Sir Richard C. Jebb Commentary on Sophocles: Philoctetes 3

Commentary on Sophocles: Philoctetes. Sir Richard C. Jebb. Cambridge. 1932.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Funding provided by National Endowment for the Humanities.

Current edition Experimental

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

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (2)
Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879)) — 219 focus
ἰὼ ξένοι,
τίνες ποτ᾽ ἐς γῆν τήνδε ναυτίλῳ πλάτῃ ναυτίλῳ πλάτῃ κάκ ποίας πάτρας ναυτίλω κώπῃ τῇ πλάτη προσρμίσατε τίνες ποτ᾽ ἐσ γῆν τήνδε κἀκ ποίας πάτρας κἀκ ποίας πάτρας κἀκ ποίας πέτρας
220
κατέσχετ' οὔτ᾽ εὔορμον οὔτ᾽ οἰκουμένην ;
ποίας πάτρας ἂν ἢ γένους *ὑμᾶς πάτρας ἂν ὑμᾶς ἡ γένους πάτρας ὑμᾶς ἂν ἡ γένους ποτὲ
τύχοιμ᾽ ἂν εἰπών; σχῆμα μὲν γὰρ ῾Ελλάδος
στολῆς ὑπάρχει προσφιλεστάτης ἐμοί·
φωνῆς δ᾽ ἀκοῦσαι βούλομαι· καὶ μή μ᾽ ὄκνῳ
225
δείσαντες ἐκπλαγῆτ᾽ ἀπηγριωμένον,
ἀλλ᾽ οἰκτίσαντες ἄνδρα δύστηνον, μόνον,
ἔρημον ὧδε κἄφιλον *κακούμενον καλούμενον καλών μενον καλάμινον,
φωνήσατ᾽, εἴπερ ὡς φίλοι προσήκετε.
ἀλλ᾽ ἀνταμείψασθ᾽ ἀνταμείψασθ'· οὐ γὰρ εἰκὸς οὔτ᾽ ἐμὲ
230
ὑμῶν ἁμαρτεῖν τοῦτό γ᾽ οὔθ᾽ ὑμᾶς ἐμοῦ.
ὦ .. ὦ ὦ .. ὦ ὦ .. ὦ ὦ .. ὡς πόλλ᾽ ἐγὼ μοχθηρός, ὦ πικρὸς θεοῖς,
οὐ μηδὲ κληδὼν ὧδ᾽ ἔχοντος οἴκαδε
255
μηδ᾽ ῾Ελλάδος γῆς μηδαμοῦ διῆλθέ που.
ὁ μὲν χρόνος δὴ οὖν δὴ διὰ χρόνου προὔβαινέ πρόβαινε προὔβαινε μοι,
285
κἄδει τι βαιῇ βαίᾳ τῇδ᾽ τίδ᾽ τῇδ᾽ ὑπὸ στέγῃ μόνον
διακονεῖσθαι· γαστρὶ μὲν τὰ σύμφορα
τόξον τόδ᾽ ἐξεύρισκε εὕρισκε ἐξεύρισκε, τὰς ὑποπτέρους
βάλλον πελείας· πρὸς δὲ τοῦθ᾽, ὅ μοι βάλοι
νευροσπαδὴς ἄτρακτος om add, αὐτὸς ἂν τάλας
290
εἰλυόμην δύστηνος ἐξέλκων πόδα
πρὸς τοῦτ᾽ ἄν· εἴ τ᾽ εἶτ᾽ ἔδει τι καὶ ποτὸν λαβεῖν,
καί που πάγου χυθέντος, οἷα χείματι,
ξύλον τι θραῦσαι, ταῦτ᾽ ἂν ἐξέρπων τάλας
ἐμηχανώμην· εἶτα πῦρ ἂν οὐ παρῆν,
295
ἀλλ᾽ ἐν πέτροισι πέτρον ἐκτρίβων ἐκθλίβων ἐκθλίβων ἐκτρίβων μόλις
ἔφην᾿ ἄφαντον φῶς, ὃ καὶ σώζει μ' ἀεί.
ἔοικα κἀγὼ τοῖς ἀφιγμένοις ἴσα
ξένοις ἐποικτείρειν σε, Ποίαντος τέκνον.
ἦλθόν με νηὶ ποικιλοστόλῳ ποικιλοστόλῳ ποικιλοστόμῳ ποικιλοστόλῳ ποικίλῳ στόλῳ μέτα
διός τ᾽ Ὀδυσσεὺς χώ τροφεὺς τοὐμοῦ πατρός,
λέγοντες, εἴτ᾿ ἀληθὲς εἴτ᾿ ἄρ᾽ οὖν μάτην,
345
ὡς οὐ θέμις γίγνοιτ' γίνοιτ', ἐπεὶ κατέφθιτο
Ὀρεστέρα παμβῶτι Γᾶ ya yᾷ γὰ, μᾶτερ αὐτοῦ Διός,
ἃ τὸν μέγαν Πακτωλὸν εὔχρυσον νέμεις,
σὲ κἀκεῖ, μᾶτερ πότνι, ἐπηυδώμαν,
ὅτ᾽ ἐς τόνδ᾽ ᾿Ατρειδᾶν ὕβρις πᾶσ᾽ ἐχώρει,
ὅτε τὰ πάτρια τεύχεα τεύ(χ)χεα παρεδίδοσαν παραδίδοσαν παρεδίδοσαν,
395
ἰὼ μάκαιρα ταυροκτόνων
λεόντων ἔφεδρε, τῷ Λαρτίου λαερτίου λαρτίου
σέβας ὑπέρτατον.
ἔχοντες, ὡς ἔοικε, σύμβολον σαφές
λύπης πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ὦ ξένοι, πεπλεύκατε,
400
καί μοι προσᾴδεθ᾽ ὥστε γιγνώσκειν γινώσκειν ὅτι
ταῦτ᾽ ἐξ᾿ Ατρειδῶν ἔργα· κἀξ᾿Οδυσσέως.
ἔξοιδα γάρ νιν παντὸς ἂν λόγου κακοῦ
γλώσσῃ θιγόντα καὶ πανουργίας, ἀφ᾿ ἧς
μηδὲν δίκαιον ἐς τέλος μέλλοι ποιεῖν.
405
ποίου γε τούτου πλήν γ' Ὀδυσσέως ἐρεῖς;
πρός νύν νῦν σε πατρός, πρός τε μητρός, ὦ τέκνον,
465
πρός τ' εἴ τί σοι κατ' οἰκόν ἐστι προσφιλές,
ἱκέτης ἱκνοῦμαι, μὴ λίπῃς λείπηισ λίπης μ' οὕτω μόνον,
ἔρημον ἐν κακοῖσι τοῖσδ᾽ οἷοις ὁρᾷς
ὅσοισί τ᾽ ἐξήκουσας ἐνναίοντά ἐννέοντα ἐννέοντα ἐνναίοντα ἐννέποντα με·
ἀλλ᾽ ἐν παρέργῳ θοῦ με. δυσχέρεια μέν,
470
ἔξοιδα, πολλὴ τοῦδε τοῦ φορήματος·
ὅμως δέ δὲ τλῆθι, τοῖσι γενναίοισί τοι
τό τ' αἰσχρὸν ἐχθρὸν καὶ τὸ χρηστὸν εὐκλεές.
σοὶ δ᾽, ἐκλιπόντι τοῦτ᾽, ὄνειδος οὐ καλόν,
δράσαντι δ᾽, ὦ παῖ, πλεῖστον εὐκλείας γέρας,
475
ἐὰν μόλωἐγὼ ζῶν πρὸς Οἰταίαν χθόνα.
ἴθ᾽· ἡμέρας τοι μόχθος οὐχ ὅλης μιᾶς.
τόλμησον, ἐμβαλοῦ ἐκβαλοῦ ἐμβαλοῦ μ᾿ ὅπῃ θέλεις ἄγων,
Οἴκτειρ᾽, ἄναξ· πολλῶν ἔλεξεν ἔλεξε δυσοίστων πόνων
ἆθλ᾽, ὅσσα μηδεὶς τῶν ἐμῶν τύχοι φίλων.
505
εἰ δὲ πικρούς πικρούς, ἄναξ, ἔχθεις ᾿Ατρείδας,
ἐγὼ μέν, τὸ κείνων κακὸν τῷδε κέρδος
μετατιθέμενος μέγα τιθέμενος μετατιθέμενος, ἔνθαπερ ἐπιμέμονεν ἐπεὶ μέμονεν ἐπεὶ μέμηνεν,
ἐπ᾿ εὐστόλου ταχείας νεὼς
πορεύσαιμ᾽ ἂν ἐς δόμους, τὰν * θεῶν τὰν ἐκ θεῶν
510
νέμεσιν ἐκφυγών.
ὅρα σὺ μὴ νῦν μέν τις εὐχερὴς παρῇς,
ὅταν δὲ πλησθῇς τῆς νόσου ξυνουσίᾳ,
τότ᾽ τόθ᾽ τότ' οὐκέθ᾽ αὑτὸς οὐκέθ᾽ αὐτὸσ οὐκ᾿ ἔθ᾽ ὡὐτὸσ τοῖς λόγοις τούτοις φανῇς.
ἀλλ᾽ ἡ χάρις μὲν τῆς προμηθίας, ξένε,
550
εἰ μὴ κακὸς πέφυκα, προσφιλὴς μενεῖ·
φράσον δ᾽ ἅπερ γ᾽ om. γ' ἔλεξας, ὡς μάθω τί μοι
νεώτερον βούλευμ᾽ βούλευμα ἀπ᾿ ᾿Αργείων ἔχεις.
λέγω. ἐπὶ τοῦτον ἄνδρε τώδ᾽ ἅπερ κλύεις,
ὁ Τυδέως παῖς ἥ τ᾿ Οδυσσέως βία,
διώμοτοι πλέουσιν ἢ ή ή μὴν ἢ λόγῳ
595
πείσαντες ἄξειν, ἢ πρὸς ἰσχύος κράτος.
καὶ ταῦτ᾽ ᾿Αχαιοὶ πάντες ἤκουον σαφῶς
Οδυσσέως λέγοντος, οὗτος γὰρ πλέον
τὸ θάρσος εἶχε θατέρου, δράσειν τάδε.
οὔκουν τάδ', ὦ παῖ, δεινά, τὸν Λαερτίου
630
ἔμ᾽ ἐλπίσαι ποτ᾽ ἂν λόγοισι μαλθακοῖς
δεῖξαι νεὼς ἄγοντ᾽ ἄγονθ ἄγοντ᾿ ἐν om. Ἀργείοις μέσοις;
οὔ. οὔ θᾶσσον ἂν τῆς πλεῖστον ἐχθίστης ἐμοὶ
κλύοιμ᾽ ἐχίδνης, ἡ μ᾿ ἔθηκεν ὧδ᾽ ἄπουν.
ἀλλ᾽ ἔστ᾽ ἐκείνῳ πάντα λεκτά, πάντα δὲ
635
τολμητά, καὶ νῦν οἶδ᾽ ὁθούνεχ᾽ ὅθ᾽ οὔνεκ᾽ ὅθ᾽ ὁύνεχ' ἴξεται.
Greek (F. Storr, 1912) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (F. Storr, 1912)) — 219-390 focus
Translations (5)
English (Lewis Campbell, 1906) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Lewis Campbell, 1906)) — 219 focus
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.
How full of griefs am I, how Heaven-abhorred,
When of my piteous state no faintest sound
Hath reached my home, or any Grecian land!
But they, who pitilessly cast me forth,
Keep silence and are glad, while this my plague
Blooms ever, and is strengthened more and more.
Boy, great Achilles’ offspring, in this form
Thou seest the man, of whom, methinks, erewhile
Thou hast been told, to whom the Hercúlean bow
Descended, Philoctetes, Poeas’ son;
Whom the two generals and the Ithacan king
Cast out thus shamefully forlorn, afflicted
With the fierce malady and desperate wound
Made by the cruel basilisk’s murderous tooth.
With this for company they left me, child!
Exposed upon this shore, deserted, lone.
From seaward Chrysa came they with their fleet
And touched at Lemnos. I had fallen to rest
From the long tossing, in a shadowy cave
On yonder cliff by the shore. Gladly they saw,
And left me, having set forth for my need,
Poor man, some scanty rags, and a thin store
255
Of provender. Such food be theirs, I pray!
255
Imagine, O my son, when they were gone,
255
What wakening, what arising, then was mine;
255
What weeping, what lamenting of my woe!
255
When I beheld the ships, wherewith I sailed,
255
Gone, one and all! and no man in the place,
255
None to bestead me, none to comfort me
255
In my sore sickness. And where’er I looked,
255
Nought but distress was present with me still.
255
No lack of that, for one thing!—Ah! my son,
255
Time passed, and there I found myself alone
255
Within my narrow lodging, forced to serve
255
Each pressing need. For body’s sustenance
255
This bow supplied me with sufficient store,
255
Wounding the feathered doves, and when the shaft,
255
From the tight string, had struck, myself, ay me!
255
Dragging this foot, would crawl to my swift prey.
255
Then water must be fetched, and in sharp frost
255
Wood must be found and broken,—all by me.
255
Nor would fire come unbidden, but with flint
255
From flints striking dim sparks, I hammered forth
The struggling flame that keeps the life in me.
For houseroom with the single help of fire
Gives all I need, save healing for my sore.
Now learn, my son, the nature of this isle.
No mariner puts in here willingly.
For it hath neither moorage, nor sea-port,
For traffic or kind shelter or good cheer.
Not hitherward do prudent men make voyage.
Perchance one may have touched against his will.
Many strange things may happen in long time.
These, when they come, in words have pitied me,
And given me food, or raiment, in compassion.
But none is willing, when I speak thereof,
To take me safely home. Wherefore I pine
Now this tenth year, in famine and distress,
Feeding the hunger of my ravenous plague.
Such deeds, my son, the Atridae, and the might
Of sage Odysseus, have performed on me.
Wherefore may all the Olympian gods, one day,
Plague them with stern requital for my wrong!
Methinks my feeling for thee, Poeas’ child,
Is like that of thy former visitants.
I, too, a witness to confirm his words,
Know them for verities, since I have found
320
The Atridae and Odysseus evil men.
There came to fetch me, in a gallant ship,
Odysseus and the fosterer of my sire,
Saying, whether soothly, or in idle show,
That, since my father perished, it was known
None else but I should take Troy’s citadel.
Such words from them, my friend, thou may’st believe,
Held me not long from making voyage with speed,
Chiefly through longing for my father’s corse,
To see him yet unburied,—for I ne’er
Had seen him. Then, besides, ’twas a fair cause,
If, by my going, I should vanquish Troy.
One day I had sailed, and on the second came
To sad Sigeum with wind-favoured speed,
When straightway all the host, surrounding me
As I set foot on shore, saluted me,
And swore the dead Achilles was in life,
Their eyes being witness, when they looked on me.
He lay there in his shroud: but I, unhappy,
Soon ending lamentation for the dead,
Went near to those Atridae, as to friends,
To obtain my father’s armour and all else
That had been his. And then,—alas the while,
That men should be so hard!—they spake this word:
‘Seed of Achilles, thou may’st freely take
All else thy father owned, but for those arms,
Another wields them now, Laërtes’ son.’
Tears rushed into mine eyes, and in hot wrath
I straightway rose, and bitterly outspake:
‘O miscreant! What? And have ye dared to give
Mine arms to some man else, unknown to me?’
Then said Odysseus, for he chanced to be near,
‘Yea, child, and justly have they given me these.
345
I saved them and their master in the field.’
345
Then in fierce anger all at once I launched
345
All terms of execration at his head,
345
Bating no word, being maddened by the thought
345
That I should lose this heirloom,—and to him!
345
He, at this pass, though not of wrathful mood,
345
Stung by such utterance, made rejoinder thus:
345
‘Thou wast not with us here, but wrongfully
345
Didst bide afar. And, since thou mak’st so bold,
345
I tell thee, never shalt thou, as thou sayest,
345
Sail with these arms to Scyros.’—Thus reviled,
345
With such an evil echo in mine ear,
345
I voyage homeward, robbed of mine own right
345
By that vile offset of an evil tree.
345
Yet less I blame him than the men in power.
345
For every multitude, be it army or state,
Takes tone from those who rule it, and all taint
Of disobedience from bad counsel springs.
I have spoken. May the Atridae’s enemy
Be dear to Heaven, as he is loved by me!
Mother of mightiest Zeus,
Feeder of all that live,
Who from thy mountainous breast
Rivers of gold dost give!
To thee, O Earth, I cried that shameful day,
When insolence from Atreus’ sons went forth
Full on our lord: when they bestowed away
His father’s arms to crown Odysseus’ worth;
Thou, whom bull-slaughtering lions yoked bear,
O mighty mother, hear!
Your coming is commended by a grief
That makes you kindly welcome. For I feel
A chord that vibrates to your voice, and tells,
400
Thus have Odysseus and the Atridae wrought.
Full well I know, Odysseus’ poisoned tongue
Shrinks from no mischief nor no guileful word
That leads to bad achievement in the end.
This moves not my main marvel, but if one
Saw this and bore it,—Aias of the shield.
405
Whom but Odysseus canst thou mean by this?
Now, by thy father, by thy mother,—nay,
465
By all thy love e’er cherished in thy home,
465
Suppliant I beg thee, leave me not thus lone,
465
Forlorn in all my misery which thou seest,
465
In all thou hast heard of here surrounding me!
Stow me with other freightage. Full of care,
I know, and burdensome the charge may prove.
Yet venture! Surely to the noble mind
All shame is hateful and all kindness blest.
And shame would be thy meed, didst thou fail here
But, doing this, thou shalt have glorious fame,
When I return alive to Oeta’s vale.
Come, ’tis the labour not of one whole day.
So thou durst take me, fling me where thou wilt
O’ the ship, in hold, prow, stern, or wheresoe’er
I least may trouble those on board with me.
Ah! by great Zeus, the suppliant’s friend, comply,
My son, be softened! See, where I am fall’n
Thus on my knees before thee, though so weak,
470
Crippled and powerless. Ah! forsake me not
470
Thus far from human footstep. Take me, take me!
470
If only to thy home, or to the town
470
Of old Chalcodon in Euboea.—From thence
I have not far to Oeta, and the ridge
Of Trachis, and Spercheius’ lordly flood.
So thou shalt bless my father with my sight.
And yet long since I fear he may be gone.
For oft I sent him suppliant prayers by men
Who touched this isle, entreating him to fetch
And bear me safely home with his own crew.
But either he is dead, or else, methinks,
It well may be, my messengers made light
Of my concerns, and hastened onward home.
But now in thee I find both messenger
And convoy, thou wilt pity me and save.
For, well thou knowest, danger never sleeps,
And fear of dark reverse is always nigh.
475
Mortals, when free, should look where mischief lurks,
475
And in their happiest hour consider well
475
Their life, lest ruin unsuspected come.
475
Pity him, O my king!
Many a crushing woe
He telleth, such as I pray
None of my friends may know.
And if, dear master, thou mislikest sore
Yon cruel-hearted lordly pair, I would,
Turning their plan of evil to his good,
On swift ship bear him to his native shore,
Meeting his heart’s desire; and free thy path
From fear of heavenly wrath.
Thou mak’st small scruple here; but be advised:
Lest, when this plague on board shall weary thee,
Thy voice should alter from this liberal tone.
No, truly! Fear not thou shalt ever have
Just cause to utter such reproach on me.
Then sure ’twere shame, should I more backward prove
Than thou, to labour for the stranger’s need.
Come, if thou wilt, let us make voyage, and he,
Let him set forth with speed. Our ship shall take him.
520
He shall not be refused. Only may Heaven
Lead safely hence and to our destined port!
Well, stranger, for the kindness thou hast shown,—
550
Else were I base,—my heart must thank thee still.
But tell me what thou meanest, that I may learn
What new-laid plot thou bring’st me from the camp.
Then hear me. These two men whom I have named,
Diomedes and Odysseus, are set forth
Engaged on oath to bring this man by force
595
If reasons fail. The Achaeans every one
Have heard this plainly from Odysseus’ mouth.
He was the louder and more confident.
Is not this terrible, Laërtes’ son
630
Should ever think to bring me with soft words
630
And show me from his deck to all their host?
No! Sooner will I listen to the tongue
Of the curs’d basilisk that thus hath maim’d me.
Ay, but he’ll venture anything in word
Or deed. And now I know he will be here.
Come, O my son, let us be gone, while seas
And winds divide us from Odysseus’ ship.
635
Let us depart. Sure timely haste brings rest
635
And quiet slumber when the toil is done.
German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review) (OCR draft) Experimental (German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review)) — 219 focus
Weh, Fremdlinge!
Weh mir, dem vielgequälten, gottverhaßten Mann,
Von dessen Leide nicht ein Ruf nach Hause, noch
Sonst irgend hin gedrungen im Hellenenland!
250
Und jene, die mich frevelnd ausgeworfen hier,
Hohulachen mein im Stillen: doch in voller Kraft
Blüht meine Krankheit, und gewinnt an Stärke ſtets.
Kind, Achillens, eines edlen Vaters, Sohn!
Ich, wisse, bin derselbe, den dir wohl der Ruf
255
Als den genannt hat, der Herakles' Wehr empfing,
Bin Philoktetes, Pöas' Sohn, den jene zwei
Heerfürsten und der Kephallenenkönig einst 2
Schmachvoll in diese Wüste warfen, weil an ihm
Die grimme Krankheit zehrte, seit der wilde Biß
260
Der mordbewehrten Natter ihn verwundete.
Mit ihr, o Jüngling, haben sie mich ausgesezt,
Mich einsam hier gelassen, als der Schiffe Zug
Von Chryse's Meereilande sich hieher gewandt.
Da froh gewahrend, wie ich matt vom Meergetos
265
Am Strande schlief im wohlgewölbten Felsenhaus,
Entfloh'n sie treulos, ließen wenig Lumpen mir,
Wie einem Bettler, und der Kost armseligen
Bedarf zurück: o werde Gleiches ihnen auch!
Doch welch Erwachen dünkt es dir, zu welchem ich
270
Nach ihrem Abzug aus dem Schlaf erstand, o Kind?
Wie bitter weint' ich? Wie beklagt' ich meine Noth?
Ich sah die Schiffe, welche mich hieher geführt,
All' abgezogen, keinen Mann am Orte mehr,
Nicht Einen, der mir hülse, der mich Leidenden
275
In meiner Qual erquickte: ringsum späht' ich nach;
Doch nichts entdeckt' ich überall, als Sammer nur;
Und dessen fand ich eine große Fülle, Kind.
Die Tage floh'n mir, einer nach dem andern, hin;
Ich mußt' allein hier unter diesem engen Dach
280
Mich selbst bedienen. Für den Hunger schaffte zwar,
Was nöthig war, der Bogen, der die flüchtigen
Waldtauben mir erlegte; doch, traf mein Geschoß,
Der Sehn' entrauscht, die Beute, mußt' ich Armer selbst
Nachkriechen meinem Fange, selbst mühvoll den Fuß
285
Hinschleppen. Braucht' ich einen Trunk, war etwa Holz
Zu fällen, wann der Boden, wie zur Winterzeit,
Vom Eise starrte, kroch ich Armer fort, es selbst
In's Werk zu richten. Daun gebrach's an Feuer mir,
Und Stein an Steine rieb ich, und entlockte kaum
290
Den dort verschloss'nen Funken, der mich stets erhält.
Denn wohnlich durch das Fener, schafft die Hütte nun
Mir alle Nothdurft; nur Gesundheit schafft sie nicht.
Wohlan, o Sohu, jezt höre von der Insel auch.
Freiwillig mag kein Schiffer ihrem Strande nah'n;
295
Sie beut zur Landung keinen Ort, kein gastlich Haus,
Noch Pläze, wo der Handel ihm Gewinn verheißt.
Nie wendet hieher seine Fahrt ein kluger Mann.
Sie landen unfreiwillig wohl; denn solcher Art
Begiebt sich Manches auf des Lebens langer Bahu.
300
Und diese, wann sie kommen, Sohu, bedanern mid)
Zwar wohl mit Worten, reichen auch wohl Speise mir
Ein wenig oder ein Gewand erbarmenvoll:
Doch das, erwähn' ich's etwa, will mir Keiner thun,
Heimwärts mich retten; nein, in Noth und Hunger, ach!
305
Verkümmr' ich hier in dieses zehnte Jahr bereits,
Und unersättlich zehrt an mir die Wunde fort.
Dies thaten Atreus' Söhne mir, o Jüngling, an,
Dies that Odysseus: mögen einst Olympos' Herrn
Vergeltend ihnen lohnen, was sie mir gethan!
310
Auch ich beklage billig, Sohn des Pöas, dich
Gleich jenen Fremden, welche hier gelandet sind.
Um mich zu holen, kam Laertes' edler Sohn
Und meines Vaters Pfleger an auf buntem Schiff;
Sie sagten, ob wahrhaftig oder ohne Grund,
Unmöglich sei es, daß ein Andrer Pergamos, 4
340
Als ich, erob're, nun dahin mein Vater sei.
Und also redend, stimmten sie mich bald dahin,
O Fremdling, daß ich ungesäumt zu Schiffe ging,
Sehnsüchtig wünschend, ihn zu seh'n, den Todten, eh
Man ihn begrübe; denn ich hatt' ihn nie geseh'n:
345
Daun trieb mich auch des Ruhmes stolzes Wort hinaus,
Wenn ich die Zinnen Ilions erobere.
Die zweite Sonne glänzte schon auf meiner Fahrt,
Und an Sigeions Trauerport trieb heller Wind 5
Mein Segel; schnell umringte mich das ganze Heer,
350
Sobald ich ausstieg, grüßte, schwur, des Thetis Sohn,
Der Todte, stehe neubelebt vor ihrem Blick.
Der lag noch unbestattet dort; ich Armer ging,
Nachdem ich ihn betrauert, schnell den Freunden zu,
Den Söhnen Atreus', und erbat, wie's billig war,
355
Mir meines Vaters Waffen und sein andres Gut.
Doch jene, weh mir! sagten dies verweg'ne Wort:
„O Sohn Achillens, alles Andre magst du dir
Von deinem Vater nehmen; doch das Wehrgeräth
Nennt schon ein andrer Krieger sein, Laertes' Sohu."
360
Und ich, in Thränen schwimmend, sprang alsbald empor
In schwerem Unmuth, und erwiedre schmerzerfüllt :
„Ihr wagtet, Freche, meine Wehr an meiner Statt
Iemanden auszuliefern, eh ihr mich gefragt?"
Da rief Odysseus, denn er stand nicht fern von uns:
365
„Sa, Knabe, mir, mir gaben sie mit Recht die Wehr;
Denn ich entriß die Waffen und ihn selbst dem Feind." 6
Und ich, erzürnt, rief alle nur erdenkbaren
Schmachworte, jeden Nachefluch auf sie herab,
Wenn jener mir entreiße meinen Waffeuschmuck.
370
Er, sonst zum Zorne langsam, fand durch solches Wort
Sich schwer getroffen, daß er stolz entgegnete:
„Du standest, wo wir standen, nicht, bliebst seig daheim;
Und weil du so voll Trozes sprichst, erklär' ich dir:
Mit diesen Waffen sollst du nie gen Skyros zieh'n!"
375
Nach solcher Antwort, so geschmäht auf's Bitterste,
Segl' ich nach Hause, meines Eigenthums beraubt
Vom schlimmsten Kinde schlimmer Art, Laertes' Sohn. 7
Doch diesen klag' ich minder als die Herrscher an.
Denn Stadt und Heer, sie folgen beide ganz und gar
380
Den Worten ihrer Führer; wer das Schlechte liebt,
Wird durch des Meisters Lehre nur ein Bösewicht.
Nun sagt' ich Alles. Wer des Atreus Söhne haßt,
Der sei so lieb den Göttern, wie er mir es ist!
Strophe.
Bergmutter, Erd', Alnährerin, welcher Zeus selbst entsproß, 8
385
Die waltet bei Paktolos' großem, goldnem Strom!
Schon dort, hehre Mutter, dort rief ich zu dir,
Da schmachvollen Hohn ihm des Atreus Geschlecht bot,
Da sie des Vaters Wehr ihm an Laertes' Sohn
Hingaben, als des Ruhms höchsten Preis,
390
du Sel'ge, die auf Berglöwen hoch,
Den Stierwürgern, thront!
Ich sehe wohl, o Freunde, mit dem deutlichen
Merkmal des Schmerzes kommt ihr hergeschifft zu mir;
Zu meinem Lied stimmt eures; so erkenn' ich klar:
395
Das ist Odysseus' und der Atreussöhne Werk.
Der leiht ja seine Zunge, wie ich's wohl erfuhr,
Zu jedem Trug, zu jeder argen Tücke, daß
Er Nichts am Ende schaffen mag, was edel ist.
Doch wundert das mich minder, als daß Ajas auch,
400
Der größ're, solches ruhig anzuseh'n ertrug. 9
Nicht diesen meint' ich; nein, Thersites hieß ein Mann, 14
Dem's nie genug war, Einmal nur zu sagen, was
Ungern gehört ward: weißt du nicht, ob dieser lebt?
Bei deinem Vater, bei der Mutter, liebes Kind,
Und allem Andern, was daheim dir theuer ist,
Beschwör' ich dich und flehe, laß nicht so allein,
460
Hülflos in meinem Leide mich, das, wie du siehst,
Und wie du hörtest, grauenvoll mich hier umringt:
Als Nebenlast nur nimm mich! Zwar, ich weiß es wohl,
Vielfach beschwerlich wird dir solche Bürde sein;
Doch wag' es muthvoll! Hochgesinnte finden nur
465
Das Edle rühmlich, hassenswerth das Schändliche.
Dir, Jüngling, bringt es keinen Nuhm, versagst du mir's;
Und thust du's, ist der höchste Lohn der Ehre dein,
Wenn lebend heim ich kehre nach dem Detaland.
Auf! Keines vollen Tages Frist währt solche Noth:
470
So wag' es, nimm und wirf mich hin, wo dir's gefällt,
In den Bauch des Schiffes, hinten oder vorne, wo
Ich euch, die Fahrtgenossen, nicht belästige.
Bei Zeus, dem Gott der Fleh'nden, Sohn, gewähre mir's,
Erhöre mich! An deine Kniee sink' ich hier,
475
Ich Armer, wenn auch schwach und lahm; o laß mich nicht
In solcher Dede, die der Menschen Tritte flieh'n!
Zu deiner Heimat rette mich, ach, oder hin
In's reiche Land Euböa, wo Chalkodon herrscht. 16
Von dort zum Deta führte mich kein weiter Weg,
480
Zu Trachis' Hügeln und dem stolzhinrollenden 17
Spercheios: wieder bringe mich dem Vater dort,
Um den die Sorge lange schon mich quält, er sei
Dahingegangen. Alle, die hier landeten,
Hab' ich mit heißen Bitten oft an ihn gesandt,
485
Selbst herzusegeln und mich heim zu retten: doch
Er ist gestorben, oder meine Boten sind,
So muß ich leider glauben, weil sie meine Noth
Für klein geachtet, ihrer Heimat zugeschifft.
Nun fleh' ich, sei du Bote, sei du Führer mir,
490
Erbarm dich meiner, rette mich; du siehest ja,
Wie drohend Alles, voll Gefahr, der Menschen Pfad
Umlagert, hier das Ungemach und dort das Glück.
Wer frei von Leid ist, blicke fürchtend auf das Leid,
Und wer das Glück hat, schaue frei mit wachem Blick
495
In's Leben, daß nicht ungeahnt der Fluch ihn trifft.
Gegenstrophe.
Erbarmen, Herr! Vielfachen Kampf, herbe Noth klagt er uns,
Wie keinen unsrer Freunde je sie treffen soll!
Hassest du, Herr, Atreus' feindlich Geschlecht so sehr,
So würd' ich das Unheil, das Werk ihres Frevels,
500
Wandeln in Heil ihm, führt' in schnellsegelndem,
Geschmücktem Schiff zu dem ersehnten Port
Der Heimat ihn hin, flöhe den Nachefluch,
Der von den Göttern droht.
Sieh, daß du jezt nicht allzuleicht dich willig zeigst,
505
Und, wann der Krankheit Nähe dich mit Ekel füllt,
Nicht als derselbe mehr erscheinst, der dieses sprach.
Für diese Sorgfalt wartet dein liebreicher Dank,
O Freund, so wahr ich edel bin von edler Art.
Doch sage, was du meintest; denn ich wüßte gern,
545
Welch neuen Anschlag über mich das Heer gefaßt.
Nun gut! Nach dem zieh'n Beide, die ich dir genannt,
Der Sohn des Tydeus und Odysseus' Kraft, hinaus;
Sie schwuren, ihn zu bringen, sei's mit klugem Wort
Ihn überredend, oder durch der Stärke Macht.
580
Und deutlich hörten aus Odysseus' Munde dies
Die Wehrgenossen alle; denn er hatte mehr
Vertrau'n, die That zu wagen, als der Andere.
Ist das, o Kind, nicht schrecklich, daß Laertes' Sohn
In's Schiff mit glatten Worten mich zu locken hofft,
615
Mich dort zur Schau zu stellen vor dem ganzen Heer?
Nein! Wahrlich eher hört' ich auf das feindliche
Scheusal, die Natter, die des Fußes mich beraubt.
Doch Alles sagen darf der Mann, darf Alles sich
Erdreisten: jezt auch weiß ich, daß er kommen wird.
620
So laß, o Sohn, uns eilen, daß wir weit hinweg
Von seinem Schiffe durch das Meer geschieden sind.
Auf denn von hinnen! Eilen wir bei guter Zeit,
Wird nach der Arbeit Schlummer uns und süße Rast.
(ab.)
English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759)) — 219 focus
Say, welcome stmngers, what disastrous
fate
Led you to this inhospitable shore,
220
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
225
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,
230
For this at least from man to man is due.
Alas ! how hateful to the gods,
How very poor a wretch must 1 be then,
That Greece should never hear of woes like mine !
But they who sent me hither, they concealed them,
And smile triumphant, whilst my cruel wounds
Grow deeper still. O, sprung from great Achilles !
Behold before thee Psean's wretched son,
255
With whom, a chance but thou hast heard, remain
255
The dreadful arrows of renowned Alcides,
255
Whom the Atridse and the vile Ulysses
255
Inhuman left, distempered as I was
255
By the envenomed serpent's deep-felt wound.
255
Soon as they saw that, with long toil oppressed.
Sleep had o'ertaken me on the hollow rock.
There did they leave me when from Chrysa's shore
They bent their fatal course ; a little food
And these few rags were all they would bestow.
Such one day be their fate ! Alas ! my son.
How dreadful, thinkst thou, was that waking to me,
When from my sleep I rose and saw them not !
How did I weep ! and mourn my wretched state !
When not a ship remained of all the fleet
That brought me here — no kind companion left
To minister or needful food or balm
To my sad wounds. On every side I looked,
And nothing saw but woe ; of that indeed
Measure too fuU. For day succeeded day.
And still no comfort came ; myself alone
Could to myself the means of life afford,
In this poor grotto. On my bow I lived :
The winged dove, which my sharp arrow slew,
With pain I brought into my little hut,
And feasted there ; then from the broken ico
1 slaked my thirst, or crept into the woocl
For useful fuel ; from the stricken flint
I drew the latent spark, that warms me still
And still revives. This with my humble roof
Preserve me, son. But, oh ! my wounds remain.
Thou seest an island desolate and waste ;
No friendly port nor hopes of gain to tenjpt,
Nor host to welcome in the traveller ;
Few seek the wild inhospitable shore.
By adverse winds, sometimes th' unwilling guests,
As well thou mayst suppose, were hither driven ;
But when they came, they only pitied me.
Gave me a little food, or better garb
To shield me from the cold ; in vain 1 prayed
That they would bear me to my native soil,
For none would listen. Here for ten long years
Have 1 remained, whilst misery and famine
Keep fresh my wounds, and double my misfortune.
This have th' Atridae and Ulysses done.
And may the gods with equal woes repay them !
And saw thee thus, in kind compassion weep ;
I too must pity thee — I can no more.
I can bear witness to thee, for I know
By sad experience what th' Atridae are,
And what Ulysses.
335
I will tell thee all,
If I can bear to tell it. Know then, soon
As great Achilles died
Oh, stay, my son !
Is then Achilles dead?
He too was dead.
In war, alas — so fate ordains it ever —
The coward 'scapes, the brave and virtuous fall.
And the Atridse will I live remote.
I would not see the man I cannot love.
My barren Scyros shall afford me refuge,
And home-felt joys delight my future days.
So, fare thee well, and may th' indulgent gods
no
Heal thy sad wound, and grant thee every wish
Thy soul can form ! Once more, farewell ! I go,
The first propitious gale.
PjiiL. What ! now, my son ?
520
So soon?
Meg. Immediately; the time demands
Wo should be near, and ready to depart.
Now, by the memory of thy lionoured sire,
465
By thy loved mother, ])y whate'er remains
465
On earth most dear to thee, oh ! hear me now.
465
Thy suppliant ! Do not, do not thus forsake me,
Alone, oppressed, deserted, as thou seest.
In this sad place. I shall, I know it must, be
A burthen to thee. But, oh ! bear it kindly \
For ever doth the noble mind abhor
Th' ungenerous deed, and loves humanity ;
Disgrace attends thee if thou dost forsake me.
If not, immortal fame rewards thy goodness.
Thou mayst convey me safe to CEta's shores
In one short day ; I'll trouble you no longer.
470
Hide mo in any part where I may least
470
Molest you. Hear me ! By the guardian god
470
Of the poor suppliant, all protecting Jove,
I beg. Behold me at thy feet, infirm,
And wretched as I am, I clasp thy knees.
Leave me not here then, where there is no mark
Of human footstep — take me to thy home !
Or to Eubooa's port, to CEta, thence
Of Sperchius' gentle stream, to meet my father,
If yet he lives ; for, oh ! I begged him oft
By those who hither came, to fetch me hence —
Or is he dead, or they neglectful bent
475
Their hasty course to their own native soil.
475
Be thou my better guide ! Pity and save
The poor and wretched. Think, my son, how frail
And full of danger is the state of man —
Now prosperous, now adverse. Who feels no ills
Should therefore fear them ; and when fortune smiles
Be doubly cautious, lest destruction come
Remorseless on him, and he fall unpitied.
Oh, pity him, my lord, for bitterest woes
And trials most severe he hath recounted ;
Far be such sad distress from those I love !
505
Oh ! if thou hat'st the base Atridae, now
Revenge thee on them, serve their deadliest foe ;
Bear the poor suppliant to his native soil ;
So shalt thou bless thy friend, and 'scape the wrath
Of the just gods, who still protect the wretched.
Ned. Your proffered kindness, friends, may cost you
dear ;
510
When you shall feel his dreadful malady
510
Oppress you sore, you will repent it.
Never
515
Shall that reproach be ours.
515
Ned. In generous pity
515
Of the afflicted thus to be o'ercome
515
Were most disgraceful to me ; he shall go.
May the kind gods speed our departure hence,
And guide our vessels to the wished-for shore !
Son of great Acliilles,
535
Know, chance alone hath brought me hither, driven
535
By adverse winds to where thy vessels lay,
As home I sailed from Troy. There did I meet
This my companion, who informed me where
Thou mightst be found. Hence to pursue my course
And not to tell thee what concerns thee near
Had been ungenerous, thou perhaps meantime
540
Of Greece and of her counsels naught suspecting.
540
Counsels against thee not by threats alone
Or words enforced, but now in execution.
555
Since I must then, know,
In solemn league combined, the bold Ulysses
And gallant Diomede have sworn by force
595
Or by persuasion to bring back thy friend :
The Grecians heard Laertes' son declare
His purpose ; far more resolute he seemed
Than Diomede, and surer of success.
Lead me — expose me to the Grecian host !
630
And could the insolent Ulysses hope
630
With his soft flatteries e'er to conquer me \
No ! Sooner would 1 listen to the voice
Of that fell serpent, whose envenomed tongue
Hath lamed me thus. But what is there he dare not
Or say or do ? I know he will be here
E'en now, depend on't. Therefore, let's away !
Quick let the sea divide us from Ulysses.
Let us be gone ; for well-timed expedition,
The task performed, brings safety and repose.
635
Ned. Soon {\s the wind permits us we embark,
635
But now 'tis adverse.
English (Robert Potter, 1788) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Robert Potter, 1788)) — 219 focus
Strangers, who are you that have steer'd your bark
To this rude coast, which knows not friendly port,
220
Nor habitation? What your country say;
Of what race may I speak you? for your garb
Presents the modes of Greece, to me most dear.
I wish to hear your voice. Nay, do not look
With fear and horror at this savage form,
But pity me, a poor forsaken wretch,
Alone, and friendless, and oppress'd with ills.
Speak to me, if you come as friends, O speak;
This I should not refuse; refuse not you.
Oh what a wretch am. I, and to the gods
How hateful, that no tidings of my woes ..
Have reach'd my house, nor any realm of Greece!
While they whose impious arts exposed me here,
Deride me, and conceal the barbarous deed,
My wound still rankling, and my pains more fierce.
Know then, thou son of an illustrious sire,
Son of Achilles, I am he, whose name
Widely divulged perchance hath reach'd thine ears,
Lord of the arms of Hercules, the son
Of Poœas, Philoctetes; whom the Chiefs,
And Cephallene's king, here basely left
An outcast, and alone, with dire disease...
Consumed, and tortured with this gnawing wound
By the fell serpent's venom'd tooth impress'd.
In this ill plight they left me here alone, "
From Chryse when on this wild coast we touch'd...
As wearied with the tossing of the waves.........
They saw me sleeping on the shore, beneath
This rock's rude covering, with malignant joy
They left me, and sail'd hence, a few mean rågs,
Meet for a wretch like me, beside me laid,
And food, a scanty pittance; such be theirs!
255
Think from that sleep, my son, how I awoke
255
When they were gone; think on my tears, my groans,
255
Such ills lamenting, when I saw my ships,
255
With which I hither sail'd, all out at sea,
255
And steering hence; no mortal in the place,
255
Not one to succour me, not one to lend
255
His lenient hand to mitigate my wound..
255
On every side I roll'd my eyes, and saw
255
Nothing but wretchedness; of that enough....
255
Time after time roll’d on; this narrow cave
255
I made my mansion, and these hands alone!
255
Supplied my wants; my bow procured me food,
255
Piercing the doves on wing; beneath my shafts!
255
Whene'er they fell, I trail'd my foot along
255
In anguish; so when thirst compell'd me forth,
255
Or the inclement winter's piercing frost
255
To break a few dry sticks, out crawl'd this wretch
255
Devising shifts: fire was not here; I struck
255
Flint against flint, and raised the latent sparks
255
With pain: thus cherish'd life hath been preserved.
255
This sheltering mansion, with such cheering fire,
255
Hath furnish'd me with all things, but a cure 1.
To my disease. Now learn from me the state
Of this rude isle: no mariner through choice
Adventures on this coast; for no safe port,
Receives his bark, no mart is open here
For traffic, and no hospitable door
To give him welcome; to these shores his course..
No wise man steers; some in a length of time,
Which rolls along events surpassing thought,
Have been driv'n hither; these, my son, when here,
In words have pitied me: nay, they have giv'n,
Touch'd with compassion, some small share of food,
Some raiment; but entreaties all were vain,
Not one, though oft I urged the fond request,
Would bear me to my household gods, and save
This life; the tenth sad year now rolls its course,
Since here with wretchedness and famine pierced
I waste away, and feed my rankling wound.
These wrongs from the Atridæ I sustain,
And from Ulysses, whose unfeeling heart
Ne'er knew the touch of pity: on their heads
May the just gods pour miseries great as mine!
Like others, who have visited this isle,
I too, O son of Peas, pity thee.
In a tall bark with all her sails unfurl'd
The great Ulysses, and the sage who train'd
May father's youth, came to me, and declared
(The truth yet doubtful) that, my father dead,
No arm but mine could raze the tow'rs of Troy.
I heard them, nor detain'd them long, but soon
Mounted the bark; for ardent my desire
To see the dead, whom I had never seen,
Ere in the earth entomb'd: their plea besides
Had honour in it, that the tow'rs of Troy
Should, if I join'd them, fall beneath my arm.
One day our vessel plough'd the foaming main,
And on the second with a favouring gale
I reach'd Sigæum, scene of bitter woe.
Soon as I landed, all the army round
Enclosing me with salutations greet,
And swear they see Achilles, now no more,
Living again; but he was stretch'd in death.
O'er him in all the anguish of my grief
I shed the pious tears; nor mourn'd him long,
But hasted to th' Atridæ, as my friends,
For such I deem'd them, and my father's arms
Demanded, and besides whateʼer was his.
In words that pierced my heart they thus replied,
Son of Achilles, thine be all the stores,
The treasures of thy father, save his arms;
Of these another now is lord, the son
Of old Laertes. Strait the swelling tear
345
Burst from my eye; and roused to ardent rage
345
Indignant I replied, Have you then dared,
345
Injurious men, to give my arms away,
345
My leave not ask'd? Ulysses, who was nigh,
345
Address'd me thus, To me, young man, these arms
345
With justice they have giv'n, for from the foe
345
I saved them, and their slaughter'd lord. Incensed
345
I pour'd a torrent of reproachful words
345
Against him, should he bear my arms away.
345
Stung with my words, though train'd to curb his rage,
345
Thus far to rising passion he gave way,
345
Thou wast not where we were, but distant far
345
From danger and from glory: but these arms,
Since in so high a strain thy tongue breaks loose,
To Scyros sailing never shalt thou bear.i
Thus slighted, thus insulted, of my right,
Robb'd by the vile Ulysses, of a race
As vile descended, I to Scyros steer
My homeward course; yet less with him enraged
Than with the potent kings; for every state,
And every army from their Chiefs are form'd.
And they, who mock at honour's dictates, learn
Their baseness from their lords. Thou hast heard all:
But know, whoe'er the sons of Atreus hates,
Must be to me, and to the gods, most dear.
Thou all-sustaining parent, mighty queen,
Delighting in the mountain's wood-crown'd height,
Mother of Jove, who feed'st the golden stream
Of rich Pactolus, pow'r revered, to thee
My vows I then address'd, when all these wrongs
Burst from the sons of Atreus, when they gave
395
His father's arms (O thou, whose car sublime,
Blest as thou art, bull-rending lions draw!) :
To grace Ulysses, an illustrious prize.
With marks of grief imprinted deep, I ween,
Strangers, to me you steer'd your course, with mine
Your voice according; for, with me, the sons
400
Of Atreus, and Ulysses you have felt :
These are their deeds: I know him well; his tongue
To subtile blandishment and wicked guile
Is always smooth'd, whence nothing just was e'er
Brought to effect. I marvel not at this,
But much, if this the greater Ajax saw,
How his high soul such deeds of baseness brook'd.
405
Of other than Ulysses dost thou speak?
Now by thy father's honour'd shade, my son,
465
And by thy mother, by whate'er thy house.
465
Holds dear to thee, thy suppliant I implore
465
Thy pity, do not leave me thus alone,
Abandon'd in these ills, which now thou seest,
And with which thou hast heard I long have had
My dwelling here. Receive me in thy bark,
Allow me there a place; this freight, I know;
Will be offensive; yet disdain it not:
Whate'er is base the noble mind abhors,
But glories in the kind and generous deed.
Not to perform this kindness were reproach.
To thee, and shame; but granting my request,
High honour waits thee. If I reach alive
The land of Eta, I shall burden thee
Not one whole day; refuse not my request;
470
Throw me where'er thou wilt, into the hold,
470
The prow, the stern, where least I may annoy!".
470
The mariners; assent, my son, by Jove
Protector of the suppliant, grant my pray'r.
Infirm, and lame, and wretched as I am,
Low at thy knees I fall; forsake me not
Far from the haunt of men abandon'd thus
But save me, bear me to thy friendly shore,
Or to Chalcodon's ports that deep indenti
Euboœa; thence the passage is not long
To Eta, and to Trachin's rocky heights,
And to Sperchius, beauteous-rolling stream.
Show me to my loved father; yet long since
The tomb, I fear, received him; for to those,
Who reach'd this coast, I oft gave charge, and oft
475
Sent my request that he would speed a bark.
475
To bear me hence in safety to my home.
475
But he is dead, or they perchance, (for this
Might be expected) on whose promised aid
I built my hopes, of my disastrous state
Made small account, and steer'd their onward course
To their own ports. But now I come to thee
To bear my message, nay, to bear me hence. 1.
Save me, have pity on me; for thou seest.
The dangers, and the horrible events
Have pity on him, king; for he hath told
Of hard encounters with severest toils
Beyond man's sufferance: ne'er may one I love
505
Endure the like! And if, O king, thou hate
The stern Atridæ, I would turn their ill
To his great good; and since his wish is urged
So strongly, in my swift well-furnish'd bark
Convey him to his mansion, and avoid
510
The righteous vengeance of th' offended gods..
Take heed lest now too gentle be thy mind,
But when, embark'd together, his diseasejut
Long time annoys thee, other be thy thoughts.
If such thy judgment: let him come with speed;
O welcome day! Most courteous thou of men!
And you, ye friendly mariners, what thanks
Can I return you? With what words express
The gratitude that glows within my heart?...
But let us go, my son, and pay within "
A farewell greeting to this cheerless cave,id
525
Dwelling unmeet for man; that thou may'st know
525
Where I have lived, and what I have sustain'd
With a firm heart: the sight alone, I think,
Horror on others must impress; but me
Necessity hath taught to love e'en this.
In grateful memory, stranger, I shall hold
Thy kind concern for me, else 1 were base.”
What thou hast hinted speak at large, 'gainst me
The councils by the Grecians lately form'd.
Behoves thee, since to me thou comest a friend,
Nought, which a friend can tell us, to conceal.T
MERC. See what thou dost.
That long hath been my care
MERC. On thee I charge the blame.
595
Charge it, but speak
595
MERC. Then I will speak. Against this man the son I
Of Tydeus, and the stern Ulysses speed
Their sails; their purpose ratified by oath
By soft persuasion or compulsive force
To bring him back: this all the Grecians heard-
Ulysses speak aloud; for bolder hoperidoli
Was his, and firm assurance of successo di
What, hath this vile accurs'd deceiver sworn
To show me to the Grecians? Were I dead,
Then might persuasion bring me from the realms
Of Pluto, like his father, back to light.
Is not this strange? What, dares Ulysses hope:
630
With soothing words to win me to embark
630
With him, and trail me through the Grecian camp
Aspectacle! No: rather would I hear
The serpent, from whose venom'd tooth my foot
Received this wound. But he dares speak and act
Whate'er is base. I know that he will come;
Let us then hence; with all its, broad expanse
Let the sea roll between his bark and us.
635
Let us begone: for well-timed speed (the toil
635
Surmounted) brings the calm of sweet repose.
English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904)) — 219-390 focus

Notes on the current edition

Philoctetes

1. [irreg. for
ποιήσει
poih/s1ei
‐σοι
-s1oi