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912—939] . Forsake thee—no; but take thee, perchance, on a bitter voyage—that is the pain that haunts me.

. What meanest thou, my son? I understand not.

. I will tell thee all. Thou must sail to Troy, to the Achaeans and the host of the Atreidae.

. Oh, what hast thou said? . Lament not, till thou learn—

. Learn what? What would'st thou do to me?

. Save thee, first, from this misery,—then go and ravage Troy's plains with thee.

. And this is indeed thy purpose? . A stern necessity ordains it; be not wroth to hear it.

. I am lost, hapless one,—betrayed! What hast thou done unto me, stranger? Restore my bow at once!

. Nay, I cannot: duty and policy alike constrain me to obey my chiefs.

. Thou fire, thou utter monster, thou hateful masterpiece of subtle villainy,—how hast thou dealt with me,—how hast thou deceived me! And thou art not ashamed to look upon me, thou wretch,—the suppliant who turned to thee for pity? In taking my bow, thou hast despoiled me of my life. Restore it, I beseech thee,—restore it, I implore thee, my son! By the gods of thy fathers, do not rob me of my life! Ah me! No—he speaks to me no more; he looks away,—he will not give it up!

O ye creeks and headlands, O ye wild creatures of the hills with whom I dwell, O ye steep cliffs! to you—for to whom else can I speak?—to you, my wonted