Page:Sophocles (Storr 1912) v1.djvu/201



Her plight and mine?

Ay, and my own no less.

What brought thee, daughter?

Father, care for thee.

A daughter’s yearning?

Yes, and I had news

I would myself deliver, so I came

With the one thrall who yet is true to me.

Thy valiant brothers, where are they at need?

They are—enough, ’tis now their darkest hour.

Out on the twain! Their thoughts and actions all

Are framed and modelled on Egyptian ways.

For there the men sit at the loom indoors

While the wives slave abroad for daily bread.

So you, my children—those whom it behoved

To bear the burden, stay at home like girls,

While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge,

Lightening their father’s misery. The one

Since first she grew from girlish feebleness

To womanhood has been the old man’s guide

And shared my weary wanderings, roaming oft

Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways, 179