Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/398

300 For he, at dead of night, when evening's lamps

No longer burnt, his two-edged sword in hand,

Sought to go out along the lonely paths;

And 1 rebuke him, saying, "What is this

Thou dost, Ο Aias? Why unbidden go

On this emprise, nor by the heralds called,

Nor hearing voice of trump? Lo! all the host

Is sleeping sound." And he, with fewest words,

The well-worn saw, made answer, "Woman, know

That silence is a woman's noblest part."

And, heaving this, I ceased. Then he alone

Rushed forth, and what passed there I cannot tell:

But then he came within, and brought with him

Oxen, and shepherd-dogs, and fleecy flocks.

Some he beheaded, some he clove in twain,

Cutting their throats, and some, fast bound in chains,

He mocked, as they were men, upon the flocks

Venting his fury; and, at last, he rushed

Out through the door, and with a phantom there

He bandied words, against the Atreidæ some,

And some against Odysseus, laughing much

That he had paid them to the full in scorn;

And thence once more within the tent he leapt,

And, long while after, scarce regains his sense.

And when he saw the tent with slaughter filled,

He smote his head and groaned: and, falling down,

He sat among the fallen carcases

Of that great slaughter of the flocks and herds,

Tearing his hair by handfuls with his nails.

And for a long, long time, he speechless sat;

And then with those dread words he threatened me,

Unless I told him all the woeful chance,

And asked me of the plight in which he stood;

And I, my friends, in terror told him all,