Teucer
992cont2
Of all the sights, which e'er my eyes beheld,
Most mournful this; 'my feet ne'er trod a path
Which led to grief, that rends the heart, like this,
Through which, O dearest Ajax, of thy death
Soon as inform'd, I follow'd thee, and traced
Thy steps; for quick through all the Grecian camp
The rumour of thy dreadful fate was spread,
As of some god: I heard it with dismay,
And distant then groan'd deep; I see it now,
And sink oppress'd with misery. Go, remove
That robe, that all the ill these eyes may view.
Oh, what a sight of horror! What a deed
Of daring desperation! What a store
Of woes hast thou in death laid up for me!
For whither, to what people can I go,
In thy distress who gave thee not my aid?
Will Telamon, the father of us both,
With gentle looks and well-affection'd mind
Receive me, without thee? Will he do this,
Who never, e'en in prosperous fortune, wore
A pleasing smile? Much rather will he give
His rage full scope, and wound me with reproach,
That from a slave, the captive of his arms,
Base-born, through cowardice and abject fear,
Or with a villain's wiles, I have betray'd
And rich possessions. Thus, to anger prompt
By nature, and through age now more severe,
He to high passions will give way, and urge
A charge against me I have not deserved ::
Thus rated as a slave shall I be driven...
An outcast from my country. This my doom
At Salamis: but on the coast of Troy
I shall find many enemies, but few
To favour me, and all this through thy death.
But how, ah wretched me! how shall I draw
Thy body from this sharp deep-piercing sword?
It vibrates in the ground. Unhappy man,
By whom art thou thus slaughter'd! Did thy thought
Conceive that e'er the fatal time would come
When Hector, though long dead, should work thy death?
Mark, by the gods, the fate of both the Chiefs:
Bound by the radiant belt, which Ajax gave,
Was Hector by the rolling chariot dragg'd
The gift of Hector, falls and lies in blood.
Did not the Furies forge that slaughtering sword,
And hell's dread monarch, ruthless artist, frame
That belt? These things I deem, and all th' events
Befalling mortal man, are by the gods
Always assign'd... Is there whose mind dissents?
Let him enjoy his thoughts: but these are mine.
