All irredeemable rascality,
But speed the righteous on their downward way.
What should I deem of this, how justify
The ways of Heaven, finding Heaven unjust?
For my part, son of an Oetean sire,
I shall take heed henceforward to behold
Troy and the two Atridae from afar.
Where villainy to goodness is preferred,
And virtue withers, and the base hold sway,
Such company I never will frequent.
Enough for me henceforth my native rocks,
My island home in Scyros; there I’ll bide.
Now to the ships. Farewell, a fond farewell,
O son of Poeas; may the gods fulfil
Thy heart’s desire and heal thee of thy wound!
Now we must leave thee and prepare to sail
Whene’er the gods shall send a favouring breeze.
So soon, my son, departing?
’Tis high time,
Not here, but from the strand to watch the tide.
Oh! in thy father’s, in thy mother’s name,
By all the sanctities of home, my son,
Leave me not, I adjure thee, here alone,
Abandoned to such ills as thou hast seen
And others worse whereof thou hast been told.
Think of me as a stowaway! well I know
The irksomeness of such a passenger.
Bear it! to true nobility of soul
All shame is shameful, honour honourable.
And it would smirch thine honour to decline
This task, my son; to do it, bring thee fame
And glory, if ye carry me alive
To Oeta. Come, ’tis but a day’s annoy.
Take heart of courage; stow me where thou wilt—
The hold, the bows, the stern, no matter where—
Wherever I shall least offend my mates.
By Zeus, the god of suppliants, O consent,
O hearken! at thy knees I fall, albeit
A cripple maimed and helpless. Leave me not
An outeast in a land where no man dwells;
But either take me safe to thine own home,
Or to Euboea and Chalcodon’s realm,
Whence I may cross to Oeta (’tis not far)
And the Trachinian passes and the stream
Of broad Spercheius, and behold once more
My father. Ah! these weary years I’ve feared
He must be dead, for messages full oft
I sent by those who passed my way, entreating
That he would fetch me in his own ship home.
But either he is dead, or, like enough,
My envoys (’tis the way of envoys) recked
Little of my concerns and hastened home.
But now to thee, my messenger at once
And saviour, I appeal; save, pity me,
Seeing upon how slippery a place
Fortune for mortals and misfortune stand.
Therefore the man that lives at ease should look
For rocks ahead, and when he prospers most
Watch lest he suffer shipwreck unawares.
Antistrophe
Pity, my chief!
Pity a tale of agonizing grief!
Pray God no friend
Of mine may ever come to such an end!
O pity him!
I know thou hatest, prince, the Atridae grim;
Turn to his gain
The villainy they plotted for his bane.
O take him home!
With him let our brave vessel cleave the foam;
There would he be;
Thus from the dread Avengers shall we flee.
See that your present kindliness be not
A passing mood, lest after, when ye come
In closer contact with his malady,
Ye falter and belie these promises.
No, I shall ne’er be open to such charge.
’Twere shame indeed should I less zealous prove
Than thou to help a stranger in his need.
So, if you please, we’ll sail; let him aboard;
Our ship methinks will not refuse her aid.
Only may heaven convey us from this shore
Safe to the haven whither we would sail!
O gladdest day, O dearest, dearest friend,
And ye, kind sailors, would that I could prove
By acts my heartfelt gratitude! My son,
Let us be going, but before I go
Salute this homeless home, that thou mayst learn
How hard my life, how great my hardihood.
I think scarce any other man than I,
Had he but seen it once, could have endured;
But I was schooled by hard necessity. Neoptolemus is about to enter the cave with him.
Stay, for I see two men approach, the one
A sailor from thy ship, and one a stranger.
First let us learn their errand, then go in.
Son of Achilles, finding I was moored
In the same roadstead as thyself (by chance
Not of intent), I asked thy shipmate here,
Who with two other hands was left aboard
On guard, to tell me where thou might’st be found.
For I, the captain of a single craft,
Was on my way from Ilium, homeward bound,
To Peparethus, for its vintage famed;
And learning that the crew I met ashore
Were all thy fellow-voyagers, I thought
It would be well, before I sailed away,
To have a word with thee and earn my dues.
I doubt thou knowest naught of thy concerns—
What new designs the Argives have upon thee:
Designs, say I? Nay rather, plots full hatched.
I shall remember, sir, thy zealous care
On my behalf; I am no graceless churl.
But tell me more precisely: let me learn
These strange designs against me of the Greeks.
Old Phoenix has embarked with Theseus’ sons
On a war galley in pursuit of thee.
To bring me back by force or of my will?
I know not; I report but what I heard.
Are Phoenix and his co-mates fired with zeal
To pleasure the Atridae? can this be?
’Tis no surmise of mine; they are on the way.
How came it that Odysseus had no mind
To sail on his own business? Was he afraid?
He and the son of Tydeus were engaged
In quest of yet another, when I sailed.
Another? Who this second man for whom
Odysseus sailed himself?
A certain one …
Stay, who is this beside thee? tell me first
His name, and breathe it softly in my ear.
This, sir, is Philoctetes of world fame.
Stop not for further questioning! Remove!
Fly with all speed thou mayest from this land.
What says he, boy? What does he whisper thee,
As though I were a piece of merchandise.
I know not yet, but he shall tell his tale
Aloud, for thee and me and these to hear.
Child of Achilles, charge me not to the host
For blabbing secrets. I’m a poor man and
Greatly beholden to the generals,
Who’ve paid me
