Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/534

436

When youth hath passed away,

With follies vain,

Who then is free from cares?

Where is not pain?

Murders and strifes and wars,

Envy and hate;

Then, evil worst of all,

The old man's fate:

Powerless and wayward then,

No friend to cheer,—

All ills on ills are met,

All dwelling there.

Thus this poor sufferer lives,

Not I alone;

As on far northern coast

Wild waters moan,

So without rest or hope,

Woes round him swarm,

Dread as the waves that rage,

Dark as the storm,—

Some from the far, far west

Where sunsets glow;

Some where through eastern skies

Dawn's bright rays flow;

These where the burning south

Feels the hot light,

Those where Rhipæan hills

Rise in dark night.

New sorrows throng on me,

From new source come,