Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/203

Rh

Chor. He who seeks length of life,

Sighting the middle path,

Shall seem, to me at least,

As brooding o'er vain dreams.

Still the long days have brought

Griefs near, and nearer yet.

And joys—thou canst not see

One trace of what they were;

When a man passeth on

To length of days beyond the rightful bourne;

But lo, the helper comes that comes to all,

When doom of Hades looms upon his sight,

The bridegroom's joy all gone,

The lyre all silent now,

The choral music hushed,

Death comes at last.

Happiest beyond compare

Never to taste of life;

Happiest in order next,

Being born, with quickest speed

Thither again to turn

From whence we came.

When youth hath passed away,

With all its follies light,

What sorrow is not there?

What trouble then is absent from our lot?

Murders, strifes, wars, and wrath, and jealousy,

And, closing life's long course, the last and worst,

An age of weak caprice,

Friendless, and hard of speech,

Where, met in union strange,

Dwell ills on ills.