Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/371

Rh Wailing her fate, nor yet to kiss her lips,

But, falling side by side, he lay and groaned,

That he had falsely brought a charge of guilt

Against her, wailing that he now was left,

Of father and of mother both bereaved.

So stand things there; and if one dares to count

On two short days, or more, vain fool is he;

The morrow is as nought, till one has passed

The present day in fair prosperity.

Chor. Which shall I wail for first?

Which sorrow goes furthest in woe?

Hard question is this to decide,

For me at least in my grief.

One evil we see close at hand,

And one we await in our fear:

And whether we see or await,

The sorrow is equal in both.

Would that some blast of the winds

Might rise with fair gale on our hearth,

And carry me far from these climes,

That I might not die in my fear,

At the sight of this strong son of Zeus.

For, lo! they say that he comes

To his home in pain none can heal,

A marvel of infinite woe.

Near, close at hand, not far off,

I wailed, as a nightingale sad;

Dread steps of strangers draw nigh.