PHILOCTETES
Enter PHILOCTETES .
219
Ho!
What men are ye that to this desert shore,
220
Harbourless, uninhabited, are come
On shipboard? Of what country or what race
Shall I pronounce ye? For your outward garb
Is Grecian, ever dearest to this heart
That hungers now to hear your voices’ tune.
225
Ah! do not fear me, do not shrink away
From my wild looks: but, pitying one so poor,
Forlorn and desolate in nameless woe,
Speak, if with friendly purpose ye are come.
Oh answer! ’Tis not meet that I should lose
230
This kindness from your lips, or ye from mine.
Philoctetes. Sophocles. Lewis Campbell (Translator). London, New York and Toronto. 1906.