And did he reach us and arrive his goal?
At the tent door of the two chiefs he stood.
What then arrested him athirst for blood?
I, by the strong delusion that I sent,
A vision of the havoc he should make.
I turned his wrath aside upon the flocks
And the promiscuous cattle in the charge
Of drovers, booty not apportioned yet.
On them he fell and hewing right and left
Dealt death among the hornèd herd; and now
It was the two Atridae whom he slew,
And now a third, and now some other chief.
’Twas I that goaded him while thus distraught,
And thrust him deeper in the coils of fate.
Then pausing in this toil he turned to bind
The oxen left alive with all the sheep,
And drave them home, as if his spoil were men,
And not poor innocent beasts with hoofs and horns,
And now is mangling them fast bound within,
Thou too this raving madness shalt behold,
That thou mayst bruit the sight to all the Greeks.
Be of good heart and stand thy ground; no harm
Shall come from him, for I will turn aside
His vision, lest he should behold thy face.
Ho, thou that bind’st with cords behind their backs
Thy captives’ hands, ho Ajax, hear’st thou not?
I summon thee to come before the tent.
What dost thou, Goddess? Nowise call him forth.
Bridle thy tongue; earn not a coward’s name.
Nay, nay; suffice it that he bide within.
What fear’st thou? Is he not, as erst, a man?
Yea, and to me sworn foeman, and is still.
What mockery sweeter than to mock at foes?
Enough for me that he abide within.
What, fear to see a madman face to face?
I had not quailed to face him, were he sane.
Insane, he shall not see thee now, though near.
If he has eyes as erst, how can that be?
I will obscure his vision, howe’er clear.
Well, when a god works, all is possible.
Peace! stand thy ground and budge not from the spot.
So will I—yet had liefer been far hence.
To Ajax.
Ho, Ajax! once again I summon thee.
Say, why this scant regard for thine ally?
Hail O Athena, Zeus-born maiden, hail!
Thine aid how opportune! for this I’ll crown
Thy shrine with votive spoils of purest gold.
Fair words; but tell me, hast thou well imbrued
Thy sword with carnage of the Argive host?
A glorious deed that I will not disclaim.
Haply thou has assailed the Atridae too?
So that they ne’er will outrage Ajax more.
If I interpret rightly, they are dead.
Both dead; now let them cheat me of my arms!
Good; and how fares it with Laertes’ son?
How hast thou left him? or has he escaped?
He! That sly fox—wouldst know what’s come of him?
Of him—Odysseus, thy antagonist.
A welcome guest he sits within, fast bound.
I have no mind that he should die as yet.
What would’st thou first? what further profit win?
I’ll bind him to a pillar of my tent.
What vengeance wilt thou wreak on the poor wretch?
Flay with my scourge his back before he die.
O torture not the wretch so savagely.
In all but this, Athena, have thy will;
This and none else, must be his punishment.
Well, since it is thy pleasure, be it so:
Lay on, abate no jot of thine intent.
I will to work then, and I look to thee
To be my true ally all times, as now. Exit Ajax.
Odysseus, see how great the might of gods.
Couldst thou have found a man more circumspect,
Or one more prompt for all emergencies?
I know none such, and though he be my foe,
I still must pity him in his distress,
Bound, hand and foot, to fatal destiny;
And therein mind my case no less than his.
Alas! we living mortals, what are we
But phantoms all or unsubstantial shades?
Warned by these sights, Odysseus, see that thou
Utter no boastful word against the gods,
Nor swell with pride if haply might of arm
Exalt thee o’er thy fellows, or vast wealth.
A day can prostrate and a day upraise
All that is mortal; but the gods approve
Sobriety and frowardness abhor. Exeunt Athena and Odysseus. Enter Chorus.
Son of Telamon, thou whose isle,
Sea-girt Salamis, doth smile
O’er the surge, thy joys I share
When thy fortunes promise fair;
But if stroke of Zeus assail,
Or the slanderous tongues prevail
Of the Danaï, to blast
Thy repute, I cower aghast,
Like a dove with quivering eye.
For of yesternight there fly
Bitter plaints and loud-voiced blame
Crowding on us to our shame—
How thou speddest o’er the meads
Rich in troops of unbacked steeds,
And with flashing sword didst slay
All the yet unparted prey
Of the Greeks, in foray ta’en,
Spoiling all their hard earned gain.
Such the scandal, as we hear,
Odysseus breathes in every ear;
And he wins belief, for now
Thou dost seem thy guilt to avow,
And the rumour spreads and swells.
Even more than he who tells,
Every hearer takes delight
In thy woes, for envious spite.
So it falls; the noblest heart
Is a target for each dart;
Aimed at me such shafts would fail:
Envy doth the great assail.
Yet without the great the small
Ill could guard the city wall;
Leagued together small and great
Best defend the common state.
Fools this precept will not heed,
And these men are fools indeed
Who against thee rail; and we
Can do nothing without thee,
To confound their charge, O King.
Like to birds they flap the wing,
And chatter, when they ’scape thine eye;
But if hovering in the sky
The great vulture should appear,
Mute they cower in sudden fear.
Strophe
Was it the Tauric Artemis, Jove’s daughter,
(O dread
