is told, dear youth. I counsel speed To thee and to the friend for whom thou carest.

PHI. Ah me, unhappy! has that rascal knave Sworn to fetch me with reasons to their camp?

As likely might his reasons bring me back, Like his begetter, from the house of death.

MER. You talk of what I know not. I will go s.h.i.+pward. May G.o.d be with you for all good. [_Exit_

PHI. Is not this terrible, Laertes' son Should ever think to bring me with soft words And show me from his deck to all their host?

No! Sooner will I listen to the tongue Of the curs'd basilisk that thus hath maim'd me.

Ay, but he'll venture anything in word Or deed. And now I know he will be here.

Come, O my son, let us be gone, while seas And winds divide us from Odysseus' s.h.i.+p.

Let us depart. Sure timely haste brings rest And quiet slumber when the toil is done.

NEO. Shall we not sail when this south-western wind Hath fallen, that now is adverse to our course?

PHI. All winds are fair to him who flies from woe.

NEO. Nay, but this head-wind hinders them no less.

PHI. No head-wind hinders pirates on their way, When violence and rapine lead them on.

NEO. Well, then, let us be going, if you will; When you have taken from within the cave What most you need and value.

PHI. Though my all Be little, there is that I may not lose.

NEO. What can there be that we have not on board?

PHI. A leaf I have found, wherewith I still the rage Of my sore plague, and lull it quite to rest.

NEO. Well, bring it forth.--What? Is there something more?

PHI. If any of these arrows here are fallen, I would not leave them for a casual prey.

NEO. How? Do I see thee with the marvellous bow?

PHI. Here in my hand. The world hath only one.

NEO. And may one touch and handle it, and gaze With reverence, as on a thing from Heaven?

PHI. Thou mayest, my son. This and whate'er of mine May stead thee, 'tis thy privilege to enjoy.

NEO. In very truth I long for it, but so, That longing waits on leave. Am I permitted?

PHI. Thou art, my son,--and well thou speakest,--thou art.

Thou, that hast given me light and life, the joy Of seeing Mount Oeta and my father's home, With all I love there, and his aged head,-- Thou that hast raised me far above my foes Who triumphed! Thou may'st take it in thine hand, And,--when thou hast given it back to me,--may'st vaunt Alone of mortals for thine excellence To have held this in thy touch. I, too, at first, Received it as a boon for kindness done.

NEO. Well, go within.

PHI. Nay, I must take thee too.

My sickness craves thee for its comforter.

[PHILOCTETES _and_ NEOPTOLEMUS _go into the cave_

CHORUS.

In fable I have heard, I 1 Though sight hath ne'er confirmed the word, How he who attempted once the couch supreme, To a whirling wheel by Zeus the all-ruler bound, Tied head and heel, careering ever round, Atones his impious unsubstantial dream.

Of no man else, through eye or ear, Have I discerned a fate more full of fear Than yonder sufferer's of the cureless wound: Who did no violence, defrauded none:-- A just man, had he dwelt among the just Unworthily behold him thrust Alone to hear the billows roar That break around a rugged sh.o.r.e!

How could he live, whose life was thus consumed with moan?

Where neighbour there was none: I 2 No arm to stay him wandering lone, Unevenly, with stumbling steps and sore; No friend in need, no kind inhabitant, To minister to his importunate want, No heart whereto his pangs he might deplore.

None who, whene'er the gory flow Was rus.h.i.+ng hot, might healing herbs bestow, Or cull from teeming Earth some genial plant To allay the anguish of malignant pain And soothe the sharpness of his poignant woe.

Like infant whom the nurse lets go, With tottering movement here and there, He crawled for comfort, whensoe'er His soul-devouring plague relaxed its cruel strain.

Not fed with foison of all-teeming Earth II 1 Whence we sustain us, ever-toiling men, But only now and then With winged things, by his wing'd shafts brought low, He stayed his hunger from his bow.

Poor soul, that never through ten years of dearth Had pleasure from the fruitage of the vine, But seeking to some standing pool, Nor clear nor cool, Foul water heaved to head for lack of heartening wine.

But now, consorted with the hero's child, II 2 He winneth greatness and a joyful change; Over the water wild Borne by a friendly bark beneath the range Of Oeta, where Spercheius fills Wide channels winding among lovely hills Haunted of Melian nymphs, till he espies The roof-tree of his father's hall, And high o'er all s.h.i.+nes the bronze s.h.i.+eld of him, whose home is in the skies[6].

[NEOPTOLEMUS _comes out of the cave, followed by_ PHILOCTETES _in pain_

NEO. Prithee, come on! Why dost thou stand aghast, Voiceless, and thus astonied in thine air?

PHI. Oh! oh!

NEO. What?

PHI. Nothing. Come my son, fear nought.

NEO. Is pain upon thee? Hath thy trouble come?

PHI. No pain, no pain! 'Tis past; I am easy now.

Ye heavenly powers!