Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/288

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. Dear son, whose voice disturbs us? Do I hear

Odysseus?

. Ay, and thou behold’st him nigh,

And he shall force thee to the Trojan plain,

Howe’er Achilles’ offspring make or mar.

. This shaft shall bear thee sorrow for that boast.

. Let it not fly by Heaven!

. Dear child, let go

Mine arm!

. I will not.

. Ah! Why hast thou robbed

My bow of bringing down mine enemy?

. This were ignoble both for thee and me.

. One thing is manifest, the first o’ the host,

Lying forerunners of the Achaean band,

Are brave with words, but cowards with the steel.

. Well, now the bow is thine. Thou hast no cause

For blame or anger any more ’gainst me.

. None. Thou hast proved thy birthright, dearest boy.

Not from the loins of Sisyphus thou camest,

But from Achilles, who in life was held

Noblest of men alive, and now o’ the dead.

. It gladdens me that thou shouldst speak in praise

Both of my sire and me. But hear me tell

The boon for which I sue thee.—Mortal men

Must bear such evils as high Heaven ordains;

But those afflicted by self-chosen ills,

Like thine to-day, receive not from just men

Or kind indulgence or compassionate thought.

And thou art restive grown, and wilt not hearken,

But though one counsel thee with kind’st intent,

Wilt take him for a dark malignant foe.

Yet, calling Zeus to witness for my soul,

Once more I will speak. Know this, and mark it well:

Thou bear’st this sickness by a heavenly doom,

Through coming near to Chrysa’s sentinel,

The lurking snake, that guards the sky-roofed fold.

And from this plague thou ne’er shall find reprieve