Philoctetes
Oh! thou art full
Of piety ; in thee it is no crime ;
In thee, my friend, by whom alone I look
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Once more with pleasure on the radiant sun —
By whom I live— who giv'st me to return
To my dear father, to my friends, my country :
Sunk as I was beneath my foes, once more
I rise to triumph o'er them by thy aid :
Behold them, touch them, but return them to me,
And boast that virtue which on thee alone
Bestowed such honour. Virtue made them mine.
I can deny thee nothing : he, whose heart
Is grateful can alone deserve the name
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Of friend, to every treasure far superior.
ISTeo. Go in.
Philoctetes. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.