Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/421

Rh Teu. Ο best-loved Aias, brother dear to me,

Hast thou, then, fared so ill as rumour holds?

Chor. Our lord is dead, Ο Teucros, doubt it not.

Teu. Oh, woe is me! Woe for my grievous lot!

Chor. At such a pass

Teu. Oh, miserable me!

Chor. Thou well may'st groan.

Teu. Ο rash and ruthless death!

Chor. Too truly so, Ο Teucros.

Teu. Woe is me!

What of his child? Where in all Troïa is he?

Chor. Alone, within the tents.

Teu. Why bring ye not

With quickest speed the boy, lest any foe

Seize him, as whelp of lonely lioness?

Go, hasten, work together. All are wont

To treat with scorn the dead that prostrate lie.

[Some of the Chorus bring in.

Chor. And while he lived, Ο Teucros, thee he charged,

For this his boy to care, as now thou car'st.

Teu. Sight of all sights most painful; of all paths

Path vexing most my spirit, this, which now

My feet have taken, where, Ο Aias dear,

Still following thee and tracking out thy course,

I learnt thy fate: for lo! a swift report,

As though some God had spread it, went of thee

Through all the Achæans, that thy death had come;

And I in woe, and hearing it far off,

Groaned low; and seeing, perish utterly.

Ah, me!

Come, lay it bare, that I may see it well,

The whole dread evil. Ο most ghastly sight,

And work of bitter daring, what a woe