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The Thracians go off in pursuit. Meantime the original Guards who form the Chorus have hastened back. The two Greeks are presently seen crossing at the back in a different direction.
710
CHORUS.
Who was the man that passed?
Who, that, so madly bold,
Even as I held him fast,
Laughed, and I loosed my hold?
Where shall I find him now?
695
What shall I deem of him,
To steal thro’ the guards a-row,
Quaking not, eye nor limb,
On thro’ the starlight dim?
Is he of
Thessaly
,
Born by the Locrian sea,
700
Or harvester of some starved island’s corn?
What man hath seen his face?
What was his name or race,
What the high God
1
by whom his sires have sworn?
Who was the man that passed?
Who, that, so madly bold,
Even as I held him fast,
Laughed, and I loosed my hold?
Where shall I find him now?
695
What shall I deem of him,
To steal thro’ the guards a-row,
Quaking not, eye nor limb,
On thro’ the starlight dim?
Is he of
Thessaly
,
Born by the Locrian sea,
700
Or harvester of some starved island’s corn?
What man hath seen his face?
What was his name or race,
What the high God
1
by whom his sires have sworn?
DIVERS GUARDS
(talking).
This night must be Odysseus’ work, or whose?—
Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use.—
705
Odysseus surely!—That is thy belief?—
What else? It seems he hath no fear
Of such as we!—Whom praise ye there?
Whose prowess? Say!—Odysseus.—Nay,
Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
This night must be Odysseus’ work, or whose?—
Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use.—
705
Odysseus surely!—That is thy belief?—
What else? It seems he hath no fear
Of such as we!—Whom praise ye there?
Whose prowess? Say!—Odysseus.—Nay,
Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
CHORUS.
He came once, of old,
710
Up thro’ the city throng,
Foam on his lips, a-cold,
Huddled in rags that hung
Covering just the sword
Hid in his mantle’s pleat;
His face grimed and scored,
715
A priest of wandering feet,
Who begged his bread in the street.
Many and evil things
He cast on the brother kings
Like one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore;
Would that a curse, yea, would
The uttermost wrath of God
720
Had held those feet from walking
Ilion
’s shore!
He came once, of old,
710
Up thro’ the city throng,
Foam on his lips, a-cold,
Huddled in rags that hung
Covering just the sword
Hid in his mantle’s pleat;
His face grimed and scored,
715
A priest of wandering feet,
Who begged his bread in the street.
Many and evil things
He cast on the brother kings
Like one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore;
Would that a curse, yea, would
The uttermost wrath of God
720
Had held those feet from walking
Ilion
’s shore!
DIVERS GUARDS
(talking).
Odysseus or another, ’tis the guard
Will weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard.—
What will he say?—He will suspect.—Suspect?
What evil? What should make you fear?—
725
’Twas we that left a passage clear.—
A passage?—Yea, for these men’s way,
Who came by night into the lines unchecked.
Odysseus or another, ’tis the guard
Will weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard.—
What will he say?—He will suspect.—Suspect?
What evil? What should make you fear?—
725
’Twas we that left a passage clear.—
A passage?—Yea, for these men’s way,
Who came by night into the lines unchecked.
Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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