Chorus
169
Alas ! 1 pity him. Without a friend.
Without a fellow-sufferer, left alone,
Deprived of all the mutual joys that flow
From sweet society — distempered too !
How can he bear it ? O unhappy race
170
Of mortal man ! doomed to an endless round
170
Of sorrows, and immeasurable woe !
170
Second to none in fair nobility
170
Yet here he lies, from every human aid
Far off removed, in dreadful solitude,
And mingles with the wild and savage herd ;
With them in famine and in misery
Consumes his days, and weeps their common fate.
Unheeded, save when babbling echo mourns
In bitterest notes responsive to his woe.
Philoctetes. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.