Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/457

Rh Of such things form, how offer praise, when still,

Praising the Gods, I find the Gods are base?

Neop. I, Ο thou son of sire whom Œta knows

I, for the future, with a far-off glance

At Ilion and the Atreidæ, stand on guard;

And where the worse o'erpowers the better man,

And good things perish, and the coward wins,

These men, and such as these, I ne'er will love;

But rocky Skyros shall in time to come

Suffice for me to take mine ease at home.

Now to my ship I go. And thou, Ο son

Of Pœas, fare thee well, good luck be thine,

And may the Gods release thee from thy pain,

As thou desirest! Now then let us start;

When God fair weather gives us, then we sail.

Phil. And do ye start already?

Neop. Yes; the time

Bids us our voyage think near, and not far off.

Phil. By thy dear sire and mother, I, my son,

Implore thee as a suppliant, by all else

To thee most dear, thus lonely leave me not,

Abandoned to these evils which thou see'st,

With which thou hearest that I still abide;

But think of me as thrown on you by chance:

Right well I know how noisome such a freight;

Yet still do thou endure it. Noble souls

Still find the base is hateful, and the good

Is full of glory. And for thee, my son,

Leaving me here comes shame that is not good;

But doing what I ask thee thou shalt have

Thy meed of greatest honour, should I reach

Alive and well the shores of Œta's land.