Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/372

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And how do they bear him? They come,

As mourning a friend, with hushed tread;

Silently so is he borne.

Ah, must we deem him as dead,

Or has he fallen asleep?

Hyllos. Ah me ! ah me, Ο my father!

Ah me, for thee in my woe!

What must I suffer, ah me!

What shall I counsel or plan?

Elder. Hush, my son! lest thou stir

Thy sore-vexed father's woe;

Still lives he, though he lies

Thus prostrate on his couch:

Hush! bite thy lips; be still.

Hyllos. How say'st thou? Doth he live?

Elder. Wake him not, plunged in sleep;

Move him not, lest thou rouse,

Ο boy, the dreaded scourge

That drives him in frenzy of soul.

Hyllos. Yea; but on me, in my woe,

Presses a boundless grief;

Wildly my spirit swells.

Hera. [Waking.] Zeus! In what land am I?

On whose coasts lie, laid low

In anguish nought can soothe?

Ah! once more the dire pest

Gnaws the heart's inmost core.

Elder. [To Hyllos.] Did'st thou not know what gain

Lies in restraining speech,

Not driving sleep 'from his eyes?