Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/281

Rh Do thou go in, whene'er occasion serves,

Within this house, and learn what passes there,

That, knowing all, thou may'st report it well;

Changed as thou art by age and lapse of years,

They will not know thee, nor, with those grey hairs,

Even suspect thee. And with this pretence

Go in, that thou a Phokian stranger art,

Come from a man named Phanoteus; for he

Of all their friends is counted most in fame,

And tell them—yea, and add a solemn oath—

That some fell fate has brought Orestes' death,

In Pythian games, from out the whirling car

Rolled headlong to the earth. This tale tell thou;

And we, first honouring my father's grave,

As the God bade us, with libations pure

And tresses from our brow, will then come back,

Bearing the urn well wrought with sides of bronze,

Which, thou know'st well, 'mid yonder shrubs lies hid,

That we with crafty words may bring to them

The pleasant news that my poor frame is gone,

Consumed with fire, to dust and ashes turned.

Why should this grieve me, when, by show of death,

In truth I safety gain, and win renown?

To me no speech that profits soundeth ill,

For often have I seen men known as wise,

Reported dead in words of idle tales,

And then, when fortune brings them home again,

Gain more abundant honours. So I boast