Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/412

314 From off these eyes of ours:

Io, and Io still,

Once more, and yet once more.

And now, Ο Zeus, again

A day clear, cloudless, fair,

May dawn upon our ships o'er waves swift-speeding;

For Aias rests from grief,

And now with awe profound,

Duly worships the Gods

With meetest sacrifice.

Time, with great changes, bringeth all things low,

And never shall the word "impossible"

Pass from my lips, since now

Aias from wrath hath turned,

And the hot mood that 'gainst the Atreidæ raged.

Mess. I wish, my friends, to tell my good news first:

Teucros is come but now from Mysian crags,

And coming where the generals all were met,

From all the Argive host foul speech he hears;

For hearing of his coming from afar,

Gathering around him at his head they hurled

Their words of scorn, here, there, and everywhere,

Calling him brother of the madman, kin

Of him who laid his plans against the host,

And threatening that he should not save himself

From falling, bruised and mangled, stoned to death.

So far they went that even swords were drawn

Forth from their scabbards, and were crossed in fight;

And when the strife had reached its furthest bounds,

It ceased with calmer speech of aged men.

But where is Aias that he too may hear?

'Tis right to tell our masters all the truth.