Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/420

322 By the Atreidæ stern

Heaped upon this our grief:

But may God ward it off!

Tec. But for the Gods this had not happened so.

Chor. Yea, they have wrought a trouble hard to bear.

Tec. Such woe does Pallas, dreaded child of Zeus,

For her Odysseus' sake inflict on us.

Chor. Lo! the man subtle to dare,

Mocks in the dark of his soul,

And laughs at this frenzy of woe

(Fie on 't!) a laugh loud and long,

And with him those who share the name of king,

The Atreidæ, as they hear.

Tec. Let them, then, mock and laugh at this man's woes;

The time may come when they who did not care

To see him living, in the need of war

May groan that he is dead; for still the base

In purpose never know the good they have,

Until they lose it. Bitter woe to me

His death has brought, to them good cheer, but joy,

Great joy to him; for what he sought to gain,

Yea, death that he desired, he now hath won.

How, then, can they exult in this man's death?

'Twas for the Gods, and not for them he died.]

In empty vaunt, then, let Odysseus boast,

For Aias is beyond them; but for me

He leaves, departing, wailing and lament.

Teu. Woe is me! Ah, woe!

Chor. [To .] Hush! for I think I hear our Teucros cry,

With wailing loud that hits this great woe's mark.