Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/455

Rh Chor. O Goddess Earth, that reignest on the hills,

Giver of food to all;

Mother of Zeus himself,

Who dwellest where the full Pactolos rolls

Its streams o'er golden sands;

There also, dreaded Mother, I invoked thee,

When all the scorn of the Atreidæ fell

On him who standeth here,

When they his father's weapons gave away

(O Holy One, who sittest on thy car,

On lions fierce that slay the mighty bulls!)

To Lartios' son a glory and a prize.

Phil. 'Twould seem that you have hither sailed, my friends,

With sorrow's friendship-token, and with mine

Your voice accords, so that I see these deeds

Are by the Atreidæ and Odysseus done:

For well I know that he with that glib tongue

Leaves no base speech or subtlety untouched,

From which nought right shall in the issue spring.

At this I marvel not, but much to think

The elder Aias should have seen and borne it.

Neop. He was not living, friend. Had he but lived,

I had not then been plundered of these things.

Phil. What say'st thou? Is he also dead and gone?

Neop. Think thou of him as seeing light no more.

Phil. Ah, wretched me! That son to Tydeus born,

That child of Sisyphos that Lartios bought,