Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Jebb 1917).djvu/201

394—432] . Alas, thou darkness, my sole light! O thou nether gloom, fairer for me than any sunshine! take me to dwell with you,—yea, take me; for I am no longer worthy to look for help to the race of the gods, or for any good from men, the children of a day.

No, the daughter of Zeus, the strong goddess, torments me to the death. Whither then shall a man flee? Whither shall I go to find rest? If my past fame is destroyed, my friends, along with such victims as these near me—if I have set myself to win a madman's triumphs, and all the host, with sword uplifted in both hands, would strike me dead!

. Ah me unhappy, that a good man and true should utter such words,—words that, till now, he ne'er would have deigned to speak!

. Alas, ye paths of the sounding wave, ye sea-caves and wooded pastures by the shore, long time, long time and very weary have ye known me tarrying at Troy; but no more shall ye know me,—no more with the breath of life: of so much let sane men be sure.

Ah, streams of Scamander near us, kindly to the Greeks, never shall ye look on Ajax more; whose peer in the host—for I will utter a proud word—never hath Troy seen come from the land of Hellas: but now, behold, he hath been humbled to the dust!

. In sooth I know not how to restrain thee, or how suffer thee to speak, whom woes so grievous have befallen.

. Ay me! Who could e'er have thought that my name would chime so meetly with my doom? For well may I now mourn,—yea, twice and three times