Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/466

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Never from out the lap of sacred earth

The seed-corn gathering,

Nor aught that we, who live by work, enjoy,

But only what perchance

He gained, the pangs of hunger to appease,

With those swift-wingèd darts

That travelled straight and far.

Ο soul deep plunged in woe,

Who never, in the space of ten long years,

Did know the wine-cup's joy,

But still did go, where eager glance might guide,

To drink of standing pool;

But now, thou, meeting one from heroes sprung,

Shalt end in being great,

And prosper well after those woes of thine;

Who now, the long months passed,

Art borne in ship that travels o'er the waves

To that thy father's home,

Where wander Malia's nymphs,

And by Spercheios' banks,

Where he who bore the brazen shield, though man,

Draws near, a God, to Gods,

Bright with the fire that flashes from the sky,

High above Œta's slopes.

Neop. Come, if thou wilt. But why, without a cause,

Stand'st thou so silent and astonishèd?