Page:Sophocles (Storr 1912) v1.djvu/287

 Enter.

Ah me, my sisters, shall I first lament

My own afflictions, or my aged sire’s,

Whom here I find a castaway, with you,

In a strange land, an ancient beggar clad

In antic tatters, marring all his frame,

While o’er the sightless orbs his unkempt locks

Float in the breeze; and, as it were to match,

He bears a wallet against hunger’s pinch.

All this too late I learn, wretch that I am,

Alas! I own it, and am proved most vile

In my neglect of thee: I scorn myself.

But as almighty Zeus in all he doth

Hath Mercy for co-partner of his throne,

Let Mercy, father, also sit enthroned

In thy heart likewise. For transgressions past

May be amended, cannot be made worse.

Why silent? Father, speak, nor turn away,

Hast thou no word, wilt thou dismiss me then

In mute disdain, nor tell me why thou art wrath?

O ye his daughters, sisters mine, do ye

This sullen, obstinate silence try to move.

Let him not spurn, without a single word

Of answer, me the suppliant of the god.

Tell him thyself, unhappy one, thine errand;

For large discourse may send a thrill of joy, 265