Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/83

201–226] Forth from thy tent, and let thine eye confound

The brood of Sisyphus that would thee wound!

Too long hast thou been fixed in grim repose.

Heightening the haughty malice of thy foes,

That, while thou porest by the sullen sea,

Through breezy glades advanceth fearlessly,

A mounting blaze with crackling laughter fed

From myriad throats; whence pain and sorrow bred

Within my bosom are establishèd.

. Helpers of Aias’ vessel's speed,

Erechtheus’ earth-derivèd seed,

Sorrows are ours who truly care

For the house of Telamon afar.

The dread, the grand, the rugged form

Of him we know,

Is stricken with a troublous storm;

Our Aias’ glory droopeth low.

. What burden through the darkness fell

Where still at eventide ’twas well?

Phrygian Teleutas’ daughter, say;

Since Aias, foremost in the fray,

Disdaining not the spear-won bride,

Still holds thee nearest at his side,

And thou may’st solve our doubts aright.

. How shall I speak the dreadful word?

How shall ye live when ye have heard?

Madness hath seized our lord by night

And blasted him with hopeless blight.

Such horrid victims mightst thou see

Huddled beneath yon canopy,

Torn by red hands and dyed in blood,

Dread offerings to his direful mood.

. What news of our fierce lord thy story showeth,

Sharp to endure, impossible to fly!

News that on tongues of Danaäns hourly groweth,

Which Rumour’s myriad voices multiply!