Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/410

312 And, going where I find a spot untracked

By human foot, may bury this my sword,

Weapon most hateful, digging up the earth

Where none may see it; but let Hades dark

And Night watch o'er it. For from that same hour

When I received it at great Hector's hands,

A gift most deadly, never kindly word

Had I from any Argive; and most true

Is found the proverb that one hears men say—

"A foe's gifts are as no gifts, profitless."

So for the future we shall know to yield

Our will to God's, shall learn to reverence

The Atreidæ even. They our rulers are,

And we must yield. Why not? The strongest things

That fright the soul still yield to sovereignty.

Winters with all their snow-drifts still withdraw

For summer with its fruits; and night's dark orb

Moves on that day may kindle up its fires,

Day with its chariot drawn by whitest sieeds;

And blast of dreadest winds will lull to rest

The groaning ocean; and all-conquering sleep

Now binds, now frees, and does not hold for aye

Whom once it seized. And shall not we too learn

Our lesson of true wisdom? I, indeed,

Have learnt but now that we should hate a foe

Only so far as one that yet may love,

And to a friend just so much help I'll give

As unto one that will not always stay;

For with most men is friendship's haven found

Most treacherous refuge. But in this our need

All shall be well, and thou, Ο woman, go

Within, and pray the Gods to grant in full

What my heart craves for. And do ye, my friends,

Pay her the self-same honour as to me,