Tecmessa: (calling) My son, thy father calls thee.-Bring him thither
Whichever of you is guiding the child's steps.
Ajax: Is the man coming? Has he heard thy call?
Tecmessa: See, he is here already with the child. (An attendant enters,
leading the child, Eurysaces.)
Ajax: Lift him up, lift him hither. He will not shrink
In terror at sight of yonder new-spilt blood,
If he be rightly mine, his father's son.
Early must he be broken to his sire's
Stern rugged code, and grow like-natured with him.
O son, mayst thou prove happier than thy father,
In all else like him, and thou'lt prove not base.
Yet even now might I envy thee herein,
That of these woes thou hast no sense at all.
For the life that is unconscious is most sweet-
Until we learn what joy and sorrow are.
But that once learnt, then midst thy father's foes
Thou must show what thou art, and of what breed.
Till then be nurtured on soft airs, cherishing
Thy tender life, and be thy mother's joy.
Studies
