Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/493

Rh Thou son of Pœas old;

Own that thou hear'st the voice of Heracles

And look'st upon his face.

Lo, for thy sake I come,

Leaving my heavenly home,

To tell thee of the thoughts of Zeus on high,

And to close up the way

On which thou journeyest now.

List thou to these my words:

And first my own life's chances I will tell,

The labours I endured, through which I passed

And gained immortal greatness as thou see'st:

And this, be sure, shall be thy destined lot,

After these woes to live a noble life;

And going with this youth to Troïa's town,

First thou shalt respite find from thy sore plague,

And for thy valour chosen from the host,

Shalt with my arrows take away the life

Of Paris, who was cause of all these ills,

And shalt sack Troïa, and shalt send its spoils

To thine own dwelling (gaining highest prize

Of valour in the army) by the plains

Of Œta, where thy father Pœas dwells.

And all the spoils thou gainest in this war,

As true thank-offerings for these darts of mine,

Lay thou upon my grave. And now [To ] to thee,

Achilles' son, I this declare;—nor thou,

Apart from him, nor he apart from thee,

May Troïa take. But ye, as lions twain

That roam together, guard thou him, he thee.

And I will send, [To ] as healer of thy wounds,

Asclepios to Ilion. Yet once more