Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/533

Rh Following the dappled deer

Swift-footed; lo! on each of you I call,—

Come, bringing succour near

To this our land, and to its people all.

One whose desire is strong

For length of days,

Who slights the middle path,

True path of praise;

He in my eyes shall seem

Mere dreamer vain;

For ofttimes length of days

Brings nought but pain;

And joys—thou can'st not now

Their dwelling guess,

When once a man gives way

To hope's excess;

At last the helper comes

That comes to all,

When Hades' doom appears

And dark shades fall;

Lyreless and songless then,

No wedding guest,

Death comes to work the end,

Death, last and best.

Never to be at all,

Excels all fame;

Quickly, next best, to pass

From whence we came.