Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/475

Rh Restore them, Ο my son. By all the Gods

Thy fathers worshipped, rob me not of life.

Ah, wretched me! He does not answer me,

But looks away as one who will not yield.

Ο creeks! Ο cliffs out-jutting in the deep!

Ο all ye haunts of beasts that roam the hills,

Ο rocks that go sheer down, to you I wail,

(None other do I know to whom to speak,)

To you who were my old familiar friends,

The things this son of great Achilles does;

Swearing that he would take me to my home

He takes me off to Troïa; giving me

His right hand as a pledge, he keeps my bow,

The bow of Heracles, the son of Zeus,

And fain would show me to the Argive host.

He takes me off by force, as though I were

In my full strength, and knows not that he slays

A dead, cold corpse, a very vapour's shade,

A phantom worthless. Never, were I strong,

Had he o'erpowered me; even as I am

He had not caught me but by fraud; but now

I have been tricked most vilely. What comes next?

What must I do? Nay, give them back to me.

Be thyself once again. What sayest thou?

Thou 'rt silent I, poor I, am now as nought.

Ο cave with double opening, once again

I enter thee stript bare, my means of life

Torn from me. I shall waste away alone

In this my dwelling, slaying with this bow

Nor wingèd bird, nor beast that roams the hills;

But I myself, alas, shall give a meal

To those who gave me mine, and whom I chased

Now shall chase me; and I, in misery,

Shall pay in death the penalty of death