NEO. Thou seëst yon double doorway of his cell,
Poor habitation of the rock.
CH. 2. But tell
Where is the pain-worn wight himself abroad?
NEO. To me ’tis clear, that, in his quest for food,
[page 222][163-204] Here, not far off, he trails yon furrowed path.
For, so ’tis told, this mode the sufferer hath
Of sustenance, oh hardness! bringing low
Wild creatures with wing’d arrows from his bow;
Nor findeth healer for his troublous woe.
CH. I feel his misery.II 1
With no companion eye,
Far from all human care,
He pines with fell disease;
Each want he hourly sees
Awakening new despair.
How can he bear it still?
O cruel Heavens! O pain
Of that afflicted mortal train
Whose life sharp sorrows fill!
Born in a princely hall,II 2
Highest, perchance, of all,
Now lies he comfortless
Alone in deep distress,
’Mongst rough and dappled brutes,
With pangs and hunger worn;
While from far distance shoots,
On airy pinion borne,
The unbridled Echo, still replying
To his most bitter crying.
NEO. At nought of this I marvel—for if I
Judge rightly, there assailed him from on high
That former plague [through Chrysa’s cruel sting:]
And if to-day he suffer anything
With none to soothe, it must be from the will
Of some great God, so caring to fulfil
The word of prophecy, lest he should bend
On Troy the shaft no mortal may forfend,
Before the arrival of Troy’s destined hour,
When she must fall, o’er-mastered by their power.
CH. 1. Hush, my son!III 1
NEO. Why so?
CH. 1. A sound
Gendered of some mortal woe,
[page 223][205-237] Started from the neighbouring ground.
Here, or there? Ah! now I know.
Hark! ’tis the voice of one in pain,
Travelling hardly, the deep strain
Of human anguish, all too clear,
That smites my heart, that wounds mine ear.
CH. 2. From far it peals. But thou, my son!III 2