Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/171

209–243]

Oh, to the workers of such deeds as these

May great Olympus’ Lord

Return of evil still afford,

Nor let them wear the gloss of sovran ease!

. Take thought to keep thy crying within bound.

Doth not thy sense enlighten thee to see

How recklessly

Even now thou winnest undeservèd woe?

Still art thou found

To make thy misery overflow

Through self-bred gloomy strife. But not for long

Shall one alone prevail who strives against the strong.

. ’Twas dire oppression taught me my complaint

I know my rage a quenchless fire:

But nought, however dire,

Shall visit this my frenzy with restraint,

Or check my lamentation while I live.

Dear friends, kind women of true Argive breed,

Say, who can timely counsel give

Or word of comfort suited to my need?

Beyond all cure shall this my cause be known.

No counsels more! Ah leave,

Vain comforters, and let me grieve

With ceaseless pain, unmeasured in my moan.

. With kind intent

Full tenderly my words are meant;

Like a true mother pressing heart to heart,

I pray thee, do not aggravate thy smart.

. But have my miseries a measure? Tell.

Can it be well

To pour forgetfulness upon the dead?

Hath mortal head

Conceived a wickedness so bold?

O never may such brightness shine for me,

Nor let me peaceful be

With aught of good my life may still enfold,

If from wide echoing of my father’s name

The wings of keen lament I must withhold.