Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/408

310 [Sailors take, and the Attendant to the women's tent.

Tec. [From the tent.] Oh, by the Gods, relent thou.

Aias. Thou dost seem

A foolish thing to purpose, if thou think'st

At such a time as this to school my mood.

[Exit, into his tent.

Chor. Ο glorious Salamis!

Thou dwellest, blest within thy sea-girt shores,

Admired of all men still;

While I, poor fool, long since abiding here

In Ida's grassy mead,

Winter and summer too,

Dwell, worn with woe, through months innumerable,

Still brooding o'er the fear of evil things,

That I ere long shall pass

To shades of Hades terrible and dread.

And now our Aias comes,

Fresh troubler, hard to heal, (ah me! ah me!)

And dwells with madness sore,

Which God inflicts; him thou of old did'st send

Mighty in battle fierce;

But now in lonely woe

Wandering, great sorrow he to friends is found,

And the high deeds of worthiest praise of old,

Loveless to loveless souls,

Are with the Atreidæ fallen, fallen low.

And, lo! his mother, worn with length of days,

And white with hoary age,