Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/471

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Chor. Come, blowing softly, Sleep, that know'st not pain,

Sleep, ignorant of grief,

Come softly, surely, kingly Sleep, and bless;

Keep still before his eyes

The band of light which lies upon them now.

Come, come, thou healing one:

And thou, my son, take heed

How thou or stand or stir,

And what new counsels lie before us now;

Thou see'st him: wherefore, then,

Do we delay to act?

Occasion guiding counsel, in all things,

If used at once, gains prize of victory.

Neop. [In an altered tone, as if chanting an oracle.] He,

indeed, heareth nought, and well I see that all vainly,

Sailing off without him, we gain the spoil of his weapons.

His are the glory and crown, him the God bade us bring with us;

And sore disgrace will it be, false boasting of task-work unfinished.

Chor. For this, my son, God's will shall well provide;

But what thou speak'st again

Speak gently, Ο my son, speak gently now

With 'bated breath, speak low.

To all whom pain and sickness make their own,

Sleep is but sleepless still,

And quick to glance and see.

But now, with all thy power,

Look thou to that, to that, all secretly,