Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/88

54 . Why vex thy heart with what is over and done?

Do what we may, this ne’er will alter now.

Child of Laërtes old,

Thou that dost still behold

And still contrive all shapes of monstrous ill,

Winding in foulest ways

Through the army’s sinful maze,—

Now even for pleasure thou may’st laugh thy fill.

. Laughter and tears are in the gift of God.

. Ay, might I see him, though thus broken,—ay me!

Even yet—

. Nay, vaunt not. Look where thou art fallen.

Source where my life-blood springs,

O Zeus, might I but slay

That crafty plague, with those twin-sceptred kings,

Then breathe my life away!

. Pray thus, and pray that I too be no more!

If thou wert gone, what were my life to me?

Darkness! my only light!

O nether gloom, to me

Brighter than morning to the wakeful eye!

Take me to dwell with thee.

Take me! What help? Zeus’ daughter with fell might

Torments me sore. I may not look on high,

Nor to the tribe of momentary men.—

Oh, whither, then,

Should it avail to fly?

Ah! whither should I go and stay?

All here is ruin. This mad prey

Shames me for evermore:

Vengeance is at the door;

Yea, all the Achaean host, with armèd hand,

Is ready at command

To slay me o’er and o’er.