Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/415

Rh Tec. Woe, woe is me! From whom did he learn this?

Mess. From Thestor's son, the seer, who says this day,

This very day, brings life or death to him.

Tec. Ah, friends, come help me in my low estate,

And hasten, some, to bring me Teucros here;

Some seek the western bays, and some the east;

Go ye, and search the wanderings of my lord,

So fraught with evil. Well I see it now,

My husband tricked me, and has cast me out

From all his old affection. Ah, my son!

What shall we do? We must not linger here,

But I will onward with all strength I have.

On, hasten we; no time for loitering this,

Wishing to save a man so bent on death.]

Chor. Full ready I, and not in words alone:

Swift action and swift feet shall go with them.

[Exeunt, Messenger, and Chorus.

Aias. The slayer stands where sharpest it will pierce,—

If one had time to think of that,—the gift

Of Hector, whom of all men most I loathed,

And found most hostile. And in Troïa's soil,

Soil of our foes, it stands with sharpened edge,

Fresh whetted with the stone that wears the steel;

And I have fixed it carefully and well

Where most it favours speedy death for him

Who standeth here. So far, so good: and first,

Ο Zeus, (for this is right,) be kind to me.

I ask but this, (no mighty boon, I trow,)

Send some one as a messenger to bear

The evil news to Teucros, that he first

May lift my corpse, by this sharp sword transfixed,