Philoctetes
[JSxeunt.
ACT II.
Scene I.
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Say, welcome stmngers, what disastrous
fate
Led you to this inhospitable shore,
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Nor haven safe, nor habitation fit
Affording ever ? Of what clime, what race ?
Who are ye 1 Speak ! If I may trust that garb,
Familiar once to me, ye are of Greece,
My much-loved country. Let me hear the sound
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Of your long wished-for voices. Do not look
With horror on me, but in kind compassion
Pity a wretch deserted and forlorn
In this sad place. Oh ! if ye come as friends,
Speak then, and answer — hold some converse with me,
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For this at least from man to man is due.
Philoctetes. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.