Sophocles Ajax 166

Robert Potter (Translator)

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Chorus
[in the grove.
What voice of mourning from the grove resounds?

Ajax. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.

Current edition Experimental

English (Robert Potter, 1788) (OCR draft) (English) (English (Robert Potter, 1788))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (4)
Αἴας μαστιγοφόρος First1KGreek (Sophocles. Sophoclis Aiax. Lobeck Christian, editor. Berlin: Weidmann, 1866.) — 172-201 focus
Αἴας First1KGreek (Sophocles. Sophoclis Fabulae. Pearson, Alfred Chilton, editor. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924.) — 172-200 focus
Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879)) — 166 focus
ἀπαλέξασθαι σοῦ χωρίς, ἄναξ.
Greek (F. Storr, 1912) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (F. Storr, 1912)) — 172-200 focus
Translations (4)
English (Lewis Campbell, 1906) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Lewis Campbell, 1906)) — 166 focus
TEC
No eye shall see him. I will veil him round
With this all covering mantle; since no heart
That loved him could endure to view him there,
With ghastly expiration spouting forth
From mouth and nostrils, and the deadly wound,
The gore of his self slaughter. Ah, my lord!
What shall I do? What friend will carry thee?
Oh, where is Teucer! Timely were his hand,
Might he come now to smooth his brother’s corse.
O thou most noble, here ignobly laid,
Even enemies methinks must mourn thy fate!
Ah! ’twas too clear thy firm knit thoughts would fashion,
Early or late, an end of boundless woe!
Such heaving groans, such bursts of heart-bruised passion,
Midnight and morn, bewrayed the fire below.
‘The Atridae might beware!’
A plenteous fount of pain was opened there,
What time the strife was set,
Wherein the noblest met,
Grappling the golden prize that kindled thy despair!
German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review) (OCR draft) Experimental (German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review)) — 172 focus
Trieb dich die Tochter des Zeus, die Vertilgerin,
Artemis, schweres Gerücht, Quelle bitt'rer Schande mir!
Auf unsres Volkes Gut, in die weidenden Rinder,
Wohl wegen eines ohne Dank erkämpften Siegs, 1
175
Sei es um Gaben getäuscht
Von stolzer Rüstung oder um Beuten der Sagd?
Wie? Oder zürnt dir Ares im ehernen Kleid,
Hat, weil mit Undank ihm du die Hülfe gelohnt,
Dich gestraft mit nächtlichem Blendwerk?
180
Gegenstrophe.
English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759)) — 166 focus
Chorus
It is indeed
985
Too much to bear.
985
English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904)) — 172-200 focus

Commentary

Commentary (R. C. Jebb) (OCR draft) (Commentary (R. C. Jebb))

mvp-comment-517-1 τίνος βοὴ 1 πάραυλος 2