AI. Child of Laërtes old,II 2
Thou that dost still behold
And still contrive all shapes of monstrous ill,
Winding in foulest ways
Through the army’s sinful maze,—
Now even for pleasure thou may’st laugh thy fill.
CH. Laughter and tears are in the gift of God.
AI. Ay, might I see him, though thus broken,—ay me!
Even yet—
CH. Nay, vaunt not. Look where thou art fallen.
AI. Source where my life-blood springs,
O Zeus, might I but slay
That crafty plague, with those twin-sceptred kings,
Then breathe my life away!
TEC. Pray thus, and pray that I too be no more!
If thou wert gone, what were my life to me?
AI. Darkness! my only light!III 1
O nether gloom, to me
Brighter than morning to the wakeful eye!
Take me to dwell with thee.
Take me! What help? Zeus’ daughter with fell might
Torments me sore. I may not look on high,
Nor to the tribe of momentary men.—
Oh, whither, then,
Should it avail to fly?
Ah! whither should I go and stay?
All here is ruin. This mad prey
Shames me for evermore:
Vengeance is at the door;
Yea, all the Achaean host, with armèd hand,
Is ready at command
To slay me o’er and o’er.
[page 55][410-447] TEC. Woe ’s me! to hear from one so good and true
Words he had scorned to utter in past days.
AI. Grey firths of foaming brine,III 2 And ye, deep groves, that crown
The sea-caves and long cliffs upon the shore,
Too long did ye confine
My life about the walls of Troia’s town:
But no more now! a breathing man, no more!
The wise in heart may duly learn that lore.
Let Xanthus know,
Whose waters neighbouring flow,
And minister to Argive men:
One man he ne’er shall see again;
One, I will vaunt it forth!
Highest in warlike worth
Of all Greek forms that Troia’s towers have eyed:
Now, shorn of all that pride,
I lie thus low.
CH. I know not how to let thee speak, nor how
To silence thee. Such evils close thee round.